Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword Maniac

A Spirit Core Expert Is Still Too Slow

Boom!

The moment Leonard disappeared, the ground beneath his feet exploded. A streak of silver shot toward Alexander. The sword arrived before the sound of the explosion—far too fast for a sixteen-year-old Body Tempering cultivator.

Emily’s face went pale. “Brother!”

William’s expression changed. “Alexander!”

The blade was less than an inch from Alexander’s throat.

Then—

Clang!

Alexander’s sword moved. The two blades collided. Leonard’s eyes widened as Alexander’s feet slid backward several meters, his shoes carving two deep lines into the stone floor. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

The difference in cultivation was enormous.

Alexander looked at the sword in his hand, then at Leonard. “So that’s Spirit Core.”

Leonard stared at him. “You blocked that?”

Alexander wiped the blood from his mouth. “Technically.”

Leonard’s expression became ugly. “You’re only at Body Tempering.”

“I know.”

“You should have died.”

Alexander nodded. “Probably.”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t.”

Alexander smiled. “Unfortunately for you.”

Leonard’s killing intent exploded. “Then I’ll make sure you do.” He raised his sword. Spiritual energy surged from his body. The surrounding air distorted as a silver sword phantom appeared behind him.

Several Blackwood elders gasped. “Silver Moon Sword!” “That’s a Drake Family secret technique!” “Leonard actually used it against a child?”

William’s expression became furious. “Leonard!”

Leonard ignored him, eyes locked on Alexander. “Blackwood’s useless young master.” The sword phantom behind him grew larger. “Let’s see how many strikes you can survive.”

Alexander stared at the technique. A memory surfaced. He had seen this technique before—not once, not twice, but thousands of times. In his previous life, the Drake Family had used the Silver Moon Sword for generations. Alexander had personally fought their strongest ancestor. He knew every weakness, every opening, every flaw.

His eyes became strangely calm. “Your technique hasn’t changed.”

Leonard frowned. “What did you say?”

Alexander raised his sword. “The same stance.” His foot shifted slightly. “The same shoulder movement.” His grip loosened. “And the same stupid habit of revealing your attack before you launch it.”

Leonard’s face changed. “You—”

Alexander moved. Not forward. Not backward. Sideways—just half a step.

Leonard’s sword descended.

BOOM!

The silver sword phantom smashed into the ground. The entire courtyard shook. Dust exploded into the air.

Leonard smiled. “I got you.”

The dust cleared. Alexander was gone.

Leonard’s expression froze. A voice came from behind him. “No.”

Leonard turned. Alexander stood behind him, completely unharmed.

Leonard’s pupils contracted. “How?”

Alexander tapped the man’s shoulder with his sword. “You tell me.”

Leonard immediately turned and slashed. Alexander ducked. The blade passed above his head. He stepped forward and drove his knee into Leonard’s stomach.

Bang!

Leonard staggered. Alexander swung. Leonard barely blocked, forced backward—one step, two, three, four. His expression grew increasingly shocked.

How is this possible?

He was a Spirit Core cultivator. Alexander was barely at Body Tempering. Yet every attack was being predicted. Every movement was being countered. It wasn’t because Alexander was stronger. It was because Alexander understood the sword at a level Leonard couldn’t comprehend.

A sword wasn’t simply a weapon. It was movement. Distance. Timing. Balance. Intent. Alexander had spent three hundred years understanding those things. Leonard had spent his entire life believing cultivation could compensate for everything.

It couldn’t.

Alexander stepped forward. His sword moved.

Clang!

Leonard blocked. Another strike. Clang! Another. Clang!

Leonard’s arms began trembling. Alexander’s movements became faster—not because his body was getting stronger, but because he was wasting less movement. Every swing traveled the shortest possible distance. Every step placed him exactly where Leonard didn’t want him. Every strike forced Leonard into another disadvantageous position.

Leonard suddenly realized something terrifying. Alexander wasn’t fighting him. He was teaching him how helpless he was.

Leonard roared. “Enough!”

His spiritual energy erupted.

BOOM!

Alexander was thrown backward. Leonard’s breathing became heavy. Blood dripped from his arm. His clothes were torn. His expression was filled with humiliation. He had been injured—by a sixteen-year-old. A useless young master. Impossible.

Leonard’s eyes became bloodshot. “You little bastard!” He raised both hands. The silver sword phantom behind him grew to twenty meters. The pressure became terrifying.

William immediately shouted, “Alexander! Get back!”

Alexander didn’t move.

Emily ran toward him. “Brother!”

Alexander raised one hand. “Stay there.”

“But—”

“I’m fine.”

Emily stopped. She looked at his back. For some reason, she believed him.

Leonard laughed. “Fine?” He pointed his sword at Alexander. “You’re about to die!”

The enormous silver sword phantom descended.

BOOM!

The ground shattered. A massive crater appeared. The entire courtyard was swallowed by dust.

Emily screamed. “Brother!”

William’s heart sank. “Alexander!”

Leonard stood in the center of the destruction, breathing heavily. “It’s over.”

The dust slowly disappeared. Then a figure appeared. Alexander stood inside the crater. His clothes were torn. His left shoulder was bleeding. But he was standing.

Leonard stared at him. “No…”

Alexander slowly lifted his head. His eyes were different—no fear, no anger, no excitement. Only absolute calm.

Leonard suddenly felt something cold run down his spine.

Alexander whispered, “You made one mistake.”

Leonard swallowed. “What?”

Alexander lifted his sword. “You used too much power.”

Leonard didn’t understand.

Alexander smiled. “Power is wasted when you don’t know where to put it.” He took one step forward. His sword lowered. The air became strangely quiet.

William stared. He didn’t understand what his son was doing. But the old swordmaster standing among the Blackwood elders suddenly stood up, face pale. “That stance…”

William turned. “What?”

The old man stared at Alexander. “Impossible.”

Alexander’s feet shifted. His breathing slowed. His sword pointed toward the ground.

Three hundred years ago, Alexander had created this technique. He had developed it after fighting an ancient Sword Emperor. He had never given it a name, because naming it felt unnecessary. But during his final years, countless people had begun calling it One Step, One Sword—a technique where the sword moved only once. No unnecessary movement. No wasted energy. No second strike. One step. One sword. One death.

Alexander looked at Leonard. “You wanted to see my limit?” He smiled. “Then watch carefully.”

Leonard’s face changed. “Don’t!”

Alexander stepped forward.

Shing!

The sword flashed. For one moment, everything became silent.

Leonard’s silver sword phantom shattered. His spiritual energy dispersed. His sword broke in half. A thin line of blood appeared across his chest.

Leonard remained standing, eyes wide. He looked at Alexander, then at the broken sword in his hand. “How…”

His knees weakened. He fell.

Thud.

Silence.

Alexander lowered his sword. The entire Blackwood Estate was silent. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed.

A sixteen-year-old Body Tempering cultivator had defeated a Spirit Core expert—not through strength, not through a secret bloodline, not through some overwhelming treasure. Through the sword.

Alexander looked at the broken blade in his hand and sighed. “This sword is still terrible.”

Emily finally ran toward him. “You’re injured!”

Alexander looked at his shoulder. “Oh.”

“You said you were fine!”

“I am.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“That’s normal.”

“How is that normal?!”

Alexander looked at her seriously. “Bleeding means the blood is still inside the body.”

Emily stared at him. “That’s not how it works!”

Alexander smiled. For some reason, arguing with his sister felt wonderful. He had forgotten how much he missed this.

Then—

A strange sound came from the sky.

Ding.

Alexander froze. Nobody else seemed to hear it. A translucent golden panel appeared before his eyes.

---

[Origin Sword Seed Has Detected a Suitable Host Body.]

[Sword Intent Compatible.]

[First Sword Trial Completed.]

[Origin Sword Seed Awakening: 0.01%]

[Host has received: Sword Heart Fragment.]

---

Alexander stared at the panel. His expression slowly changed. “What…”

A warm sensation spread through his chest. The tiny sword seed inside his body trembled. For the first time since his reincarnation, it released a faint pulse.

Boom.

Alexander’s spiritual energy surged. His cultivation began rising—Body Tempering Level One… Level Two. The increase stopped.

Alexander stood completely still. Nobody noticed except him. He could feel it. The Origin Sword Seed had finally awakened. Only 0.01%. Yet even that tiny amount was enough to change his body. His meridians began repairing themselves. His bones became stronger. His muscles tightened. His senses sharpened.

Alexander clenched his fist. A smile slowly appeared. “Finally.”

Three hundred years of swordsmanship. Three hundred years of memories. And now he had begun rebuilding the foundation that would eventually lead him back to the peak.

But there was something else. Alexander looked at the black jade token lying on the ground. His smile disappeared. The Celestial Court had appeared far earlier than expected. That meant the future was already moving beyond his memories. And if that was true, then there was no guarantee that everything he remembered would happen the same way.

A new life meant a new future.

Alexander picked up the black token. His eyes became cold. “Fine.” He looked toward the night sky. “If the future wants to change… then I’ll change with it.”

Far away, inside a hidden underground palace, an old man suddenly opened his eyes.

A servant knelt before him. “Lord.”

The old man’s expression was grim. “The Blackwood attack has failed.”

Silence.

“Who stopped it?”

The servant hesitated. “The young master.”

The old man frowned. “William?”

“No.” The servant lowered his head. “Alexander Blackwood.”

The old man froze. “That cripple?”

“Yes.”

The old man’s fingers slowly tightened around the armrest. “Impossible.”

The servant continued. “He defeated a Spirit Core cultivator.”

The room became silent. After a long moment, the old man whispered, “Inform the Court.”

“What should we tell them?”

The old man’s eyes became cold. “Tell them…” He looked toward the darkness. “…the Sword Maniac has returned.”