Chapter 295: Semi-Finals [2] Noah stood across from Hiroshi, his posture relaxed yet stripped of the casual air he had worn in earlier matches. His expression hardened, not with anger, but with a focus that signalled he had no intention of dragging this round out. He was not here to entertain the spectators, the other competitors or even the judges. He was here to do his job and move on. The referee raised the ceremonial leaf high, the delicate green trembling between two fingers before drifting downward. The arena hushed immediately as dozens of spectators fixed their eyes on the leaf, waiting for the moment it touched the floor. When the leaf landed with the faintest brush of sound, the world seemed to regain its vibrant colour. WHOOSH! Noah’s figure blurred forward with incredible momentum, carrying him towards his opponent. Some of the spectators in the crowd gasped at the incredible speed. The judges, veterans of countless tournaments, leaned forward in interest. This was nothing like the cautious approach Noah had shown in all of his previous rounds. Noah launched himself across the platform with speed so sharp it felt unnatural, his movement starting before most realised the signal had been given. Hiroshi’s eyes widened in shock. He had expected a measured opening exchange, perhaps even another round of Noah’s counter-attacking method. Instead, Noah closed the distance before Hiroshi’s muscles had finished responding. It looked less like a reaction and more like foresight, as though Noah had already known when the match would begin. THWACK! The sword slammed into Hiroshi’s guard before his blade had cleared half its arc. The strike landed with such force that it rattled through his arms and sent him stumbling backwards. His stance collapsed under the impact, his weight carried by instinct rather than control. The audience erupted. Some cried out in surprise, others whispered in disbelief. The judges traded glances, struggling to reconcile what they had just witnessed with the young man’s earlier restraint. "Incredible speed," one of them muttered, almost to himself. "He is no longer playing around, huh?" Among the crowd, Master Tanaka allowed himself a faint smile. Noah was no longer masking his ability with half-measures and careful delays. This was the true strength he had kept hidden until now. That single exchange revealed the gulf between Noah and the rest of the tournament. Hiroshi was a capable swordsman, but against the force that had just been unveiled, capability meant nothing. What Master Tanaka and the rest of the spectators did not realise was that Noah had yet to reveal his true strength. He had not even drawn on half of it. If he had, Hiroshi would not simply have staggered backwards. He would have collapsed, his body broken beyond recognition, the blade cleaving through him despite its dull edge meant to prevent such outcomes. Noah pressed forward without pause. His next strike landed with terrific power, the blow hammering against Hiroshi’s faltering defence and driving him stumbling once again. Each movement carried intent, efficient and difficult to stop, leaving no space for his opponent to breathe. The crowd roared. Excitement rattled the arena, a mix of awe and disbelief. Never before had a semifinal match shown such a staggering disparity in skill. It looked absurd, almost farcical, that two competitors standing on the same stage could be separated by such a gulf. Kenji’s face darkened with fury as he watched from the sidelines. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. At this rate, Hiroshi was not just going to lose—he was going to be humiliated To Kenji, Hiroshi’s humiliating defeat was akin to his own. Since he had lost at Hiroshi’s hands, that meant in turn that Noah would have dealt him a worse defeat, and he couldn’t accept it. How could a lazy person like Noah, who didn’t even train, beat them so easily? Kenji’s jaw was so rigid that a little muscle was visible just underneath his cheekbone. "Hiroshi!" Kenji bellowed, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. "Regain your footing, damn it! If you don’t, I’ll come down there and beat your ass myself!" The threat echoed across the platform, but it did nothing to help. Hiroshi’s teeth ground together as he tried to hold his ground. Sweat rolled down his temple, his arms trembling under the weight of Noah’s relentless assault. Although only five seconds had passed since the battle had started, it felt like an eternity to Hiroshi, who was under the assault. He wanted to fight back, but all he could do was resist for another heartbeat, another breath, praying for an opening that never came. It was as if Noah’s stance had no mistakes, no weaknesses, nothing he could exploit. But as a powerful swordsman, Hiroshi knew that there was no such thing as a perfect stance. This meant one thing, and it hurt him to his core. I’m simply not good enough. His skill, experience and raw power completely overpower me. I have nothing over him whilst he has everything over me...I could only hold on for a few more seconds to save my dignity. Hiroshi thought with a grim look on his face. Whoosh! Clash! The air cracked with the sound of another strike. Noah feinted low, his blade cutting toward Hiroshi’s side. Desperation flashed across Hiroshi’s face as he twisted, lowering his guard to protect his liver. In that same instant, Noah moved, the feint became a fluid arc, the weapon rising and crashing down in a brutal overhead strike. Bam! The blow slammed against Hiroshi’s collarbone. Pain buckled his knees, and he dropped down, the strength in his arms faltering. Before he could recover, Noah moved again, his follow-up strike precise and quick. With one clean sweep, he knocked the sword from Hiroshi’s grasp. The weapon clattered across the platform, its echo loud against the silence that followed. The match was over. Noah stood tall, his breathing calm, his eyes steady. Hiroshi knelt before him, defeated, unable to even lift his arms. The crowd erupted once more, their cheers thundering through the hall.