Chapter 137

Jack raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. The condition he'd laid out was harsh—he knew that.

After all, Seraphina was being groomed as the future head of the Igaru school.

She represented their entire legacy.

Now, he was asking her to serve under him, to follow his orders. To the Igaru school, this could easily be seen as an insult.

Yet Mira had agreed.

"However."

Mira's tone shifted.

Jack's brow lifted slightly. He'd known it wouldn't be that simple.

"Before that, I have one condition." Mira fixed her gaze on Jack.

"I've heard that Mr. Carter is a master of the Kogara school's techniques. As it happens, I have a training hall here. Would you be willing to give me a demonstration?"

Jack's eyebrow quirked upward.

"You've asked. I'll oblige."

Soon enough, the two stood in a spacious training hall.

"Please!"

Each held a wooden sword in hand.

Mira gave Jack a slight bow, then suddenly charged at him.

Her figure became a razor-sharp blur, her footsteps leaving dull scraping sounds against the wooden floor.

The practice sword in her hand moved like a viper striking from its den, cutting through the air with a shrill whistle as it aimed straight for Jack's throat.

There was no testing the waters, no hesitation. She poured her full weight and killing intent into that wooden blade, trying to crush her opponent the moment they clashed.

Facing this thunderous assault, Jack merely lowered his eyelids slightly.

He didn't retreat. He didn't raise any defensive stance.

His gray-blue eyes reflected the approaching sword, calm as still water.

Just as the wooden blade closed to within an inch of him, Jack moved.

His grip shifted on the heavy oak sword, his wrist rotating at an angle that defied common sense.

There was no deafening clash of metal, no shower of sparks from violent impact.

Jack's wooden sword slipped precisely into the one fatal gap in Mira's strike. The blade met hers, then glided along the trajectory of her swing, pressing downward with impossibly smooth control.

Mira felt an irresistible force surge through the hilt and into her arms. Her carefully honed strike was instantly disrupted.

She had no choice but to retreat.

After pulling back several steps to create distance, Mira stared at Jack with cold intensity.

Her hand trembled around the wooden sword, her palm tingling and numb.

Jack's movement had looked effortless, but the sheer force behind it had nearly knocked the sword from her grip.

And that wasn't all.

Within the Igaru school, Mira was considered exceptional.

Her swordsmanship was the strongest in the entire school—second only to her brother.

Mira took a deep breath, forcing down the churning qi in her chest.

She adjusted her stance slightly, feet positioned front and back, center of gravity lowered, settling into a more rigorous opening form.

As a top-tier swordsman, she understood better than anyone what that single exchange had meant.

It wasn't just absolute dominance in strength—it was mastery of leverage and human anatomy pushed to its limits.

He hadn't used brute force to clash head-on. Instead, through an impossible angle of leverage, he'd neutralized all the momentum from her swing and turned it back against her own arms.

That precision in timing was genuinely terrifying.

"Again."

Mira spat out the word coldly. The contempt that had been in her eyes before was completely gone, replaced by total wariness and gravity.

The instant the word left her lips, she stepped forward once more.

This time, her footwork wasn't as sweeping and aggressive as before. It became tight and compact, like a cat prowling through darkness.

The wooden sword in her hand no longer rose high—it stayed level with her chest, the tip pointed steadily at Jack's face.

This was the Igaru school's core close-combat thrust technique—stripping away all flashy slashes, seeking only to pierce through an enemy's defense in the narrowest space at the fastest speed.

Jack still stood quietly in place, the oak sword hanging casually at his side. He watched Mira close in like a phantom, a flicker of approval crossing his eyes.

"Good adjustment," he murmured.

Mira didn't respond. Her entire focus locked onto Jack's shoulders.

The moment his shoulder muscles showed even the slightest twitch, she'd be able to predict the trajectory of his attack.

The distance between them closed to the absolute limit in an instant.

Mira's wooden sword shot forward like black lightning, stabbing toward the area just below Jack's collarbone from an impossibly tricky angle.

The strike was silent, yet so fast that even the air couldn't cry out in time.

But just as her blade was about to touch Jack's clothing, the oak sword that had been hanging at his side was somehow already positioned horizontally across his chest.

Crack!

A dull impact echoed through the hall.

Jack's wooden sword intercepted Mira's thrust with flawless precision.

This time, he didn't try to deflect the force. He met her blade head-on.

Mira felt as though her sword had stabbed into an impenetrable block of steel. No matter how much strength she poured into it, she couldn't push forward even a fraction of an inch.

And from Jack's oak sword came a steady, domineering undercurrent of force, flowing endlessly through the blade and into her body.

"Your sword relies too much on instinct," Jack's voice sounded beside her ear, utterly calm and without a ripple. "But instinct has its limits."

Before the words even finished, Jack's wrist twisted sharply.

The oak sword slid down along Mira's wooden blade, then slammed brutally against her sword-holding wrist.

Crack.

The sound of bone fracturing echoed through the training hall.

Mira let out a muffled grunt. The wooden sword flew from her hand, crashing heavily against the far wall.

The force sent her stumbling backward until her back slammed into one of the hall's wooden pillars, barely managing to steady herself.

She clutched her throbbing wrist, gasping for air, fine beads of sweat covering her forehead.

Jack slowly lowered his sword, letting the perfectly intact oak blade hang at his side once more.

He looked at Mira, leaning against the pillar with pain and frustration written across her face. There wasn't a trace of pity in his eyes.

"You lost," he said flatly. "The Igaru school's swordsmanship is certainly refined. But in the face of absolute strength and skill, all that refinement is just useless flourish."

Mira gritted her teeth, glaring at Jack.

She knew he was right.

In those two exchanges, she hadn't even touched the hem of his clothes before being completely crushed.

This gap couldn't be closed through training alone.

She took a deep breath, enduring the sharp pain, and bowed deeply to Jack.

"I lost." Her voice was hoarse and low. "Mr. Carter, your swordsmanship—I'm convinced."

Jack gave a slight nod, then casually tossed the oak sword onto a nearby weapon rack.