While My Mage Wife Grinds, I Power Up Idly
Chapter 116: Not Half as Good as Her

Chapter 116: Chapter 116: Not Half as Good as Her

"Heh heh hoho... hahahaha..."

Within the ever-thickening blood mist, the Greater Demon Shava’s body began to swell, and the simple cloth on his frame tore apart in an instant.

He transformed from a goat-headed, human-bodied demon into a giant akin to the Holy Shield Knight, his body rippling with dragon-like muscles.

In this form, his power skyrocketed, reaching levels even higher than before.

"Come, human—even if you are not my intended target."

With a crazed roar, Shava charged at the Sword King. Although his size had greatly increased, his speed hadn’t slowed one bit nor had his agility dulled.

On the contrary, in this hulking form, both his strength and speed were dramatically enhanced.

A single airborne lunge alone generated a sonic boom.

There was an explosion in the sky, and when the onlookers on the ground looked up, they saw the Sword King, sword still in hand, being blasted away like a shooting star toward the distant horizon.

That strike must have propelled him some ten miles away!

The Greater Demon Shava at this moment was truly terrifying!

But the Sword King was not one to back down.

As the Royal Family’s enforcer, failure meant more than just lost honor—it invited punishment.

His own defeat would be regrettable, but the Royal Family’s punishment was far more dreadful.

The Sword King couldn’t afford to slack off, so he summoned all his strength.

He hurled his iridescent longsword high into the air; the accumulated clouds parted instantly, and a rainbow bridge descended from the sky.

One end of the rainbow connected to him, the other stretched over the battlefield.

He only needed to step onto the rainbow bridge—then, like a streak of light, he would glide across it and, in an instant, return to the battlefield.

"Demon, you’ve pissed me off."

The Sword King’s swordsmanship was nothing short of miraculous, and even on his delicately handsome face, there flickered a hint of ferocity.

Shava paid no mind to such details. After devouring his two subordinates, he’d slipped into a kind of madness.

Instinctively, he lunged at the Sword King once more.

This time, the Sword King shifted tactics. He abandoned cautious blocks and chose to meet Shava head-on.

His Magical Essence exploded within him, the iridescent longsword in his hand swelling into a massive blade of light that he swung straight at Shava.

"Shii—"

"Boom—"

The gigantic rainbow sword bit into Shava’s shoulder, carving at least a foot-deep wound; Shava’s claw swipe landed solidly on the Sword King’s shoulder in return.

Both warriors staggered back hundreds of meters.

On Shava’s shoulder, the trapezius muscle lay severed, blood gushing like a river. But he was a Demon, not a mortal—and Demons always had their twisted tricks. He thrust out a long, powerful tongue and licked his own blood. To the naked eye, the wound sealed and scabbed over before his tongue even retracted.

"Ke ke ke, human—do you really think you’ve won?"

"Monster..."

The Sword King’s gaze was grim. He was only human and lacked a Demon’s regenerative might; once wounded, he had no choice but to endure it. Unless he possessed Healing skills himself—or had a powerful Monk ally by his side. He did bring Monk reinforcements, but they’d all been intercepted by a mysterious cultist wielding a massive scythe.

"Monster! Let’s see how many times you can heal!" the Sword King declared, no longer hesitating. Brandishing his great sword, he struck out, "Let’s see if you can truly recover every time!"

Suddenly, the Sword King’s sword aura erupted. In midair, he became a whirlwind of blades, hurtling toward the Greater Demon Shava.

At the sight, Shava made no move to retreat. Even though that storm of blades was a meat-grinder incarnate, he felt not an ounce of fear.

"Ke ke ke!"

"I’ve tangled with a Nun before—you’re nothing but sand compared to her!"

The Demon’s taunt struck a chord in the Sword King’s heart. He likely knew exactly which Nun they meant.

To go toe-to-toe with a Demon of Shava’s caliber, it had to be one of the Twelve Demon-Hunting Nuns—Holy Cultivator Guild’s ace warriors. The Royal Family had long used their prowess as the benchmark to keep their own forces in line.

As an enforcer for the Royal Family, the Sword King had endured jibes about "other people’s Nuns," "Cultivator Guild’s heavies," "not half as good as those twelve women," and more.

Now, even a mere Demon belittled him the same way, and it stung.

He swung his mighty sword faster, more ferociously than ever.

Shava’s body was already marred with countless gashes—his hands had even lost all ten fingers—yet both combatants pressed on, not a hint of withdrawal in either one.

The corresponding blows from the Greater Demon Shava all landed squarely on the Sword King’s body. Each heavy punch exploded against his flesh like a bomb detonation—agonizingly painful and shredding the fabric of his garments.

These weren’t mere mortal clothes but an Arcane Device crafted from special materials, designed to accelerate the absorption and circulation of Magical Essence. It could also expend Magical Essence to negate part of incoming damage.

By itself, this outfit was worth at least one million Atras coins.

But now was clearly no time to worry about the cost.

As the Greater Demon Shava traded wound for wound, the damage-mitigating garments were rapidly collapsing.

Once the outfit was completely destroyed, he wouldn’t be able to take another one of Shava’s strikes head-on.

"Damn beast—does he even have the intellect to see through this tactic?" the Sword King thought in astonishment.

In his career, he had encountered Demons before, but they’d all been of low intelligence—relying on demonic traits and unique powers to do mischief. Once their behavior patterns were seen through, they were easy to kill.

But the Greater Demon Shava he faced today was as cunning as any clever human.

"This fellow... is no ordinary Greater Demon."

Amid his attacks, the Sword King silently warned himself not to grow complacent.

"Boom! Boom! Boom—!"

After another round of exchanges, his garments were utterly shredded. He immediately withdrew, putting distance between himself and Shava.

The haughty Sword King now stood in tatters—his appearance more ragged than the poorest beggar’s.

However, the Greater Demon Shava had not fared much better.

Shava’s once-majestic form was now riddled with gruesome wounds, and both his arms had been severed down to the elbows, leaving only short stumps.

"Heh—Demon, how about now?" the Sword King taunted.

Shava, seemingly unfazed as if those lost arms weren’t his own, replied in manic glee, "Now? You mean ’compared to that Nun’? Oh... let me think. If you’d just remove the little rodent dangling between your legs, maybe you’d stand a chance of matching her!"

Shava’s voice echoed across the battlefield, even many on the ground could hear.

Seeing this, the Sword King’s face turned beet-red.

He tore away the shredded remnants of his attire, gripped his radiant greatsword before him, and said in a low voice, "As expected of a base Demon—your only language is filth and evil."

"Ke ke ke," the Greater Demon Shava bared his neat rows of teeth, then slyly began to stall for time. His body would heal soon enough, but the Sword King’s Arcane Device could not be restored. "Human, let’s make a wager—can your army break through the blockade and come to your aid?"

"Aid? I alone can slay you!"

The Sword King’s retort was as sharp as ever, yet he couldn’t help glancing down at the battlefield below.

...

On the ground.

After Ashu’s single slash challenged the Imperial Capital troops to battle, the soldiers who had evaded it immediately closed in to surround him.

He activated his Reaper’s Eye, seeing the entire formation with perfect clarity.

"Focus on the healers first"—that was the consensus among every seasoned transmigrator.

So he first soared into the air, causing the first wave of charging Knights to lose their target, then plummeted from above, striking the rear of the army.

The units clad in white cloaks were the Monk healers.

No matter how they hid or disguised themselves, they couldn’t escape the Reaper’s Eye’s scrutiny of life.

"One!"

Like an eagle from the heavens, Ashu’s black shadow streaked across, leaving a Death mark on one Monk. Black mist immediately spread from the wound, creeping across his body.

The other Monks, seeing this, rushed to perform Purification on their comrade.

Having scored a hit, Ashu refused to linger. He shot back into the sky. Only then did the ground archers react, unleashing a torrent of arrows skyward in covering fire.

Faced with the dense arrow rain, Ashu could do nothing but swing his ten-meter scythe repeatedly, carving arcs of black crescent blades in its defense.

Then, like a hawk swooping once more, he struck another Monk.

After a few such cycles, all the Monks began to panic, their formation breaking as the black mist spread.

Their Purification Magic might suppress the mist to some degree, but once every individual bore Death marks, who could heal whom?

Unless there were someone self-sacrificial—willing to die for others—a true "super saint," who would waste their life purifying their teammates?

Clearly, there was no such saint among this group.

They frantically used Purification on themselves, but one person’s Purification could not contain Ashu’s force of Death.

Now that Ashu had activated Reaper’s Resolve mode, his strength soared to mid–Grand Archmage level. This army had only ten Grand Archmages in total—and none of those were Monks. None matched his level, so their individual Purification Magic was essentially useless against the black mist.

As the black mist spread, the only fate awaiting this healing squad was Death.

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