Walking through the devastated areas, Ryuma bore witness to Wano's terrible state. A quiet resolve took root in his heart: he would take Kaidou's place, and eventually, he would drive Kaidou out of Wano for good!
Doing it all alone would be tough, though. Right now, he needed to focus on two things: absorbing the power of more Devil Fruits to boost his strength, and crushing his enemies both physically and mentally.
After a while, a group of men dressed in kimonos marched into the ruins to face him. The man leading them had long, pink hair.
He was tall and hideously ugly, with a blunt fringe of bangs and long, bushy hair sweeping the floor in the shape of a calligraphy brush tip. He wore a vest over a robe, paired with brown wooden sandals.
There was no mistake—this man was Kurozumi Kanjuro!
Ryuma remembered it crystal clear. Years down the line, it would be Kanjuro's betrayal that tipped off Orochi, leading to the execution of the Kozuki family's retainers, endless bloodshed, and the total downfall of Wano.
Orochi was vile, but compared to a traitor like Kanjuro, he almost paled in comparison!
"So, you're the bastard going around calling yourself Ryuma, huh?" Kanjuro said sternly.
"What do you think? Take a look at the bodies on the ground and save your breath," Ryuma replied coolly, his gaze instinctively dropping to the giant brush in Kanjuro's hands.
That brush was the key to his combat abilities.
Kanjuro had eaten the Brush-Brush Fruit, allowing him to bring anything he drew to life—provided he drew it with a brush. That giant tool was his primary weapon.
Ryuma then shifted his gaze to the man standing next to Kanjuro.
It was Kyoshiro!
Tall, with a pompadour haircut, wearing a straw hat, and holding a samurai sword, Kyoshiro looked like a stone-cold swordsman. He was effectively Orochi's personal bodyguard.
Out of everyone under Orochi, these two were about the only ones who could actually put up a decent fight.
Ryuma let out a mocking laugh. "Tsk tsk... really? Is Orochi that cheap, sending just the two of you to deal with me?"
Before the words had even fully left Ryuma's mouth, Kanjuro proved him wrong in a way that almost made Ryuma's eyes pop out.
With a effortless sweep of his giant brush, Kanjuro casually painted a massive, fierce eagle right out of thin air!
Wait, what the hell?! Ryuma screamed in his head. I clearly remember Kanjuro's drawing skills being absolute garbage! Why is he painting like a master twenty years early?! What kind of training did he go through?!
The difference between Kanjuro's artwork twenty years ago versus twenty years later was night and day.
Ryuma finally realized the system's twisted intentions. No wonder it gave him this mission—the system was up to no good from the start!
"System, analyze Kanjuro's actual combat threat," Ryuma commanded internally.
Ding! Kanjuro: A-Rank Paramecia Fruit user. Master painter. The user himself is easy to kill, but his abilities are tricky to handle. Host, please proceed with caution.
Hearing the system's breakdown, Ryuma kept his eyes glued to the massive bird soaring overhead, feeling a slight chill run down his spine.
However, in the next instant, he snapped himself out of it!
Whatever the case, he was the legendary dragon-slaying swordsman! He had sliced a dragon's throat in the past—what was a oversized bird compared to that?
With a loud shout, Ryuma gripped the black blade Shusui, leaped into the air, and charged straight at the giant eagle!
Kyoshiro watched Ryuma launch himself into mid-air, wiping a cold sweat from his forehead. "This guy is no joke... but he took the bait! Ninjas, turn this grave robber into a pincushion!"
At Kyoshiro's command, the hidden ninjas stepped out without a second's hesitation, hurling a barrage of sharp, razor-edged shuriken straight at Ryuma!
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Ryuma's mouth. "If you think this is enough to hurt me, you're dead wrong."
Any ordinary warrior caught in mid-air like that would become a sitting duck with nowhere to dodge, forced to take the hits. But Ryuma was different.
His pupils narrowed as he pinpointed an incoming shuriken. He tapped the tip of Shusui lightly right at the center of the spinning star—not stopping its momentum, but using it as a tiny stepping point in mid-air, like a dragonfly skimming across water!
Seeing this impossible acrobatics, the attackers froze in shock.
"W-What?! How is that possible?!" Kyoshiro yelled in disbelief.
No wonder Jack couldn't handle this guy—he's a monster! Even a samurai who balances strength and flexibility couldn't pull off a move like that!
While Ryuma was technically a reincarnated soul in this body, he also inherited the muscle memory and instincts of the original Sword God. He wasn't even using Observation Haki—his body simply reacted automatically to danger out of pure habit!
Using the shuriken as a brief foothold, Ryuma propelled himself even faster toward the bird in the sky!
The rest of the shuriken sliced harmlessly through the empty air behind him, whistling loudly, but not a single one managed to leave a scratch on his skin.
Locking his eyes on the giant eagle, Ryuma bellowed, "Soul Sever!"
Shusui gleamed with a sharp light. The moment Ryuma closed the distance, he brought his blade down in a flash of lightning, slicing the giant eagle clean in half!
CRACK!
The dead eagle dissipated into a cloud of dark ink and smoke. Descending rapidly through the falling mist was a shadowy figure in a kimono, black blade drawn and pointed straight for the ground below!
Kyoshiro panicked on the spot. He had never encountered a samurai of this level in his entire life!
"Kanjuro! What are you standing there for?! Draw another one, fast!" Kyoshiro screamed.
Kanjuro's mind went completely blank, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "I... I don't know what to draw! Let me think... give me a second...!" he stammered out, his pale face draining of what little color it had, cold sweat dripping down his cheeks like fat raindrops.
Before Kanjuro could even lift his brush, a silver flash sliced through the air!
SWOOSH!
Kanjuro's body was instantly split in two! Blood sprayed across the ruins as his remains hit the dirt.
Ryuma landed quietly, looking down at the bloody mess with a cold, intimidating gaze.
On the outside, he looked like a ruthless, unfeeling demon, but internally, his heart was pounding wildly!
Holy shit... that scared the life out of me! If I missed that shuriken back there, I'd be the one lying in two pieces right now! Ryuma gasped internally, taking a heavy breath.
How did one measure a swordsman's combat power? It came down to sword technique and physical conditioning.
Most swordsmen were glass cannons—high offensive output, but fragile defense. Take one solid hit, and it was game over.
Even though the original Ryuma was absurdly strong with a body built like iron, his current physical shell was practically a skeleton brought back to life. No matter how muscular he used to be, those bones had been resting six feet under for centuries!
He couldn't afford to be careless—one wrong move, and it was lights out.
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