Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 137 - 138: Testing Skills

The courtyard felt like stepping into a serene valley. The air was fresh, with a gentle night breeze that was neither cold nor hot, carrying a faint, pleasant fragrance.

Aizen surveyed his surroundings and noticed the courtyard was planted with blooming roses and an old locust tree, beneath which stood a stone table and a few stone stools. There were also potted plants carefully arranged in the corners, forming a layout that seemed to carry some intricate design, likely another Spiritual configuration.

However, Aizen couldn’t quite decipher its deeper meaning.

All he felt was that stepping into this courtyard was like being transported to another Stage. The sensation was curious, akin to entering a sauna, where the steamy, oppressive atmosphere starkly contrasts with the outside world.

Of course, this courtyard wasn’t like a sauna in terms of heat. Instead, subtle Spiritual changes had altered the magnetic fields, creating an unusual ambiance.

"Isn’t it a joy to have friends visit from afar? Brother Aizen, do come in!"

From the hall inside the courtyard came a hearty, slightly raspy voice.

The escort bowed and retreated, leaving Aizen to casually stroll into the reception hall.

Inside, a banquet had already been prepared. Three people were seated at the table, with a few others standing to the side. The table was laden with delicacies, including fine wine, a simmering hotpot of lamb emitting an enticing aroma mixed with medicinal herbs.

As Aizen stepped in, all eyes immediately focused on him.

Some gazes were calm, while others were as sharp as blades, exuding a chilling and intimidating presence.

With a slight sense of unease from his heightened awareness, Aizen realized that among the eight people present, three gave him an undeniable feeling of danger—a testament to their extraordinary strength.

"Brother Aizen, I’ve long heard of your reputation, but fate hadn’t allowed us to meet until today. Indeed, you are as remarkable as the rumors say. Let us get acquainted—Silas of the Western Bureau."

A man on the left side of the table stood up. He had white hair and red lips, thick brows over almond-shaped eyes, and skin so pale it could rival that of a woman.

His voice was sharp, yet he bore an Adam’s apple, wore a tall crown, and a black cape over a robe embroidered with a wolf head. Smiling, he walked toward Aizen and extended his hand.

This, naturally, wasn’t a simple handshake.

In the martial world, such gestures were known as "testing hands," meant to gauge an opponent’s skills.

Aizen remained composed, extending his hand with no visible hesitation.

He had, of course, heard of Silas’s reputation. Though not listed among the top Sorcery artists, Aizen knew better than to underestimate him. To become a commander of the Western Bureau and hold authority in Great Plain City, Silas couldn’t possibly be an ordinary figure.

Aizen’s hand reached out in an ordinary manner, except his index finger slightly lifted while the other four fingers hung downward, mimicking the tip of a spear aiming directly at Silas’s tiger’s mouth. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

If their hands truly met, Aizen’s fingers would instantly press against Silas’s weak point, rendering his palm powerless.

Silas’s red lips curled into a faint smile. His thumb pressed down protectively, like a hen guarding its chicks, covering the tiger’s mouth and neutralizing Aizen’s strike.

Before their hands even touched, the atmosphere suddenly shifted, as if a lightning-fast strike had occurred.

Aizen’s hand transformed mid-motion, mimicking "two dragons seizing a pearl," his fingers bending and shooting straight toward Silas’s eyes.

This move was both vicious and swift. If executed against an ordinary person, the sheer force of his fingers would make them feel as if needles were piercing their eyes, causing involuntary tears and rendering them unable to see clearly.

Silas’s eyes turned razor-sharp, his focus and energy converging entirely on resisting the attack.

Not only was he defending against physical harm, but he was also countering the psychological impact of the strike.

Ordinary people faced with imminent danger would instinctively close their eyes to shield themselves.

However, a true expert with exceptional composure would never flinch.

Closing one’s eyes in such a moment could determine life and death.

Silas’s eyes narrowed like a predator, his single hand forming a knife, slashing downwards sharply.

The motion began from his lower abdomen and extended to his front, chopping down like an axe, as if he were chopping wood.

Yet it wasn’t straightforward. He aimed to use the palm’s intent like a blade, splitting Aizen’s incoming two fingers.

Their clash occurred in the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t just a simple handshake; it turned into a full-fledged fight.

Had they not held back, the internal force would have turned the scene into a battlefield, and the banquet hall could have been destroyed.

Now, with Aizen’s two fingers about to be struck by Silas’s palm-blade.

Suddenly, Aizen’s fingers flickered like a divine dragon, vanishing momentarily, darting in all directions—left, right, up, down—leaving a residual shadow that was difficult to pinpoint.

This was a technique from the Three Divided Fingers, merged with the elusive, undetermined essence of the Breaking Cloud Palm technique.

Applying it now, Aizen swiftly escaped the predicament and counterattacked.

His fingers darted like swords, targeting key points such as the Silas’s labor palace and lesser palace.

The air split with a sharp sound as the wind from his fingers pierced through. Silas’s expression changed slightly, feeling a tingling sensation on both sides even before Aizen’s fingers could touch him.

With a soft grunt, Silas’s eyes gleamed. His palm, appearing weak and boneless, suddenly trembled and rushed toward Aizen’s striking finger, as if he was dealing with a stick. The move was akin to a snake striking, indicating he had a follow-up lethal move.

Aizen sneered coldly and changed his technique, using the Tear Claw—a ferocious clawing motion—mimicking an eagle swooping down from the sky, aimed at grabbing the snake-like coil.

This claw movement released an oppressive aura, as if emanating a pungent, dark, and sinister killing intent.

Silas quickly changed his stance. His once soft palm now transformed into a bear’s paw, launching a direct attack.

"Pah!"

The air rippled like water. The clash disappeared in an instant.

Their hands locked briefly but soon parted.

The movement was so fast, it seemed evenly matched.

But the two sitting at the table clearly saw what had just transpired.

After Aizen’s fierce clawing move, he quickly clasped Silas’s bear-like palm, his thumb pressing against Silas’s tiger’s mouth, and his sharp fingernails acted like blades, preventing Silas from exerting force.

This simple "testing hands" was a sign that Aizen held the upper hand.

"Haha, Brother Aizen, your reputation is well-deserved. Silas yields to you,"

Silas’s white, slender face once again bore a smile, his voice high and thin. A red mark now appeared on his tiger’s mouth.

If both had used their internal strength in this clash, the result would have been far more severe than just a red mark.

"Haha, young heroes rise early. Brother Aizen, your skills are truly remarkable. No wonder you severed Nathan’s broken military mace,"

The short, plump elder at the main seat laughed and raised his hand. His head was bald and shiny, and his face was ruddy. Despite his relaxed demeanor, he was the city lord of Great Plain -Darwin.

Aizen calmly took his seat, directly across from him sat a man in the Eastern Bureau’s hawk uniform—bronzed skin, expression rigid as wood, and eyes as sharp as swords.

Sitting across from this person, Aizen had to constantly endure the pressure emanating from his piercing gaze.

"This is Victor of the Eastern Bureau. Aizen, known as Steel Leg of the Magus world."

Darwin chuckled, and a serving girl came over to pour wine for Aizen.