Spirit Conductor Chapter 20

Chapter 20 – The Throne (2)

No tactics. No formations. The army of the death just attacked Jhuro Yashura with their full, raw power!

Jhuro steadied his breath. Prepared the best mind to maximize his peak mid-level ‘Water Flowing Style’.

Five enemies approached with swords in their hands.

The Blackfang Swordsman of the Yashura Family welcomed them with a blurry and dazing move, instantly cutting their heads as his silhouette swiftly pa.s.sed by.

“Come,” he said. “You f.u.c.kers,” and he added.

More and more dead men charged. And Jhuro started to dance his ‘Water Flowing Style’ again.

He beautifully dodged every sword slashes and pike thrusts and at the same time, chopped more and more heads while he was at it.

Minutes later, most of the dead men were headless. Jhuro started to cut their limbs as fast as possible.

The mercenaries of the camp were ma.s.sacred by Nura the Necromancer. And now their dead bodies were ma.s.sacred again by Jhuro Yashura.

Jhuro stepped out of the crippled army.

“Try again when you're much f.u.c.kin’ older, kiddos,” he said while sheathed his sword.

He coolly walked forward, one by one the standing dead men behind him fell like a bunch of dominoes.

From the Blackwood’s tent, an enthusiastic clap was heard.

“Still amazing as always,” the smiled Nura revealed himself. A burly bodyguard followed behind him. “h.e.l.lo, Jhuju.”

“Nura f.u.c.kin’ Blackwood,” Jhuro Yashura greeted the pale man back.

“Ah, it’s Nura Gilmour now. I said before, right?”

“You killed a bunch of f.u.c.kin’ innocent men here, such an a.s.shole.”

“Isn’t your hobby provoked by some annoying but innocent people too? Then killed them in the end?”

“I’m just an occasional a.s.shole by choice. You’re a f.u.c.kin’ permanent a.s.shole, the type that people don’t have cures for it.”

Nura Gilmour chuckled.

“What do you want now, Nura,” Jhuro asked with a serious tone.

“Just a proper chat.”

“Don’t bulls.h.i.+t me again.”

Nura Gilmour shrugged his shoulder, then tossed a green bamboo stick to Jhuro. “Here, catch it.”

When he caught it with his hand, Jhuro found the bamboo stick was actually his old sword sheath. “You stole my favorite sheath and now you give it back? f.u.c.k you.”

“Don’t you want that thing again?”

“Should I say thank you? I can f.u.c.kin’ kill you with this thing, ya know,” Jhuro replaced his current sword sheath with the green bamboo sheath. The sheath actually performed as poisons sack for him, and the bamboo sheath was the secret weapon that needed years for poison master like him to nurture.

Nura Gilmour was silent for a while, then gestured his head to invite Jhuro to Blackwood’s tent. “Let’s chat about your son.”

“The f.u.c.k you talkin’ about my son?!”

Nura Gilmour smiled bitterly. He knew things wouldn’t go as smooth as he wished. So much for a friendly chat over gla.s.ses of tea.

“You worked hard to the bone just to bought expensive elixirs for your son, which we both knew some were rare and not accessible to common people. Moreover, one year ago, your high and mighty Grandpa Lharu helped with his huge wealth to bought even rare and heavenly ingredients that usually used by grand kingdoms as tributes to heaven. Well, naturally, as you feared, people started to asked questions and put more attention to this matter.”

Jhuro Yashura eyes started to shake. He lost his confidence. “What do you trying to say?”

“Oh, did Butler Yulong never told you about it?”

“Told me? About what?” the man’s hands started to tremble as well.

“Your old buddy Good-Natured Spirit now become a good friend with your son.”

Jhuro Yashura couldn’t utter a word as he stared at the pale man.

“I said,” Nura Gilmour repeated himself. “Old buddy Good-Natured Spirit no—”

Shhiiing!

Jhuro pounced toward Nura Gilmour with sword readied in his hand.

However, a big silhouette suddenly appeared to block his path.

Claaank!

The swordsman of Yashura Family clashed his weapon against a flash of a long iron stick, which later appeared itself as a rusty spear with dragon ornaments on the surface.

Jhuro Yashura tried to make a difficult maneuver for his next sword attack, swiftly sent a sword thrust toward the burly bodyguard’s torso.

Siiiinnkk, claaank!

The sword thrust yet blocked again, easily slid on the spear’s rusty shaft to weaken its momentum then parried without much resistance.

The bodyguard might have big and full of muscle body, but his reaction and speed actually faster than Jhuro predicted.

After that, with a swift and powerful leg, the burly bodyguard gave Jhuro Yashura a forceful kick.

Jhuro flew like a human canon. He spat a mouthful of blood when he landed on the desert sand.

“Ah, I think I understand the butler’s mind now,” behind the bodyguard, Nura uttered some words. “You definitely will die much earlier if you knew what’s really happened. n.o.body would like that.”

The light in Jhuro’s eyes was clouded. But his mind a little bit calm by now. “Just say what do you want from me?”

Nura Gilmour knew they couldn’t have a simple and happy conversation just like he wanted before.

“My desire still the same, Jhuju. To help you. The throne of dreams, remember?”

When he heard the answer, Jhuro let out a long sigh.

“Like I said before, surpa.s.s me and you’ll get whatever you want with that power of yours,” Jhuro Yashura said with a low voice, repeating the young, hopeful and rash version of himself from years ago.

Nura Gilmour didn’t answer.

Around the camp, the weak and crippled dead men suddenly became sandy dolls.

The wind blew again. This time, a huge sandstorm might approach.

Both Jhuro and Nura glanced toward the coming wind.

“Let me help you.”

“f.u.c.k no,” Jhuro shook his head.

“Do you think you could fight the spirit alone? Do you forget who he really is? What about people behind your wife? Do you think you can fight them all alone?”

This time, it was Jhuro who didn’t answer.

“You stupid fool, Jhuju. A stubborn, stupid fool.”

Jhuro smirked mockingly, not to the one who insulted him, but to the incompetent himself.

“Let me help you,” Nura Gilmour said again with a stern voice.

Jhuro Yashura stood with much effort, picked up his sword, and pointed it at the pale man. “Surpa.s.s me first.”

Nura Gilmour smiled. “Then ready yourself.”

The Necromancer flicked his finger. His bodyguard suddenly charged.

Jhuro’s body blurred as ‘Water Flowing Style’ activated. However, he didn’t move fast enough for a flash of a big hand quickly gripped his neck.

But the Blackfang Swordsman didn’t lose hope. He waited for something as he tried to break free from the burly bodyguard’s crus.h.i.+ng grip.

The big burly bodyguard found a small wound on his right cheek. He looked at Jhuro, who gave him a ridiculed gaze.

He got himself struck with Jhuro’s poisonous needle.

However, the bodyguard replied with a mocking grin. The red-faced Jhuro wondered why his poisons didn’t react by now, as he started to hear a cracking sound from his neck.

Out of the blue, seven pairs of blinding white wings of light appeared on the bodyguard’s back.

The sparks of hope from Jhuro’s gaze suddenly disappeared.

“I’m sorry for the twist, old friend. But I don’t want you to prepare a poison for him beforehand,” Nura’s calm voice was heard.

All Jhuro’s poison was prepared days or months before, most of them were deadly against a human being.

Unfortunately, the burly bodyguard wasn’t human.

He tightened his grip, a loud crack of bones was heard.

Crack.

The light from Jhuro’s eyes went away, his hands were weakened, the man was killed when the burly bodyguard broke his neck.

Sadness poured Nura Gilmour’s chest as he looked at his old friend’s dead body.

“Let’s go home before the sandstorm catches to us,” Nura ordered his bodyguard anyway.

The burly man nodded. The wings of light disappeared from his back. He carried Jhuro Yashura’s corpse on his shoulder then followed obediently behind his master, Nura Gilmour the Necromancer.

After that, nothing more happened. The desert was silent as a grave.