Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 83: Death is a Cruel Thing

When it came to blade techniques, whether the Basic Blade Technique or the Demonic Blade Slash, Aizen was still at the beginner’s stage.

To master the blade, real combat was the best method. Fighting allowed one to explore, learn from mistakes, and self-correct through experience.

Simply practicing according to someone’s instructions might not yield the same results.

The blade is inherently a weapon of violence.

To wield such a weapon effectively, one must learn its principles through bloodshed and combat. The theories written on paper or spoken aloud pale in comparison to the lessons gained in actual battle.

Since Aizen came here to practice his blade skills, he naturally wouldn’t use the Cold Moon Treasure Blade.

Considering the strength of the prisoners in this underground prison—some of whom were competent fighters but were all unarmed or restrained with chains—the Cold Moon Treasure Blade would be overkill.

This was the perfect opportunity to use the iron-wood blade Aizen had purchased in the first-floor hall of the Treasure Pavilion.

The iron-wood blade, while lighter than an ordinary iron sword and lacking sharpness, was ideal for training due to its durable construction.

When Aizen entered the prison, all the noise gradually died down.

Though some prisoners couldn’t see him clearly, they could feel the oppressive atmosphere—a faint but pervasive killing intent filled the air.

While Aizen wasn’t here specifically to kill, practicing blade techniques without a killing intent would never yield true mastery.

If he didn’t genuinely aim to strike down these prisoners, they wouldn’t fight him with everything they had.

Aizen needed them to fight as if their lives depended on it.

None of these prisoners were at the peak of the magus body refining stage, so even if they fought with all their might, Aizen could still control the situation.

Holding the iron-wood blade, Aizen walked steadily forward, his steps as firm as an ancient tree rooting itself in the ground.

He stopped in front of the first cell.

Inside, a burly man with dark skin and disheveled hair glared at Aizen with a mixture of vigilance and hostility. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Aizen removed a set of keys from his waist and, under the man’s increasingly wary gaze, unlocked the cell door and stepped inside without hesitation.

"Come now. Kill me, and you can leave," Aizen said with a faint smile. His expression was warm, but the cold light in his eyes betrayed his words.

He lunged first, gripping the blade steadily as it thrust forward. The sound of the blade cutting through the air, however, was faint and unclear.

The thrust lacked precision—his internal force failed to flow smoothly between his hand and the blade’s hilt. This caused the energy traveling through the blade to weaken, muting the sound of the strike.

"Clang!"

As expected, the prisoner easily blocked the blade with the chain in his hand. Seizing the opportunity, the man attempted to entangle the blade with the chain, but Aizen swiftly adjusted his footwork and slashed horizontally.

"Is that all you’ve got? Courting death!" the dark-skinned man sneered.

Despite being shackled at both his hands and feet, the man remained agile, swinging his bowl-sized fists in powerful, wide arcs.

Judging by his moves, he seemed to have mastered the Basic Fist Technique to a high degree. His strikes, accompanied by faint gusts of wind, carried enough force to sting slightly on impact. Clearly, he had practiced some level of internal energy, albeit not particularly strong—equivalent to a standard Heavenly Demon Sect black-clad disciple.

"Bang! Bang!"

The sharp sounds of clashing echoed through the prison, mixed with angry shouts and the gusts of exchanged blows.

The other prisoners in nearby cells began to discern the situation. It seemed the visitor with killing intent wasn’t particularly strong—or perhaps he was merely using them for practice.

The fight lasted for about ten breaths of time before a muffled grunt echoed. The prisoner, despite his formidable skills, was ultimately no match. Aizen broke through his defense and struck him at the waist with a slash.

Even though the iron-wood blade lacked sharpness, it still had a faint edge. Without using much internal energy during the fight, Aizen’s strike still managed to slice through the man’s skin and muscle.

The burly man stumbled back, clutching his waist as blood oozed from the wound. His once-defiant gaze faltered, replaced with pain and desperation.

For Aizen, this was just the beginning. This prisoner, along with the others, would serve as whetstones for sharpening his blade skills.

True mastery of the blade could only be achieved through blood and battle.

With one successful strike, Aizen swiftly launched a follow-up attack. His blade slashed upward toward the wrist, then transitioned seamlessly into a diagonal cut. The timing of his rapid chain of attacks was impeccable.

The dark-skinned man roared in defiance, unwilling to yield and ready to fight to the death. Yet, despite his ferocity, he sustained multiple injuries.

Aizen remained unfazed, a cold smile playing on his lips. He finally unleashed a move from the Demonic Blade Slash—"Wind Meets Moon".

The blade flashed, forming a crescent arc of light, its speed like a gale.

"Squelch!"

The blade sank three inches deep into flesh, nearly severing the man’s neck. Blood spurted like a fountain.

The battle lasted nearly a minute.

Aizen used only a fraction of his internal energy, relying solely on his footwork and blade technique without employing any other Sorcery arts skills.

The results were evident: his Demonic Blade Slash proficiency increased by 3%, while his Basic Blade Technique proficiency rose by 8%.

Aizen understood that these gains came because his blade techniques were still at a beginner’s level. As someone only at the Initial Practice stage, his proficiency naturally increased rapidly.

However, if he advanced to the next level—"Initial Understanding" (30% proficiency)—training against such ordinary opponents would no longer yield significant gains.

Of course, the proficiency metrics provided by the system were merely a numerical representation. They reflected Aizen’s understanding and absorption of the blade techniques he used in battle.

If his innate talent had been extraordinary—if he were a prodigy destined for the way of the blade—it was possible that a single battle might have triggered a breakthrough or even a moment of enlightenment, complete with divine omens. Such an event might propel his blade skills directly to the third stage.

Ultimately, proficiency wasn’t rigidly fixed by the system. It was a measure of Aizen’s comprehension and the lessons he gained from combat.

After killing the dark-skinned man, Aizen paused briefly to regulate his breathing before heading to the cell across from him.

The prisoner inside had witnessed the entire scene, fully aware that Aizen was using these battles to hone his blade skills. He also understood that his only chance of survival lay in killing Aizen.

As Aizen approached and opened the cell door, the prisoner let out a fierce roar and charged forward, attempting to strike first and escape.

Another intense battle ensued.

Training could be monotonous.

A process like this—repeatedly engaging in combat and killing—was even more tedious.

Aizen was practicing a killing blade. Every strike of the blade was meant to kill, leaving no survivors, cutting down all opposition.

The Demonic Blade Slash offered numerous intricate techniques, allowing practitioners to create their own combinations and killing moves.

What Aizen sought was the most direct and lethal approach—a blade meant purely for killing.

He trained his blade by killing, honing its murderous aura. Even before the blade struck, its killing intent alone was enough to unsettle and terrify opponents.

"Night rains across eight directions, the lone city battles. At dawn, the sound of the blade echoes against the clash of sword Aura."

In the prison, the glint of the blade reflected the growing intensity of the killing intent.

Some prisoners began to scream and roar uncontrollably, unable to suppress their fear as they faced the looming specter of death.

At the iron gate outside the prison, two members of the Heaven and Earth society stood guard. Their faces had turned pale.

When ordinary people slaughter pigs, the animals’ agonizing squeals are enough to unnerve onlookers.

But this was no pig slaughter—this was human carnage.

It was a massacre.

When the iron gate creaked open, the two burly guards’ legs trembled. Forcing themselves to remain upright, they plastered fawning smiles on their faces, bowing respectfully to Aizen.

The smell of blood wafted from Aizen’s body, and their eyes couldn’t help but dart to the blood and flesh clinging to his boots. They felt a tightness in their chests, their stomachs churning as if they might vomit.

"Do you think this is cruel?" Aizen asked, his voice as cold as the wind in the depths of winter.

"N-no, no... They were all deserving of death, sir. If you hadn’t killed them, we would have done it for you. Even if it were our own families, if you ordered it, they should all die," the two guards stammered, shaking their heads frantically like rattles, their faces filled with ingratiating smiles.

"Hmm."

Aizen nodded faintly, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

With a flick of his wrist, the cold gleam of his blade flashed. Two sharp screams echoed briefly before falling silent.

"You also deserve to die. Because death itself is a cruel thing."

Two more bodies fell to the ground.

Carrying the Cold Moon Treasure Blade, Aizen departed.