Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 20: Aizen’s Head-Cutting Sword Triumph

In a life-or-death duel, the biggest mistake is losing focus.

If there is a large difference in strength between the two opponents, it may not matter if the stronger one loses focus.

But Gormak, under Aizen’s sword, dared to lose focus. That was being too overconfident.

He underestimated Aizen too much and feared Lilith too much.

He kept his guard up against the "tiger" watching him from the side but failed to realize that the opponent in front of him wasn’t a sheep—it was a ferocious wolf!

In the instant when Gormak’s heavy sword slashed downward, Aizen stepped forward and slightly sidestepped. His seemingly ordinary step was perfectly executed, allowing him to narrowly avoid the powerful and deadly strike.

That slash was indeed dangerous, filled with the brutal force to smash a man’s head.

But, unfortunately, it missed.

Aizen could even feel the sharpness of the blade grazing past his cheek.

Cold, chilling, bloodthirsty sharpness.

Gormak hadn’t expected Aizen to avoid that blow. In his eyes, Aizen’s strength shouldn’t have even reached the mid-stage of the acquired realm; at best, he had just entered the early stage.

Yet, with his early-stage strength, Aizen had dodged the attack of a mid-stage master with natural-born strength like Gormak!

Gormak had been certain that his strike would be a guaranteed hit, one that wouldn’t require a follow-up.

But now, he was forced to follow up.

Immediately, without delay—he had no choice!

However, just as he changed his strike into an upward slash, Aizen’s sword darted out like a venomous snake seizing an opportunity.

This thrust was vicious, swift, and clean!

The sharp tip of Aizen’s sword was aimed directly at Gormak’s heart.

But Aizen did not avoid or block Gormak’s upward slash.

He was betting his life!

A cold chill went down Gormak’s spine. His mind quickly made the most rational judgment.

Before his sword could cut through Aizen’s head, Aizen’s sword would have already pierced through his heart.

This wasn’t a conclusion that needed much thought. Anyone with common sense would understand it.

Because Aizen’s speed matched his own.

Because Aizen wielded a light, agile sword, while he wielded a heavy iron blade.

A sword thrusts straight forward, without deviation, a direct strike for the kill.

The blade, on the other hand, was temporarily redirected into an upward slash. With the twisting of the wrist, there was a delay of a fraction of a second. And when both strike at the same speed, a thrust will always be faster than a slash.

"Danger! Gormak is in danger!"

"What a calm man, what a cold and deadly sword!"

The surrounding black-clad disciples could all see what was happening, and they couldn’t help but take a deep breath, feeling a chill down their spines.

Lilith’s bright eyes gleamed even more, and the three willow leaf darts she had been holding slightly loosened in her grip.

Gormak cherished his life, as do most people.

Even the coldest, most fearless assassin still values their life.

The sword didn’t continue to slash upward.

Making the wrong choice in such a situation would only be done by someone utterly hopelessly foolish. Gormak wasn’t the type to stubbornly hold on to a wrong decision when his life was on the line.

He took a step back, and his iron sword moved to block his chest.

This was a technique known as the Iron Chain Across the River, but it wasn’t exactly that. It was more of a poorly executed Horizontal Blade stance.

Because he was afraid, the series of moves he made were rushed and clumsy.

Aizen also changed his move. His sword was light and agile, and there was no need to clash head-on with Gormak.

Gormak’s adaptability was impressive. Aizen’s straight thrust, which seemed like a guaranteed hit, was quickly countered. Had it been Farel, he would have died again under this strike.

But Gormak wasn’t Farel. Though he seemed like a brute, he was actually cautious and focused.

His quick reflexes and survival instinct saved him for the time being.

But his luck wouldn’t last forever.

As Aizen shifted his sword away from Gormak’s block, he seized the opportunity when Gormak’s moves had grown sluggish, executing the killing move from the Head-Cutting Sword Technique—Neck Coil Style.

His sword changed direction, and in a flash of silver light, it whipped around with a swift, deadly arc.

This sword strike was incredibly fast. The sword no longer seemed like a sword; it resembled a ruthless, swift whip!

A snake!

A venomous snake!

It went straight for the throat.

Too fast, too fast.

So fast that all the onlookers could see was a flash of silver light. It was as if sunlight had blinded their eyes.

Some instinctively blinked, tears welling up from the sharp brightness of the sword’s gleam.

When they opened their eyes again.

The fight was over.

"Clang!"

The sound of the iron blade falling to the ground.

It symbolized the death of a swordsman.

Of course, this was a somewhat flattering way to describe Gormak; in reality, he wasn’t worthy of the title.

A thin, thread-like wound slowly appeared on Gormak’s neck.

His large eyes bulged, still filled with disbelief and unwillingness.

Blood. Crimson, still warm, slowly seeped out of that thin line...

It was a wound, slowly widening.

Until, finally, a heavy object fell to the ground. Blood sprayed out like a fountain, forming a mist, blurring the scene.

Aizen, however, had already stepped to the side, his expression calm, his eyelids half-closed. He didn’t bother to look at the gory scene, for he could already imagine it.

With a light flick of his sword, a trail of blood droplets splattered onto the ground, forming a graceful arc—a perfect ending.

Thud.

Even without a head, Gormak’s large body still seemed tall, but it collapsed with a heavy thud.

No one screamed or cheered, nor did anyone rush forward to shower Aizen with compliments.

All the black-clad disciples, with a mixture of fear and unease in their eyes, quietly dispersed.

This was how the disciples of the Demonic Sect operated. Bloodshed and death had become routine for them.

This was how the disciples of the Demonic Sect acted—vicious, opportunistic, and ruthless, they avoided confrontation when they sensed danger.

Just moments ago, those who had mocked Aizen were nowhere to be found.

The moment Gormak’s sword fell, those who had barked insults from the shadows had tucked their tails and scurried away like stray dogs.

"Very good, very impressive. What was that sword technique you just used? It didn’t seem like a basic technique."

Lilith skipped over, light and playful, yet exuding coldness and cruelty.

She smiled brightly, genuinely pleased with Aizen’s strength, while the headless body of Gormak on the ground had already become a part of the past for her.

That was Lilith—an angelic face with a devilish heart.

But to Aizen, perhaps she was a real angel.

Lilith understood this well, which was why she asked what most people wouldn’t dare to ask.

Aizen bent down and picked up the iron sword from the ground. The blood on the blade’s surface emitted a pungent, metallic smell, which made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but he forced himself to adapt to it.

He glanced at Gormak’s lifeless head, then at the sword on his waist, and turned to Lilith with a single sentence.

"Head-Cutting Sword Technique."

It was an apt name, a sword technique unlike any other in its brutality!

Among the hundred thousand black-clothed disciples of Heavenly Demon Clan, Gormak, the Mighty Body, was ranked in the top fifty overall and top ten in the West Courtyard. Now, he was dead. This news swept through Demon Mountain City like a violent storm.

Where there are Sorcery artists, there are disputes. Where there are disputes, there are deaths. When someone dies, it inevitably involves another group of people—those who live freely in the Magus world, settling scores and grudges.

Aizen had anticipated this. Or rather, before he even committed the murder, he had already considered the consequences he would face. He never liked to think optimistically; he preferred to consider the worst-case scenarios. Staying vigilant in times of peace was a quality he had possessed even before arriving in this Magus world.

This trait served him well here. It allowed a bad man to thrive and cause trouble for years to come.

...

A jug of wine was held by a beautiful, slender hand. It was hard to imagine how many lives that hand had taken. The jug was lifted by that exquisite hand, brought to a pair of striking red lips, and sipped lightly. The cool wine slid down the beauty’s throat.

A beauty like wine, and wine like a beauty.

She sipped her wine while listening to a black-clothed disciple report, from five zhang away, about the cause of Gormak’s death. When she heard that a sword, resembling a silver whip and a venomous viper, had slashed Gormak’s neck at the speed of a shooting star, she took another sip.

With that, the wine in the jug was gone. She stood up, her tall and shapely figure drawing the greedy gaze of any man. Her red dress unfolded on the ground like a blooming flower. Barefoot, her delicate feet were as flawless as white jade. She walked gracefully past the black-clothed disciple, who dared not lift his head.

The disciple, his head bowed, could smell the intoxicating fragrance from her. His head trembled slightly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of three parts infatuation and seven parts fear. He knew that when this woman showed interest in someone, that person’s days were numbered—especially if they were a man!

...

The former Body Courtyard, the estate once belonging to Gormak, had a new owner now.

The new owner was a man who didn’t care for romance. The first thing he did upon entering was kill a half-naked woman who threw herself into his embrace.

Yes, he killed her.

Aizen killed her.

He was cold and ruthless, with a nature as bloodthirsty as a warlord. For most men, beautiful women are a fatal temptation; for a hero, it’s hard to resist, but a warlord might not care at all.

Besides, this half-naked woman wasn’t beautiful—at least, not compared to Lilith Blackthorn.

What’s more, this woman had taken something she shouldn’t have: a sorcery arts manual.

It was an ordinary manual, but it was Aizen’s trophy from killing Gormak, the only valuable thing the decapitated fool had left behind.

Basic Blade Technique.

A woman, a gray-clad servant, dared to hide such a precious manual from Aizen after he had killed Gormak. After doing something so brainless, she no longer deserved to live. Aizen was not a man who gave mercy randomly, just as he wouldn’t draw his sword for no reason.

He needed a reason to kill.

He had killed Steward Edric because Steward Edric wanted to kill him; he killed Farel because Farel wanted to kill him; he killed four black-clothed disciples because they tried to kill him; and he killed Gormak for the same reason.

But this woman had not tried to kill him. Still, he struck her down with a sword. She had disrespected him by hiding his trophy, and that was reason enough. If she could survive one sword strike, he would not attack again.

But, unfortunately... life rarely grants second chances.

Aizen considered himself reasonable, much like his name, Aizen, which stood for honesty.

He dragged Gormak’s corpse, along with the woman’s body, outside the courtyard. It wouldn’t be long before some servants came to deal with the bodies. Cleaning up corpses was an unpleasant job, not because of any superstitions about death, but because it was dangerous.

Dead people have enemies and friends. When those people see the bodies, they might lose control.

Enemies, unable to exact their revenge, would kill the corpse-handlers out of frustration. Friends, overwhelmed by anger, might randomly slaughter a scapegoat in their fury.

Aizen felt a bit lucky that Steward Edric hadn’t sent him to do this kind of corpse-cleaning work back then. Steward Edric had treated him quite well, surprisingly well.

Aizen shut himself in the courtyard’s basement. It was damp, stuffy, and reeked of decay, but it was hidden and secure.

Inside, he found some of Gormak’s hidden wealth: three silver ingots, each worth about 100 taels, and four small gold leaves, each equivalent to 100 taels of silver. However, these weren’t what Aizen cared about. What caught his attention was inside a large wooden chest reinforced with copper nails.

It was a fine chainmail vest made of refined gold. It was lightweight and exquisitely crafted, weighing only about three jin. Wearing it wouldn’t hinder his movements.

The most impressive thing, however, was when he tested it. Aizen thrust his refined iron sword at the vest without channeling any internal energy, and the sword couldn’t leave a noticeable mark.

The vest’s defense was outstanding.

Aizen studied the chainmail carefully, and as he focused, a flash of information appeared in his mind, projected as if from his retina:

"Refined Gold Chainmail (Inner Armor): Grade Low-tier armor. Evaluation: Experts generally disdain wearing such flashy inner armor."

The system had analyzed the item and displayed specific information. Surprised, Aizen concentrated again, this time on his refined iron sword, and another stream of information flowed into his mind:

"Ordinary Refined Iron Sword (Long Sword): Grade low-tier weapon. Evaluation: Good swords are hard to come by; people without money typically use this kind of sword."

Aizen felt slightly annoyed. What did it mean by "without money"? He now had over a thousand taels of silver, including Gormak’s wealth, and yet the system still mocked him. It seemed like it was time to get a better sword—at least a Grade high-tier one.

After pondering for a moment, Aizen felt a bit dizzy and fatigued. He realized that using the system to analyze items probably consumed his mental energy. He would have to be more careful about using this ability in the future.

He put on the chainmail under his robe. It fit perfectly, which wasn’t surprising since Gormak had been too large to wear it comfortably. With over a thousand activity points left unspent, Aizen decided to take a gamble and try his luck.