Honkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 51

Chapter 51: No Retreat

Jingliu found her opening. She dropped her stance, sweeping her wooden blade low in a vicious arc aimed directly at Kagashi’s calf. The air whistled with the sheer force of her swing.

Kagashi simply lowered his own wooden sword. The two training weapons met with a dull, heavy clack, his block perfectly absorbing the kinetic force of her strike.

Using the recoil to her advantage, Jingliu shifted her momentum in a heartbeat. She transitioned from the low sweep into a rising diagonal slash, the tip of her blade biting toward Kagashi’s wrist. Yet, her weapon only carved through empty air as he deftly stepped aside.

She did not pause for a single breath, her eyes tracking his every shift in weight, desperately searching for a genuine weakness.

Even though she knew the openings he presented were intentional, bait meant to test her reflexes, he always managed to resolve her attacks at the very last fraction of a second. He did not rely on brute force to block her strikes. He simply evaded. His movements were incredibly minimal, a slight tilt of his head, a subtle shift of his torso, or a single measured step backward. Each time, the wooden sword grazed past his uniform by a mere hairsbreadth.

More than two minutes bled away in this relentless dance, and Jingliu had yet to touch even the hem of Kagashi’s clothes. Fine beads of sweat gathered on her brow, and her breathing grew ragged and shallow.

The three-minute mark was rapidly approaching. Jingliu was acutely aware of the slipping time. Her eyes flickered with sudden resolve as she deliberately broke her own rhythm. She exposed a glaring opening in her guard, allowing her next thrust to fall half a beat behind schedule.

Kagashi narrowed his eyes. He stepped into her guard, riding the momentum of her delayed strike to seize her wrist.

It was a trap.

Jingliu abruptly released her grip on the hilt. She dropped into a deep crouch, her left hand snapping out to catch the falling sword before it could strike the floor. Reversing her grip, she launched a blindingly fast upward slash. Her target was not his armored body, but the visor of his helmet.

The change in tactics was so sudden and unorthodox that gasps of shock erupted from the surrounding audience. Many of the watching recruits truly believed Kagashi was about to lose his helmet.

Kagashi’s expression remained a placid mask, devoid of any surprise. His empty right hand pressed downward with casual precision. Two fingers snapped out, striking the flat of Jingliu’s ascending blade with devastating accuracy.

A sharp crack echoed across the platform. The webbing of Jingliu’s hand flared with agonizing pain, the violent tremor tearing the wooden sword completely out of her numb grasp.

In that exact same breath, Kagashi’s palm came to rest lightly upon her shoulder. There was no crushing force behind the touch, yet Jingliu froze completely, acutely aware that she had been bested.

“A good trap.”

Lord Kagashi nodded slightly from the sidelines, his voice carrying over the quieted arena. “But letting go of your weapon is far too risky. Against an opponent of equal strength and experience, that gamble easily becomes a fatal weakness.”

The three minutes were up.

Kagashi curved his fingers, making a gentle guiding motion through the air. The wooden sword, which had clattered several paces away, seemed to be caught in an invisible current of wind. It flew off the ground and snapped neatly back into his waiting hand. He reversed the blade and offered the hilt back to Jingliu.

Jingliu accepted the weapon slowly, her eyes wide as if she had just grasped a deep truth about the nature of combat. A fleeting hint of longing crossed her features, only to dissolve into a quiet, heavy sadness a moment later.

Kagashi noticed the shift in her demeanor but chose not to voice his observations. Becoming a soldier of the Cloud Knights was a grueling, unforgiving path. Even if the future Yu Huai had arranged for her lacked the thrill she desired, it would at least offer her a stable, peaceful life away from the slaughter.

The artificial wind above the arena grew restless. The first heavy drop of rain plummeted onto the high platform, blooming into a dark stain on the stone before splashing against Jingliu’s shoulder and dampening her long hair.

“Thank you for your guidance, Guard Kagashi,” she said softly.

“You did well. If you maintain this dedication and find the opportunity in the future, keep up the good work.”

Kagashi gave her a final nod of acknowledgment, watching in silence as she descended the steps and left the stage. He then tapped his communication device, contacting the Earth-Balance Commission to request that the local simulated climate be adjusted back to clear skies.

The challenge tournament continued with renewed fervor. Inspired by Jingliu’s performance, more students stepped up, adopting defensive and analytical approaches. By the end of the two-day event, a handful of exceptional young talents emerged, proving capable of defeating standard Cloud Knights through sheer personal skill and combat experience.

Out of all the registered participants, fifteen individuals managed to land a strike on the helmets of the Cloud Knight Vanguard. Among those fifteen, three had successfully defeated multiple Valiant Guards, a remarkable achievement that easily satisfied the recruitment quotas of the various military departments.

This year’s Cloud Knights military camp tour concluded as a resounding success. However, the celebratory atmosphere was short-lived. Just two days after the final students were sent home, the expeditionary force dispatched to purge the surrounding sectors returned to the ship.

They were victorious, but every expedition carried a bloody price. Comrades were left behind, their bodies forever lost to the cold void of the battlefield. The only comfort the survivors could offer the fallen was the highest form of respect known to the Xianzhou: a tribute paid in the severed heads of the Abominations.

Before the weary soldiers could even wash the grime from their armor, grim new intelligence arrived at the command center.

Based on the current navigational trajectory of the Star Skiff, both the Divination Commission and the Sky-Faring Commission had reached the exact same, terrifying conclusion. In approximately half a year, the Cangcheng would sail directly into a star system completely overrun by Abominations of Abundance.

Due to the extreme light-years separating them from the target zone, the scrying matrices could not provide more detailed tactical intelligence.

Representatives from the Divination Commission immediately proposed altering the ship’s course to avoid the impending slaughter. However, this suggestion birthed an entirely different catastrophe.

The vast majority of interstellar travel across the galaxy, including the massive trade fleets of the Interstellar Peace Corporation, relied entirely on the Silver Rails forged by the Trailblaze to guarantee safe passage. Rashly steering a vessel the size of a planet into uncharted space without established navigation records would invite absolute disaster, overwhelming the already exhausted staff of the Sky-Faring Commission.

handling the dark sea required accounting for uncharted planetary gravity wells, the potential existence of volatile red giants, and the ever-present threat of quantum entanglement fields or cosmic imaginary storms. Encountering any of these anomalies without the protection of the Silver Rails would easily result in the destruction of the ship and the loss of billions of lives.

If the Cangcheng chose the safest possible detour to bypass the Abomination encirclement, the massive vessel would be forced to backtrack, adding at least a full year to their voyage. This massive delay would result in catastrophic losses of time, energy, and resources.

For an interstellar giant ship carrying hundreds of billions of citizens, such a delay would shatter commercial supply chains, destabilize the social economy, and cause widespread panic. Weighing these apocalyptic risks, the Sky-Faring Commission strongly advised against changing the course.

Most of the merchant guilds responsible for the Xianzhou’s foreign trade were directly affiliated with the Sky-Faring Commission. A route change of this magnitude would utterly destroy the livelihoods of countless ordinary people.

The department heads were paralyzed by the sheer weight of the crisis, but General Teng Xiao bore the heaviest burden of all. A decision that dictated the fate of an entire Xianzhou ship could not be made by the General alone. It required the unanimous deliberation of the highest governing body.

Understanding the gravity of the impending war, Teng Xiao solemnly ordered the convocation of the Six Charioteers Council.

The Six Charioteers Council was the absolute authority of the ship, composed of the Cloud Knights General and the Master Diviner, Master Artisan, Master of the Sky-Faring Commission, Master of the Alchemy Commission, and the Earth-Balance Commission. It was a gathering reserved only for events that threatened the very survival of the Xianzhou.

Once the heavy doors of the council hall sealed shut, no one was permitted to disturb them.

Kagashi, along with the other Valiant Guards and military strategists, withdrew to the outer corridors to stand watch.

“What a mess,” Mo Tingquan muttered, leaning against the cold metal wall. “On one side, we have a monster like Shuhu watching us from the shadows, waiting to strike. On the other, an endless tide of Abominations blocking our path. It makes my head spin.”

“It is hard to imagine how much worse the Xianzhou Alliance’s situation would be today if the Reignbow Arbiter were not out there, relentlessly hunting those beasts down across the stars,” another guard replied softly.

“Do you guys actually think the Council will vote to change the route?”

The Cloud Knight Vanguard shifted uncomfortably in the tense silence of the corridor, unable to stop themselves from debating the ship’s fate.

“Changing the route would ruin us,” Mo Tingquan argued, crossing his arms. “I have an old friend who handles foreign trade for a merchant guild under the Sky-Faring Commission. Their entire cargo turnover relies on a strict seven-system-month cycle. If we detour for a year, the entire economy collapses.”

“Well, who told our Cangcheng to be the most commercially prosperous out of all the Xianzhou ships?”

“Damn those Abominations, and damn the Emanators of Abundance. They have been hounding us for thousands of years without a single moment of rest.”

“I just want to drag Shuhu out into the light and cut its head off,” a younger guard hissed, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “Without an Emanator to rally the hordes, those mindless Abominations would be nothing more than target practice.”

“Kill Shuhu? You have a wild imagination,” Mo Tingquan scoffed bitterly. “It would probably take the Marshal stepping onto the battlefield to even have a fraction of a chance at putting that thing down permanently.”

“But the Marshal has to remain stationed on the Luofu to guard against Shuhu launching a feint attack on the Ambrosial Arbor. She cannot easily join the expeditionary forces, not unless Shuhu is stupid enough to walk right up to her.”

“Exactly. It is unrealistic. General Teng Xiao has already driven Shuhu back twice. The most infuriating thing about that creature is that it is nearly impossible to pin down and truly kill. Why would it ever risk seeking out the Marshal?”

Mo Tingquan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Changing the route involves too many moving parts. The Council will likely vote against it. What do you think, Guard Kagashi?”

The surrounding soldiers fell silent, turning their attention to the veteran standing quietly by the massive archway.

Kagashi looked at the young men, his expression completely calm, devoid of the anxiety that plagued the rest of the corridor. He did not offer them a long, complicated tactical analysis.

“Overthinking is useless,” Kagashi said, his voice steady and grounding. “Strengthen your training. Keep your blades sharp, and be prepared to march into a bloody battle at a moment’s notice.”

He turned his gaze toward the sealed doors of the council chamber. “Behind us is our home. We have no retreat.”