Chapter 157: The Sword Saint and the Sword Grandmaster

However, the swordsman's stability clearly exceeded Shelley's expectations. With a slight sway of his body, Foster firmly regained his footing on the ice.

Honey immediately fired a bolt of light. Foster let out a soft huff, exerting a subtle force through the soles of his feet that shattered the ice into powder. Though delayed by a fraction of a second in his startup, he still managed to dodge out of the way before the light bolt struck, lunging toward Honey instead.

Honey lacked the capability for high-speed movement.

Due to the temperature, Honey had not brought the large cat along this time. Otherwise, this battle would have been much easier.

"My, my, it seems I truly cannot be away. Wander off for even a moment, and you all manage to stir up massive trouble." As these words were spoken, a figure materialized directly in front of Foster, meeting sword with sword and successfully parrying his onslaught.

Venigo.

"Yo, swordsman, there is no one named Foster in Iron-Fist Castle, so you must not be a member of the royal family, right?" Venigo greeted him in a friendly tone.

Foster remained silent, letting his blade do the talking.

Swift Blade: Frenzied Hummingbird!

"Where have I seen this style of swordsmanship before?" Venigo tilted his head in thought while simultaneously swinging his sword, unleashing a cascade of starlight-like sword glints to counter Foster.

After employing the "Action Principle" trait, Venigo's movements were nearly three times faster than usual, allowing him to proudly claim mastery over rapid swordsmanship.

Fast sword against fast sword, Venigo was slightly inferior to Foster, but as long as he focused purely on defense, it posed no problem at all.

He parried and retreated in tandem, wearing down his opponent's razor-sharp momentum completely before launching an unhurried counterattack.

Shelley had slipped away to the side the moment Venigo stepped forward. Her expression shifted into one of pure, innocent smiles as she raised her hands high and began to chant a nursery rhyme. Above them, the heavy black clouds that seemed to be pressing down lower and lower reacted to her song, morphing into the shape of a colossal draconic beast.

This titanic dragon, spanning the space between heaven and earth, finally cracked open its massive jaws. In the next instant, an intensely frigid glacial gale howled forth from its maw, wrapping around the swirling snow to forge a giant whip composed of ice shards. It swept ruthlessly across the entire expanse in front of the Snowball Outpost.

Wherever it passed, friend and foe alike were coated in a layer of crystalline frost.

Sophie’s face turned pale blue, and with a sudden burst of exertion, she shook off the frost entirely. As for the others, the impact was evidently much greater.

Yet compared to the numerous Malzars, the Prism mercenaries possessed a much higher resistance to extreme climates thanks to their genetic modifications. After a brief hesitation, they shook off the effects of the low temperatures and charged toward the nearby enemies.

Meanwhile, the Malzars remained sluggish and even half-frozen due to the biting cold!

While they were indeed more cold-tolerant than most people, compared to the monsters of Prism, they still fell far short. Furthermore, Shelley’s glacial breath was simply incomparable to the natural harsh chill of the environment.

With just a single strike, she had completely tipped the scales of the entire battlefield!

"It appears your plan is not proceeding smoothly. Oh, esteemed special envoy of the Bleating Sheep Cult?" Venigo chuckled lightly.

"Spare me the wild guesses." Foster grunted, a brilliant yellow electrical discharge erupting along the length of his longsword. In an instant, his speed doubled, completely overwhelming the velocity of which Venigo was so proud.

Several wounds immediately appeared on Venigo’s body.

"Oh my?" Venigo remained completely unfazed. He batted away all the thrusts aimed at his vital points, allowing his less critical areas to be pierced by the opponent. Then, he raised his left hand and gave a gentle flick toward Foster's brow.

Finger Bullet: M1911!

This sudden ambush interrupted Foster's swift blade; instinctively sensing the danger, he dodged Venigo's sneak attack.

"As expected, you aren't that difficult to deal with after all." Venigo smiled.

Amidst his laughter, Foster sensed a wave of danger approaching from behind. Without a second thought, he whirled around and thrust his sword.

The blade pierced straight forward, striking a clawed monster standing over three meters tall. Though the creature was on the verge of death with the sword embedded in its chest, it still lashed out with its razor-sharp claws, nearly tearing away a large chunk of flesh from Foster's left shoulder.

Descending Art: Ripper! A reptilian creature featuring ochre-yellow scales and massive hooked claws that healed itself while tearing apart enemy flesh—a thoroughly troublesome entity.

In addition to his master swordsman skills, Venigo had prepared Descending Art as a backup ability. While Foster's momentum was temporarily checked and his guard lowered due to the surprise finger bullet, Venigo had summoned a Ripper directly behind him.

Thanks to the miraculous efficiency of the Action Principle, Venigo's summoning speed was extraordinarily fast. Had it not been for the supreme intuition of a top-tier swordsman, that single move might well have finished Foster off.

Without a moment of hesitation, Venigo invoked Descending Art once more, summoning a second Ripper.

"Mr. Foster, isn't it time you revealed your hidden cards?" Venigo asked softly, while gathering his momentum for an attack.

Hidden cards?

Foster suddenly unleashed an enraged roar. Caught within the shockwave of the sonic blast, the two Rippers were frozen in place, utterly immobilized, only to be swallowed up by a surge of erupting sword light the very next second.

Foster panted softly, keeping his gaze locked on Venigo. His right arm was visibly swollen, shimmering with a faint golden-red glow. Beneath the light, an extremely fine layer of scales pulsed rhythmically like breathing, radiating a formidable aura.

"So you truly are the special envoy of the Bleating Sheep Cult. Let me guess—did you come here to lure the Malzars into attacking White Cap Town and Ice Wind Town, thereby completely uprooting the High Council's influence along the northern frontier?" Venigo inquired.

"I only know that I am my Lord's sword," Foster replied, swinging his longsword downward toward the top of Venigo's head like a shooting star plummeting from the sky.

"Then let us converse with our swords." Venigo smiled.

A tyrant makes friends with cannons, while Venigo makes friends with swords... Those who do not understand this reference are kindly advised to skip it.

The long-accumulated sword momentum erupted violently, crashing fiercely against Foster's incoming blade technique. The intangible pressure caused the magic longsword in his hand to emit a continuous wail, bringing it to the very verge of fracture.

Fortunately, this blade was not one of those low-grade magical weapons favored by the Prism mercenaries, but rather a meticulously prepared backup sword provided by Ross. Its structural integrity was robust enough to prevent it from snapping amidst such a brutal clash.

In that single instant, thousands of blade strikes left both Venigo and Foster in a state of extreme nervous tension. They had no leisure to count how many blows the other had unleashed; they merely relied on instinct to thrust their weapons at maximum speed toward where they imagined the opponent's opening to be.

If there was no opening, then they would tear one open through sheer speed and offense!

As the battle dragged on, neither side knew anymore what they were piercing or where they were hacking.

Evidently, the one falling behind was Venigo.

Yet he remained completely unhurried, continuing to slash at a speed too fast for the eye to follow while slowly stepping backward. By yielding ground step by step, he gradually erased the advantage his opponent had built.

He was waiting for an opportunity.

Honey's voice suddenly grew louder. Having maintained her low-toned prayers throughout, as the incantation progressed, she unconsciously raised her volume, uttering the final divine words and channeling the intangible divine power.

Mind Sorcery: Berserk.

The target was not Foster, but Ross.

Ross's mental fortitude was clearly insufficient, and Honey's mind sorcery was inherently much stronger than that of ordinary priests and clerics due to unknown reasons. Under Honey's deliberate guidance and reinforcement, this spell successfully took control of Ross.

The young viscount's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, and he launched a ferocious, berserk assault in all directions. Admittedly, such attacks drastically increased his lethality, but wild, chaotic onslaughts were paradoxically much easier to evade.

Utilizing his swordsmanship, Soft easily guided Ross's attacks step by step toward the area where Foster and Venigo were fighting. At the optimal distance, Soft executed a diving forward roll, vaulting past Foster's back.

Roaring furiously, Ross lunged forward and thrust his sword directly at Foster.

This was precisely the opening Venigo had been waiting for. His eyes gleamed brightly, and without a second thought, he extended his hand and flicked his fingers three times in rapid succession.

Descending Art: Two-Headed Hellhound!

Under Venigo's control, the three hellhounds stepped back in unison, took a deep breath, and simultaneously breathed sulfur-scented red flames toward both Foster and Ross.

This time, it was Foster's turn to feel deeply frustrated.

Given his strength, neither dodging nor shattering the hellfire with sword qi would have been a difficult task. However, he had to protect Ross, who was currently in a berserk state—and Ross was actively attacking him.

Under these circumstances, no matter what action Foster took, he had to remain constantly on guard against Venigo, that menacing young man lurking nearby and biding his time for the killing blow.

Venigo, however, did not wait. Without waiting for Foster to formulate a response, he thrust his sword straight ahead.

This somewhat caught Foster off guard. Nevertheless, Foster still executed what he deemed to be the most correct choice.

With a single sweep of his sword, he suppressed Ross's blade, reached out to grab the young viscount by the collar, and leaped clear of the hellhounds' fiery breath. Throughout this process, the vast majority of his attention remained fixed on Venigo; he had to watch for whatever move the young man would make next.

Instinctively, he sensed that the greatest danger still emanated from this young lord.

Venigo smiled at Foster, who was suspended in mid-air and unable to touch the ground.

Even as the smile lingered on his face, the sword in his hand had already flashed forward with blinding speed.

Sword qi roared like thunder, detonating beneath Foster's feet. The explosive wave of energy swallowed Foster up almost instantly. With a roar, Foster's right arm bulged once more as he unleashed dozens of sword strikes in rapid succession, using a counter-offensive to suppress Venigo's momentum.

He was even too slow to guard against the hellhounds lunging from both flanks; his left arm and right leg were simultaneously clamped down by two fierce beasts, tearing away chunks of flesh. Foster collapsed to his knees on the spot.

At that moment, the berserk Ross slammed headfirst into the back of Foster's head, the impact jarring Foster's grip and forcing him to pitch forward onto the ground.

In the blink of an eye, victory and defeat were decided!