Super Fighting Tokyo.

They are saying what they want to say.

They are thinking about what they crave!

Even if the words are somewhat fragmented, they still need to be spoken, still need to talk freely and dream freely, as if no one else is around!

"No sword!"

Musashi, filled with anticipation, muttered to himself:

"Empty hands—that is, what you people in this world are showing me, what you have already acquired."

"Transform your five limbs into weapons, even when empty-handed."

"The five limbs will not separate."

"..."

Shiramu Cheng was also thinking, "All battles and strength..."

Ultimately, it all points to one result: ending the life of the opponent in front of you.

"If you want to know what true strength is, you must eventually confront this realization."

"—The fluctuation of killing intent."

"Constantly examine yourself, push yourself, face things as your true self, and then ask yourself questions!"

"What else lies beneath that wave of killing intent...?"

"..."

Musashi pursed his lips, unable to hide his anticipation. "The Way of the Sword leads to the Way of No Sword! And then one enters a realm where one knows nothing of what it is..."

"Hmph, I shall go forth on this path!"

"..."

The underground arena reeks of blood, with the teeth and fingernails of fighters mixed in with the sand; it is by no means a good place for idle talk.

However, no one dared to speak up to stop Shiraki Jo and Miyamoto Musashi, who were indulging in wild fantasies and even "going crazy" on the field.

Because everyone felt that it would be extremely impolite to interrupt this moment.

"call……"

The two of them exhaled a long breath of hot air at the same time.

Musashi spoke first: "If swords could be separated from the body, Miyamoto Musashi would not be 'Miyamoto Musashi,' that would be the way of no sword!"

Bai Mucheng followed closely behind, saying, "If we can no longer fight, Bai Mucheng will no longer be 'Bai Mucheng,' which means to question the fluctuations of killing intent."

Musashi said, "The ultimate sword, the ultimate strike—[The Realm of No Sword]."

Shiraki Chengdao: "The ultimate power, the ultimate strike—[The Strike Without Strike]!"

"Humph……"

"Hmph...!"

"Hahahaha!!!"

As they were talking, they both burst into laughter at the same time.

The next moment—

Sa!

The two, who were only a step apart, suddenly focused their gazes, regained their composure, and their auras converged to form each other's shapes, transforming into semi-transparent Musashi and Shiraki.

Musashi's phantom slashes with a sword, while Shiraki's phantom strikes with a clenched fist.

boom!!

Two semi-transparent figures collided violently before everyone's eyes, ultimately exploding into blinding light that dissipated into nothingness.

"..."

When the explosive light dissipated, Shiraki Shō and Miyamoto Musashi remained standing in the same spot, motionless.

"Hum..."

Musashi looked up and laughed, his tiger eyes narrowing with joy. "Shiraki, we are friends."

Then, Musashi changed the subject, "However, nothing is more painful than parting—one should not feel sad because a friend has chosen a different path."

Bai Mucheng nodded. "I've heard of it. It's a famous quote from your book, 'The Lonely Path'."

Musashi was even happier, "Haha, this saying has been passed down too..."

"..."

The atmosphere between the two was excellent.

So—

Shiraki Shō and Miyamoto Musashi spoke in unison, yet their voices intertwined, creating a complex and ambiguous atmosphere, both filled with anticipation and ecstasy.

I want to kill you.

I want to hit you.

Chapter 650 Feeling Ashamed

I want to kill you.

I want to hit you.

The voices of Shiraki Shōwa and Miyamoto Musashi—especially the last two lines—were not actually loud, but they still echoed in this underground arena.

Experts, high-ranking officials, and even ordinary underground fighting enthusiasts...

Everyone heard it clearly—

【The Realm Without a Blade】 and 【The Strike Without a Hit】.

These two seemingly ambiguous words, spoken by Miyamoto Musashi and Shiraki Jo, lingered in everyone's minds.

The audience was shocked, even stunned!

"..."

Upon closer inspection, both players on the field were covered in bruises.

The peerless Miyamoto Musashi had his face covered in blood, with a superficial wound on the outside of his left forearm and a severe wound on the outside of his left upper arm.

The throat suffered severe trauma, with obvious redness and swelling.

There was a horizontal incision on the right arm and a vertical incision on the right leg.

Meanwhile, Bai Mucheng, the "Fighting Spirit," was wrapped in bandages, but his body was already stained with the blood of Hei Muxuanzhai and himself.

The wound on his left cheek, along with a few other lacerations on his body, reopened due to the intense activity he had just engaged in, and patches of bright red blood seeped through the bandages.

There was probably an injury in his mouth as well, and he hadn't cleaned up the blood yet.

"..."

Even so, both Miyamoto Musashi and Shiraki Shō were beaming with joy, their faces radiating happiness.

Their two contrasting faces were enough to make one feel slightly uneasy.

……

……

At the same time, inside the medical room.

[The Fang of Destruction] Kano Awa, already bandaged, is resting in bed, watching the game live on television.

When Shiraki entered the arena and was exchanging words with Musashi, Kano had already sensed something, but couldn't quite place it.

After the two men vented their anger, Gana's memories finally returned.

He remembered the moment at the end of his battle with Shiramu Cheng, when he was struck by an invisible fist and collapsed unconscious.

Bai Mucheng suddenly said, "I still want to fight..."

Gana Aya remembered that Shiraki Cheng back then had a kind of grievance that was about to burst out, and he hoped that he could continue to fight.

"...?!"

Thinking of this, Ganaa couldn't help but clench the bedsheet, her brows furrowed, and she murmured softly:

"That is... the fluctuation of killing intent..."

……

……

On the arena.

"Huh...huh...huh..."

After venting their anger, the two were panting heavily, staring at each other and looking each other up and down at their injuries.

Just then—

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

A series of hurried footsteps approached, growing louder as they drew nearer. It turned out to be the owner of the arena—the old man, Tokugawa Mitsunari.

At this moment, the old man finally snapped out of his astonishment, straightened his serious expression, and stood beside the two of them.

Musashi raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly: "Oh, Tokugawa...?"

Shiramu Cheng also blinked, "Oh dear, old man..."

"That's enough, you two."

Tokugawa spoke, then sighed helplessly, "You're already covered in wounds, so stop fooling around and go get treatment from the doctor."

As he spoke, Tokugawa tilted his head and gestured to the doctors behind him.