Within the terror, there was also rage. Like an animal facing its natural enemy—trembling all over, legs shaking, yet still going berserk for one last desperate struggle.
"Hiss—!" With a sharp screech, Blademaw suddenly dropped its guard, spread its arms wide, and lunged at Jack Young. Its humanoid shape wasn’t just for show—it used to be a human king. But when the situation called for it, it could toss all that aside and become a pure killing machine. It was like a flower made of blades bursting open—its torso unraveling, unleashing a countless swarm of razor edges all aimed at Jack.
And at the very center of all those blades, there was a force that put every other weapon to shame. Just sensing it felt like getting cut. If that sword came down, there’d be almost nothing in this world that could block it. Any ordinary flesh and bone would be shredded instantly.
But it couldn’t land the blow, because Jack Young calmly raised his hand, fingers pointed like a sword, and—right on cue—jabbed Blademaw square in the chest.
Advanced—Internal Martial Arts.
Ding—a sound like a petal landing on water, tiny but impossible to ignore, rippling outward in endless circles. Blademaw shuddered all over, freezing in place like it’d been hit by a stun spell.
Ding ding ding—In a split second, Teacher Jack’s hands blurred, his ten fingers flicking like a piano virtuoso, casual and free. Blademaw was suddenly just a piano, or maybe a wind chime—a well-behaved instrument, not a rampaging powerhouse. No matter how crazed and furious it got, it couldn’t move a single finger. Its body parts drifted apart, losing contact, like it might slip out of its own control forever.
Its energy connections scrambled, blocked, cut off. In the next instant, Jack Young’s eyes flashed cold, his fingers turning into a palm. A dragon’s shadow flickered, power surging, as he slammed his palm upward into Blademaw’s chest.
At the same time, Jill Young swooped in from afar, let out a wild yell, and smashed a heavy fist down right on Blademaw’s head.
Time seemed to slow down all at once.
Crack, crack—the force exploded like a giant pane of glass shattering and rotting away, piece by piece. That terrifying fracture built up in Blademaw’s chest, fermented, and finally blew apart with a thunderous boom.
Boom! The air erupted in a chain of blasts, wild winds whipping, iron shrapnel flying everywhere. Blademaw blew up completely, its fragments like bullets, punching holes through the surrounding trees and leaving them shaking and shredded.
Amid the piercing shriek of its soul, Blademaw’s spirit barely managed to escape. This time, it had no solid form left—nine-tenths of its blades were gone, leaving only a few dozen circling its helmet in a frantic dance. Beneath the helmet, a glowing Xuan Divine Weapon floated, shimmering in the void.
That was a genuine Xuan Divine Weapon—the core of Blademaw, and a legendary sword from Middle-earth’s history, once wielded by the Dark God Magos. Ten Great Divine Weapons spun around, with the Xuan Divine Weapon floating at the center. With this lineup, nothing could stand in its way—not even nine layers of armor could withstand the Xuan Divine Weapon’s peerless edge.
But a divine weapon only matters in the hands of a master, and a hero is just a beefcake without a brave soul.
Blademaw finally chickened out.
With a howl, it suddenly gathered all the blades it could still control and shot skyward. Losing ninety percent of its body meant it was now ninety percent lighter. With the same power, its speed went through the roof. Dozens of flying swords spun like a reverse tornado, shooting straight up into the sky and reaching hundreds of meters in an instant. The elves, still tangled with the orcs, tried to draw their bows, but had to give up—no arrow could ever catch up.
That’s why nobody thought about running before—Blademaw was faster than any arrow. If it attacked, you couldn’t escape. If it ran, you couldn’t stop it. Of all Sauron’s Nine Ringwraiths, Blademaw is the only one who hangs out in the human world, and wherever it goes, chaos follows. Stopping it? Good luck.
But right in the heart of the tornado, with all that wind swirling, the twins still had time to chat.
"That palm strike of yours was pretty interesting. Got a name for it?"
"It’s a mutant version of the Demolition Palm: Metal Fatigue Palm."
"When’d you come up with that?"
"Just now."
"Oh."
"That punch you threw felt pretty good too. Got a name for it?"
"Nope."
"When’d you invent it?"
"Can’t remember. Not much of a name, really—I just felt like punching that way. Wanna spar later?"
"Spar later. For now, let’s finish this thing."
"Yeah, let’s kill it first."
As soon as they finished speaking, the twins bent their knees, powered up, and blasted skyward, cracking the ground beneath them. Far off, Gandalf and the others saw two streaks—one platinum, one pale blue—shooting up into the heavens, bouncing off flying swords like stepping stones, zigzagging straight after Blademaw’s true form.
Blademaw’s soul let out a shrill scream, panicking as it pulled back its power, ready to ditch any leftover scraps of its body to escape faster. But it was too late—the twins were on it in a flash, lightning quick.
A divine halo blazed up behind Jack’s head, flashing once—Unerring Spirit Sense, trapping shadow.
A blazing mark lit up on Jill’s forehead; she raised her arm like a blade, her sky-splitting blade intent enough to scare ghosts.
Most people couldn’t even see what happened in that split second—they just saw two streaks of light, snipping a giant cross in the air like a pair of scissors. The massive cross slash lingered, glowing in the sky, and at its center, Blademaw was completely frozen.
Next second, it lost all life and dropped from the sky.
Whoosh—the twins landed from way up high, hit the ground with a thud, and casually got back up.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Swords rained down like a scattered meteor shower, skewering a few unlucky orcs on the spot. Clang, clang, clang—the Great Divine Weapons stuck in the earth, punching clean through solid rock like it was nothing. But now, they were just regular blades, powerless to move on their own.
In the sword rain, the twins didn’t even look—just reached out and caught them. With two quick snatches, one grabbed the Xuan Divine Weapon, the other caught Blademaw’s iron mask. The infamous Blademaw, one of the terrifying Nine Ringwraiths who’d assassinated countless humans and elves, went up in smoke just like that.
Off in the distance, Jasper Xiao clapped Gandalf on the back, grinning ear to ear: "How’s that for reinforcements?"
Gandalf snapped out of his shock, dropping his jaw-dropped look and switching to his classic old-man voice: "You know, Jasper Xiao, I’m a big fan of languages. I’ve studied almost every tongue in Middle-earth—elvish, dwarvish, human, monster. Each one has its own quirks and emotions you just can’t express in any other language."
Old folks do love to ramble. Jasper Xiao didn’t mind: "And then?"
"And then, I picked up a few words from your crew’s hometown language. Gotta admit, it’s complicated, refined, and pretty fun. There’s one word, though, that sums up everything I want to say." Gandalf pointed toward the twins.
Jasper Xiao got curious: "What word?"
Gandalf gave a big thumbs-up and drew out the word, full of drama: "—Badass—"
The orcs broke and ran, total victory for the good guys. Elf knights raised their moonblades and howled with excitement. These elegant folks, in a big win, got as rowdy as dwarves after a few drinks. They stared at the twins, eyes full of awe.
Just showing up and taking out a monster like that? Every king in Middle-earth would treat the twins like honored guests for that alone. If reinforcements need a calling card, this one’s bigger than Guan Yu slicing Hua Xiong over a cup of warm wine.
This is legendary.
But the twins, newly crowned legends of Middle-earth, didn’t look excited at all. They’d beaten a Ringwraith, but their faces were serious. They glanced at each other—no words needed. Killing Blademaw, they finally saw just how strong their real enemies were.
"Let’s go, my champions!" Gandalf rode up, beaming. "Follow me—I think it’s time for a grand welcome. The kings will be thrilled to meet you all."