The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 719

“The Sword Saint!”

The White Blood Cult leader clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening in frustration.

“Are you insane? What do you think you’re doing?” She snarled, baring her teeth like a beast.

“Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”

The Fallen One sighed heavily, his calm demeanor shaken for once as he stared at the Sword Saint.

“We had a chance—a chance to kill the Northern Annihilation King, Glenn Zieghart. And instead of helping us finish him off, you saved him. What in the world are you thinking?”

Even his usually tranquil gaze flickered with irritation and disbelief.

[**Sword Saint.**]

The Dragon Lord’s golden eyes narrowed as he looked down on the Sword Saint.

[**How exactly do you expect me to interpret this?**]

The Dragon Lord’s previous rage toward Glenn now shifted, steam billowing from his nostrils as he turned his ire toward the Sword Saint.

“…”

Meanwhile, Derus Robert remained silent, his eyes shifting quietly behind his blue dragon helmet.

– *I had my suspicions from the start…*

Wrath chuckled humorlessly.

– *He’s completely unhinged, just like I thought.*

‘Seems that way,’ Raon agreed, glancing at Derus’s subdued expression.

‘He’s rattled.’

Though Derus tried to maintain his composure, his eyes betrayed him. The Sword Saint’s actions were completely unexpected—even to him.

‘This wasn’t part of his plan.’

Derus had immediately called for the Fallen One and the White Blood Cult leader to kill Glenn the moment his ambush failed. He had calculated everything, anticipating reinforcements like Chamber and King Lecross—but not this.

‘He must have thought the arrival of the dragons and the Sword Saint would seal Glenn’s fate.’

But the Sword Saint’s unpredictable behavior had thrown everything off. Even Derus’s carefully laid plans were unraveling before his eyes.

‘To see him shaken like this… twice.’

Raon recalled Derus’s shocked expression earlier, when his ambush had been thwarted. Now, seeing the man’s facade crack a second time felt strangely satisfying, almost as if it healed the lingering frustration in his heart.

“So, you think I saved Glenn Zieghart?” The Sword Saint tilted his head arrogantly.

“Have you all lost your minds?”

He sneered, glancing down at the leaders of the Five Demons with contempt.

“What do you mean by that?” Derus finally spoke, his voice low and cautious.

“I don’t understand either,” the Fallen One muttered. The mask on his youthful face darkened with confusion.

“Zieghart is in the worst condition I’ve ever seen him. He’s exhausted, his body riddled with internal injuries. He even used his Sword Field, leaving nothing to fear from him now.”

“Sword Field?” The Sword Saint scoffed, releasing his sword into the air as he brushed his hair back.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Huh?” The Fallen One’s eyes narrowed.

“You think Glenn Zieghart’s injuries or sword techniques make him weak? You’re delusional.”

The Sword Saint’s sword rang with a sharp, resonating hum, echoing his disdain.

“Let me be clear. I didn’t save Glenn Zieghart—I saved all of *you.*”

A chilling glimmer danced in the Sword Saint’s golden eyes.

“What…?” Derus’s brow furrowed in disbelief.

“You two know the truth, don’t you?” The Sword Saint’s gaze flicked over the White Blood Cult leader and the Dragon Lord.

“You know that Glenn Zieghart’s true sword isn’t hindered by injuries or depleted aura.”

He caressed the blade hovering in the air, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“Isn’t it strange? That this brainless lunatic—” he gestured toward the White Blood Cult leader— “is holding back, playing with Ogram instead of charging in.”

“And those dragons, despite their power, refuse to descend from the sky and unleash their full strength. Why do you think that is?”

The Sword Saint smirked, his hand tracing the blade of his floating sword.

“They’ve already encountered Glenn’s true sword—and it terrified them.”

The cult leader and the Dragon Lord exchanged tense glances, saying nothing, their silence confirming the Sword Saint’s words.

“Why else would the cult attack Ogram, the Black Tower scramble for artifacts, and the dragons break neutrality to ally with you?”

His calm, matter-of-fact tone sent shivers down the spines of the Fallen One and Derus.

“Then… you saved us because…” Derus’s voice wavered.

“Because Glenn Zieghart was waiting for the perfect moment—when your vision was obscured by the dragons’ Breath—to cut you all down with a single strike.”

The Sword Saint chuckled as he ran his hand along the gleaming blade.

“That sly old man was preparing for a killing blow that none of you would’ve survived. Isn’t that right, Glenn Zieghart?”

He tilted his chin toward Glenn.

“…” Glenn said nothing, simply staring at the Sword Saint, his pale face devoid of expression.

Raon swallowed hard as he looked at Glenn.

‘Could it be…?’

The more Raon thought about it, the more it made sense. Glenn had shown no signs of panic throughout the battle—until the Sword Saint’s sudden arrival, as if his carefully planned opportunity had slipped away.

“This can’t be happening,” the Fallen One muttered in disbelief.

“…”

[ … ]

The White Blood Cult leader and the Dragon Lord remained silent, their expressions confirming the truth.

“So, the Northern Annihilation King was only pretending to be weakened…” Derus whispered, his lips curling in frustration as he accepted the reality.

“How did you see through his ruse?”

“Because I stand at the same pinnacle as Glenn Zieghart.”

The Sword Saint spread his arms, a triumphant grin splitting his face.

“I, too, have poured my soul into the sword.”

“The same level…?” Raon murmured, astonished by the Sword Saint’s unwavering confidence.

‘Wrath, is that true?’

– *Not quite, kid.*

Wrath shook his head dismissively.

– *Your old man Glenn is still a step ahead. But this lunatic… he’s close enough to bend the balance, like those cursed lizards say.*

Wrath let out a long, exaggerated yawn.

“Now, get lost.”

The Sword Saint waved dismissively at the Five Demons.

“I didn’t save you out of kindness.”

“Then why stop the Breath?” Raon asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Because…” The Sword Saint’s golden eyes sparkled with mad delight.

“The likes of you aren’t worthy of Glenn Zieghart’s true sword. Only *I* am.”

His face twisted with an ecstatic grin, as if the very thought filled him with joy.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derus took a step back, his expression hardening.

“If that sword is as powerful as you say, there must be a limit. Otherwise, why hasn’t he used it yet?”

“You’re not wrong.”

The Sword Saint licked his lips, his gaze sharp and hungry.

“There’s always a cost. But to those of us who have dedicated our lives to the blade, limits mean nothing.”

He stood confidently before Glenn, his grin widening.

“I’ve solved your riddle, Glenn Zieghart.”

At his command, the floating sword hummed, releasing subtle ripples through the air.

“A riddle, huh…” Glenn’s cold eyes narrowed.

“You grow crazier every time we meet.”

“Madness is a small price for the joy of the sword,” the Sword Saint murmured, exhaling deeply, his half-lidded eyes gleaming with rapture.

“Fall back,” Glenn commanded.

Without hesitation, the mages of Balkan, the knights of Owen, and the warriors of the Beast Alliance stepped back from their standoff with the Five Demon leaders, retreating behind Glenn.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Old man…”

“What the hell is going on here?”

King Lecross, Chamber, and Ogram followed suit, although their bodies remained tense, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

“Raon.”

Glenn acknowledged the leaders of the Six Kings with a subtle nod before turning toward Raon, beckoning him closer.

“Stand beside me.”

“W-What do you mean…?”

“I wanted you to witness this.”

His voice softened to a murmur, hinting that it might be a rare sight that even he couldn’t guarantee showing again. Blood mingled with the breath he exhaled.

“You’re going to kill that boy?”

The Sword Saint scoffed, the corner of his lips twisting upward.

“Apologies, but I still haven’t fully mastered my power.”

“Don’t worry,” Glenn replied calmly, lifting his gaze steadily.

“You won’t even touch him.”

Despite the blood trickling from his lips, he gave a reassuring wave, his demeanor utterly composed.

“Very well. Even though I hate to waste such an opportunity, a grander feast awaits me now!”

The Sword Saint clasped his hands together, and with a blinding radiance, his sword surged with overwhelming power.
A massive, ominous blade, cloaked in dark light, seemed poised to cleave through the very fabric of the world.

“Ugh…”

Raon trembled uncontrollably, his entire body quivering as he gazed up at the Sword Saint’s sword. The energy swirling around it surpassed even the power of Glenn’s Heavenly Tremor.

‘He’s insane.’

Even from where he stood, the Sword Saint’s presence stole his breath and seared his soul with unbearable pain. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could hope to stop that monster.

‘Can you really do this, Grandfather?’

Raon glanced at Glenn, standing beside him. His face was still pale, and dried blood stained his lips. It didn’t look like he was feigning exhaustion.

-It’ll be fine.

Wrath’s voice was uncharacteristically solemn as he gave a reassuring nod.

-Trust your old man.

Wrath settled onto Raon’s shoulder, urging him to watch the scene unfold.

‘Alright.’

Raon clenched his shaking legs, drawing strength from Wrath’s confidence. He straightened his back, determination burning in his crimson eyes.

—

“This ends now,” the Sword Saint declared with quiet resolve as his sword began to move.

The black blade radiated an immense force, as if it would devour every sword and technique in existence.

“Convergence of Ten Thousand Blades.”

The Sword Saint had encapsulated his entire life—every battle fought, every sword mastered—into this ultimate technique. It was the pinnacle of swordsmanship, a declaration to dominate all others beneath his blade.

*Exhale.*

Glenn watched the Sword Saint’s ultimate strike with calm, measured breaths.

‘He’s really reached that realm.’

Indeed, the Sword Saint had ascended to a higher state, transcending his former limits. He had turned his murderous intent into a solution, treating his challenge as a “riddle” to be solved.

“Ugh…”

The overwhelming pressure made Raon cough blood, his body trembling as he struggled to withstand the Sword Saint’s energy.

“Raon.”

Glenn placed a steady hand on Raon’s shoulder, his gaze serene.

“It’s alright.”

What he was about to show Raon was a technique born from the happiness and joy his grandson had given him—an art that replaced anger with tranquility.

He had forged it not out of hatred, but from the peace Raon had restored to his heart.

“Don’t watch with your eyes. Feel it with your heart. I know you can.”

His voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he lifted the Heavenly Tremor in a poised stance.

Rumble…

Against the overwhelming power of the Sword Saint’s *Convergence of Ten Thousand Blades*, Glenn revealed the sum of his martial mastery, life, and soul.

A quiet yet chilling energy surged from the Heavenly Tremor.

Unlike the blinding radiance or explosive aura of the Sword Saint, Glenn’s sword radiated only a pure, cutting intent—a blade wielded with the sole purpose of severing what stood before it.

And yet, the results were incomparable.

The dark clouds parted. The roaring waves stilled. The overwhelming presence of the Sword Saint’s technique began to unravel, as though it had never existed in the first place.

“What…?”

The Sword Saint’s golden eyes widened in disbelief, blood trickling from his lips.

“Now!”

The White Blood Cult leader seized the moment, unleashing every ounce of her gathered blood energy in a desperate assault.

Buzzing ominously, the Fallen One followed with a fusion of light and shadow, hurling a spell charged with divine and dark energies.

Roar!

The Dragon Lord and the elder dragons unleashed their devastating breaths, converging their elemental fury in an attempt to obliterate Glenn.

“You filthy scoundrels!”

“I knew you’d try something like this!”

“Disgusting creatures!”

As Lecross, Ogram, Chamber, and the Spirit Kings prepared to intervene, Glenn held up a hand to stop them.

“Let them be.”

Despite the oncoming storm of energy, Glenn remained composed, as though such an attack were of no consequence.

With a calm, fluid motion, he swung the Heavenly Tremor.

Swoosh!

Glenn’s sword didn’t merely cut through magic or aura—it severed the very essence of the beings before him. His strike cleaved through their souls.

[Retreat! Everyone, retreat!]

“Cursed fool!”

“What the hell is that sword?!”

The Dragon Lord and the leaders of the Five Demons fled in terror, abandoning their forces as Glenn’s soul-cleaving sword swept through the battlefield.

“Grrr…”

Even Derus Robert, sensing the lethal intent closing in on him, hurled his enchanted bracelet to create an explosion of deathly energy around him.

Splat!

But Glenn’s sword cut through it all—nullifying every wave, every curse, every essence.

When the white slash faded, nothing remained—not even a trace of the energies his enemies had summoned.

“This sword’s name…” Glenn whispered, his voice soft, as though speaking from a distant place.

He turned his gaze toward Raon, a faint, warm smile spreading across his face.

“Is —the Heart’s Sword.”