Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 97: A Ruthless Strike

Exiting the treasury, the tranquil lakeside under the night sky came into view once more. A large boat was already docked beside the lakeside pavilion, waiting.

This time, Morning star Magus did not come; instead, an elderly steward wearing a black-and-red embroidered robe and a felt hat was tasked with welcoming the group.

Inside the boat’s cabin, four or five robust men operated the oars. The oars extended through slots in the boat’s hull, and when in motion, the group would work in unison to row.

As usual, the young officials were invited to board first. Aizen and Miles chose to avoid any conflict with them for now.

After all, Morning Star magus was also a government official. If a dispute arose, he would undoubtedly side with them. Even though this northeastern region was the stronghold of the Heavenly Demon Clan, Morning Star Magus, the nominal city lord of Treisenberg city, still wielded the ultimate authority in the city.

Sometimes, however, people are peculiar beings.

Even when a villain wants to act humbly for once, someone always comes looking for trouble.

When the tree wishes for calm, the wind refuses to relent. Living in the world of Sorcery arts, one often has no choice.

As Aizen leaped onto the deck, three individuals blocked his way in an instant.

While he was still mid-air, the three had already occupied the spot where he was about to land, essentially forcing him into an embarrassing situation, making it likely for him to fall into the water.

The other dozen or so people sneered, some mockingly, others disdainfully.

Even Miles, standing at the edge of the lakeside pavilion, was momentarily stunned before showing a schadenfreude smile.

"You shameless wretch, get lost!"

Seeing that Aizen didn’t retreat but instead continued his leap forward, one of the three, a handsome young man wearing a tall crown, suddenly struck out.

Aizen’s eyes turned icy cold, a cruel and chilling smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

This was the same person who had earlier warned him and Miles in the treasury.

Now making a move, the young man showed no mercy. A flash of his sword was accompanied by a sharp, chilling whistle that pierced the air.

The tall-crowned young man smirked mockingly. He hadn’t intended to let Aizen off easily. His aim was to pierce a hole in Aizen’s body.

Born into the ranks of officials, he was not only arrogant but accustomed to being domineering. Even though he knew Aizen was an outer disciple of the Heavenly Demon Clan, he still looked down on him.

However, this time, he picked the wrong opponent.

Aside from Miles, everyone present underestimated Aizen.

While Miles found the situation amusing, he did not believe the tall-crowned youth could injure Aizen with one strike.

As expected.

The moment the sword light erupted, a loud clang of colliding steel filled the air.

Sparks flew.

Everyone felt as if a second moon had appeared before them.

This moon was unlike the one in the sky.

The moon above was not particularly bright but still carried no chill.

This sudden second moon, however, was chilling to the bone.

Because it wasn’t a moon—it was the light of a blade, bursting forth with dazzling, icy brilliance.

The cold blade light flashed and vanished in an instant, its arc resembling the moon’s reflection on water.

A swift, direct, and domineering strike.

This strike, seen by all, caused their eyes to sting and their necks to feel as if they had been slashed open, leaving a chilling sensation.

With just one strike, the sword broke amidst a screeching wail, almost like a cry of despair.

A scream rang out simultaneously with the shattering of the sword.

Two fragments of a broken sword clattered onto the deck, followed by a sudden splash of blood.

Blood splattered everywhere, staining the deck, and a dark figure tumbled into the water.

"Splash!"

Water sprayed into the air.

The mix of blood in the water under the moonlight made it seem as though even the moonlight was tinged with red.

The chilling scream, like the howl of a wounded beast, pierced the night, filling it with an eerie sense of horror.

With just one strike, the sword was broken, and the young man’s arm lost almost half a pound of flesh.

This strike was truly ruthless and decisive!

The tall-crowned youth let out a heart-wrenching scream, clutching the massive, nearly bone-deep wound on his arm as he writhed in agony on the ground.

Nearly an entire chunk of muscle from his arm had been sliced off in a single stroke. The dark mass that had just fallen into the water was that very piece of flesh, destined to become a midnight feast for some lucky fish lurking in the depths.

Breaking a long sword with a single strike could be achieved by anyone present, provided they had a good blade, quick reflexes, and a precise application of strength.

But to simultaneously sever a sword and carve out such a substantial piece of flesh from the opponent—this was no ordinary feat.

It was easily ten times harder than directly cutting off an arm.

The blood pooling on the deck appeared almost black under the dim moonlight.

The scene was utterly terrifying, shocking to behold.

Those who had previously sneered with disdain now had their expressions frozen stiff, replaced by disbelief.

Aizen had landed steadily on the deck, the night breeze lifting the hem of his robe and his hair.

"How dare you!"

The steward from the city lord’s mansion roared, his voice thunderous and deafening.

His sharp eyes locked onto Aizen, their gaze as piercing as lightning, making the air feel several degrees colder.

Yet Aizen remained unfazed.

In his hand, he still gripped the Cold Moon Blade as if holding a fragment of moonlight—a killing moonlight, a killing blade.

His eyes were as cold and sharp as the blade, making it impossible to meet his gaze.

When he struck, he rarely left survivors.

Exceptions were few.

But this time, he left one alive, a deliberate choice to leave himself and others a way out.

The two individuals who had been standing with the tall-crowned youth moments ago turned pale as if they had seen a ghost, retreating in fear.

"...You...you’re ruthless!"

Their trembling fingers pointed at Aizen, backing away while their wide eyes remained fixated on their companion writhing in pain on the ground. The increasing pool of blood forced them to swallow hard, their hearts pounding wildly.

What kind of madman was this?

To strike with such brutality—did he even know what he was doing?

Was he planning to challenge all of them by himself?

"You impudent fool! Do you realize what you’ve done?"

The steward in the embroidered robe sternly reprimanded, striding toward Aizen. His footsteps on the deck sounded like iron hammers pounding drums as he placed himself between Aizen and the group of officials’ heirs.

His timing was impeccable. Just as the others snapped out of their shock and were about to attack Aizen in unison, he blocked their path, becoming the first to demand accountability from Aizen.

The group of officials’ offspring momentarily hesitated, their aggression faltering.

But one of them quickly erupted in rage, pointing at Aizen with a face full of killing intent.

"You demon Clan scum! Face me in battle! I, Leo Rivers, swear to cut you down today!"

"Come over here and die! You’re so ruthless? I, Toni Garp, will cripple your limbs and crush you completely!"

The woman surnamed Feng, who had always regarded Aizen with disdain, now looked at him with even greater loathing.

Her gaze was filled not only with disgust but also with a trace of icy killing intent.

Even that Man , who had previously dismissed Aizen, could no longer remain indifferent.

Although he wasn’t particularly close to the injured man and had no real obligation to fight a seemingly skilled Heavenly Demon Clan disciple, the current circumstances left him no choice.

After all, he, too, was a government official.

How could an official of the court allow himself to be overshadowed by a commoner—or worse, a bandit?