Chapter 72 | Reincarnated as a Duke's Son, I Walk the Sword God's Path

The Sword Prison, forge.

“This is the sword I want forged.”

Tyr handed his blueprints to the master smith, Claude Schmidt.

“Hmm?”

Claude was somewhat surprised by Tyr's actions. Although candidates in the Sword Prison could design their own swords, in most cases, very few candidates actually did so.

The reason was simple: the candidates were undoubtedly the strongest swordsmen selected from this generation of House Callis. However, they were only excellent swordsmen, not swordsmiths.

Thus, in the vast majority of cases, the candidates would come to him, briefly state their requirements for the sword, and leave the rest entirely to Claude.

However, Claude did not reject Tyr's design out of hand. Instead, he took the blueprint and examined it very carefully.

“A very novel concept. It can be made.”

Claude's expression was filled with surprise; it was the first time he had ever seen a weapon where two swords were nested together.

What surprised him even more was that Tyr's blueprint was incredibly complete, rather than just a rough concept.

The design on the paper was a child-mother sword. The mother sword was styled after a standard knightly sword, while the child sword was styled after a Chinese sword from Tyr's past life.

For the swordsmanship Tyr had mastered in his past life, a knightly sword was a bit too long. While not unusable, it would feel very awkward, which would undoubtedly affect his performance.

So, when Chief Instructor Ryder reminded them yesterday to come and forge their personal swords, Tyr had thought of the child-mother sword structure.

“Come, pick up those three rods on the table and swing them a few times. I need to determine your physical measurements.”

On the table in the forge, three iron rods of different sizes were laid out.

Tyr picked up the three different iron rods one after another, swinging them in front of Claude and performing a few simple sword techniques.

“That's enough. Come back in a week to collect your sword.”

“Alright.”

As Tyr left the forge, he happened to run into Silas, who was heading inside.

When their eyes met, Silas's expression changed visibly.

“What? Do you still want to challenge me to a spar?”

In truth, ever since Silas had been knocked silly by Tyr's punch seven years ago, he had never looked for trouble with Tyr again.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about reclaiming his pride once his body tempering realm surpassed Tyr's one day.

However, Tyr's cultivation speed was always incredibly fast. In the beginning, Tyr would finish his training and leave while they were all still tempering their bodies in the training field.

But four years ago, when they had just finished their medicinal baths and were heading to the training field, Tyr had already finished his morning training.

This ridiculous speed not only shocked Silas but also left him completely unable to gauge what realm Tyr had reached.

After learning his lesson from those past experiences, neither he, Letitia, nor Barry had dared to show off in front of Tyr again before figuring out his exact strength.

“I will defeat you one day, but not today.”

Although he had already given up on competing with Tyr in his heart, Silas still refused to back down verbally.

A youth's hot-blooded pride, combined with his status as a Grand Duke candidate, would not allow him to say anything so cowardly.

“Alright, I'll be waiting.”

After their brief encounter, Tyr headed toward the dormitory building.

Seven days later.

Tyr arrived at the forge.

“Your sword.”

Seeing Tyr enter, Claude pointed to a sword rack in the forge, where a slightly ornate knightly longsword rested.

Tyr walked forward and picked up the sword.

With a crisp ring, the longsword was drawn, its silver blade gleaming with a cold, silver light.

“A fine sword.”

The light reflecting off the blade shone onto Tyr's face, allowing him to feel a sharp sword qi.

With just a single touch, Tyr could tell that this sword was absolutely top-grade.

“Kid, not a single sword that leaves my shop is subpar,” Claude said with pride upon hearing Tyr's heartfelt praise.

Tyr's thumb slid across the hilt, finding a hidden latch on the guard.

Click.

With a crisp click, a smaller sword was drawn out by Tyr.

The blade was slender and elegant, its edge as white as snow. Unlike the heavy and powerful mother sword, the child sword, modeled after a Chinese sword, was much lighter and more agile.

“From now on, it's yours. Give it a name.”

Tyr looked at the precious sword in his hand and murmured softly, “I'll call you Jinghong.”

After bidding farewell to Claude, Tyr went to the drill grounds.

Tyr drew the child sword and held it behind his back. Closing his eyes, the sword techniques he had learned in his past life flashed continuously through his mind.

At a certain moment, Tyr, standing in the center of the drill grounds, suddenly moved.

Thrusting his sword forward, the sword moves Tyr executed this time were entirely different from any he had ever performed before.

Taiji Sword, Taiyi Beam-Splitting Sword, Bagua Swimming Body Sword, Wudang Sword, Dragon-Style Sword, Shaolin Swordsmanship...

Everything he had once learned began to manifest in his hands one by one.

Over the past seven years, in order to better integrate the swordsmanship of this world, Tyr had tried his best to forget what he had previously learned.

Under the guidance of Instructor Tina, he had relearned swordsmanship from the ground up as a beginner.

To prevent himself from being led astray by his old swordsmanship habits, he had not used his past-life swordsmanship even once over these seven years.

At this moment, holding the familiar sword once again, Tyr unleashed his swordsmanship one style after another, as if venting his pent-up feelings.

Clang!

Following a clear, resonant hum of the sword, Tyr sheathed the blade. A gentle breeze blew past, ruffling his white hair.

“Phew... That felt good.”

Forgetting everything one had previously learned and starting anew was undoubtedly more painful than being a true beginner.

After all, this forgetting was not true amnesia, but rather a forced correction of his sword-handling habits, carving out another path of swordsmanship on top of his existing foundation.

Facing the evening sunset, Tyr stretched.

“I can finally leave this place tomorrow. How nice.”

...

Caslant, a small city within the Grand Duchy of Callis.

Today, a young boy and girl arrived here.

After officially graduating from the Sword Prison, Tyr had originally planned to return to the Marquisate of Lanier.

However, before he could leave, Chief Instructor Ryder stopped him. Traces of Abyss demons had appeared in the small city of Caslant, and he was tasked with handling it.