Roland, acting as the referee, widened his eyes slightly. What was this?

  Kenley deflected Rogue's sword with a single strike and took a bold step forward, shouting sternly,"Upward Slash, First Stage!"

  "What?" The crowd was taken aback upon hearing Kenley's words.

  With a loud clang, Kenley's sword struck Rogue's chest plate, sending out a burst of red sparks! The sheer force of the impact instantly threw Rogue off balance.

  "Upward Slash, Second Stage!"

  Kenley ignored the astonished gazes of the spectators and swiftly followed up with a fierce upward cut using both hands. Sparks erupted again as he struck from below, giving Rogue no time to react—another hit landed!

  Bang!

  Before anyone could react, Kenley's sword strikes continued at lightning speed. Rogue, still struggling to regain his footing, had no chance to counterattack! He could do nothing but endure Kenley's relentless assault, being forced further and further back with each blow.

  "Upward Slash, Third Stage!"

  The entire audience held their breath. Wasn't this the same move Rogue had just used? How did Kenley know it? He wasn't a knight who had trained in the practice grounds—there was no way he should have been familiar with Rogue's techniques.

  As the third stage concluded, Kenley's movements were identical to Rogue's own technique. Rogue's head was spinning, his disoriented body no longer obeying his will.

  But he knew this set of three slashes well. If he were in Kenley's position, the next move would be—yes, the kick!

  As expected! The kick came! Kenley had memorized the sequence without a single mistake! The reason for the kick was to ensure a seamless transition between attacks. It served three purposes:

  To close the gap with a retreating opponent.To keep the enemy off balance.To apply a weakening effect, making it harder for the enemy to defend.

  Kenley delivered a cold, precise kick to Rogue's chest. With a muffled thud, Rogue staggered back a step—but Kenley's footwork followed closely behind.

  "Sweeping Strike!"

  This was the second sequence in the chain, a continuation attack after the kick. However, Kenley did not aim for a lethal spot. Instead, he swung his sword directly at Rogue's weapon.

  "No!"

  Rogue panicked and tightened his grip on his sword, trying to resist the violent force threatening to knock it away.

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  Kenley, however, scoffed and gave him no chance to hold on.

  "Cleave!"

  Since Rogue's sword was already at an awkward angle, Kenley did not hesitate—he struck down with full force! The powerful impact sent a numbing pain through Rogue's hands, making his grip falter.

  A violent trembling overtook his arms. In the next instant, Rogue's sword was sent flying from his grasp!

  With a sharp clang, the weapon spun through the air before plunging deep into the ground of the training field.

  Kenley lifted his sword to Rogue's throat."You lost."

  "Second round—Kenley wins!" Roland immediately announced in a loud voice.

  The training grounds fell silent.

  The previous doubts, mockery, and laughter vanished, replaced by looks of sheer disbelief.

  The tension in the air was so thick that the sound of breathing was audible.

  Rogue's eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what had just happened. A moment ago, he had been defeated—by his own technique! And he had lost so utterly that every strike landed with perfect precision!

  Not only had Kenley flawlessly avoided fatal points, but he had also used the continuation moves to disarm Rogue with pinpoint accuracy. This was beyond mere skill—such mastery required exceptional insight.

  Rogue knew that only his close comrades had seen his sword techniques before. He had never revealed them to an outsider.

  Which meant… Kenley had learned it all on the spot, just by watching?!

  These techniques might have seemed simple, but Rogue had painstakingly refined them over an entire year! They had been honed through countless battles, carefully adjusted under the guidance of Sword Saint Roland, until they reached perfection.

  Even if someone saw the moves, they wouldn't be able to grasp their essence just by mimicking them.

  "You… How did you do that?"

  Rogue stared at Kenley, his voice trembling slightly.

  Kenley responded coolly,"A technique like that—one look is enough to learn it, isn't it?"

  This was Kenley's strategy: let the opponent win the first round. It lured them into complacency while allowing Kenley to analyze their combat style, habits, and skill patterns. This kind of strategy was called reverse tactical countering, and Kenley had mastered it to perfection.

  Beating Kenley was no easy task.

  "This… This is impossible!"

  Rogue's confidence was shaken to the core. Was this the difference in natural talent? He refused to believe it!

  "I won't accept this! I demand another match!"

  One year—an entire year! Rogue had trained tirelessly to perfect this technique. He had honed it to an unparalleled level of proficiency.

  Yet, Kenley had learned it in a single exchange and executed it even more smoothly than Rogue himself. How could he accept such a reality?

  "Lord Roland, I request another round!"

  Roland sighed softly. She knew—Rogue had already lost. Even without a third match, she could see the outcome.

  The gap in talent was simply too vast. Same age, yet different comprehension abilities.

  From Roland's perspective, Kenley had never used the three-strike technique before today.

  As a master swordsman herself, she understood the profound intricacies behind Kenley's execution. He had not only memorized Rogue's technique in the first match but had even refined its weaknesses during the second. His execution was sharper and more seamless than Rogue's own.

  Roland knew how much effort Rogue had poured into perfecting this skill over a year. His dedication and perseverance were admirable. But when someone with superior talent wielded the same technique against him, his sword heart—his confidence—was shattered.

  Once the sword heart was damaged, winning again would be difficult…

  However, perhaps this defeat was a lesson Rogue needed. It would show him that there were always stronger opponents in the world. This battle might change him, forcing him to grow beyond his limits.

  "But Rogue, are you alright?" Roland glanced at the three marks left on Rogue's chest plate, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

  "I'm fine, Lord Roland! I can still fight!"

  Though Rogue's pupils trembled slightly, his voice remained firm. Outwardly, he had yet to surrender—but Roland could already see the doubt in his heart.