The Thousand Mask Warrior

The Poet Baka

"They called me the poet Baka because I scratched the wounds on the bodies of my victims like writing poetry" the voice of the raucous and old man who had unmasked his father betrayed his martial skills.

That weak and low voice was the opposite of his immune science.

In addition, the grandfather looks very high-hearted and self-love where he enjoys these moments, where the guards look surprised at his ability.

"For decades I have traveled throughout the archipelago, gaining knowledge, developing and using it to fight and defeat many warriors. So before you die at my hands, I want you to remember well the title of the swordsman who killed you, the Poet Baka," even this grandfather again repeated his title of shortness with a satisfied face clearly drawn.

Jaka Pasirluhur looked towards his injured comrades. He lifted his swig back, "You think I care, old man. We will chop you all out no matter what false science you master," he said.

Grandpa was back to chuckling. He smacked his chest with his free hand, while his hand that held the bar was raised upwards. His chin also lifted up as he said, "Your weapons will no one be able to penetrate this body!"

The wounded guards were still able to fight well. The wounds infused into their bodies were indeed just for playfulness, making a special satisfaction for the pride and self-love of this swordsman grandfather.

Therefore, all the spears were re-held. Some of the guards even at once passed a machete hanging from their waists.

"Come, come, let's all. Please jajal back my silat moves. However, I do not promise to give you a chance to touch my body" the old warrior replied casually.

The guards were insulted. They were played by a powerful old warrior. The wounds on their bodies were a form of humiliation, not to mention the grandfather joking that even though he was clearly immune, he would still play tricks so as not to be exposed to the attacks of their sharp weapons.

One guard attacked first by throwing his toss as a javelin.

The spear was repelled with a stick, but it turned out that there was one more spear that shot towards the grandfather, so he repressed the spear attack.

The two bodyguards who had already unleashed their spears charged forward with unsheathed cleaver.

Jaka Pasirluhur himself followed behind the two attackers.

The swordsman's grandfather retreated then twisted from one stab, then intended to stab the other attacker who had not had time to swing his machete.

Jaka Pasirluhur saw this movement so that he advanced quickly, hooking the curved end of his swoop to the arm of the Poet Baka who grasped the bar.

Seeing the enemy's hands locked, the two attackers immediately slashed his machete into the grandfather's body.

The old fighter was forced to release his grip on the crib and use both hands to hold back the machete.

PRAK!

PRAK!

As expected, two blades seemed to hit the rock. Jaka Pasirluhur also became a witness earlier that his scratches did not leave any traces of injury to the grandfather's wrist even though I missed.

The rest of the four Almira guards came forward attacking in two. Their long spears poked at the straddling grandfather with both hands.

Though a little more there must be one or two spear punctures that scratched the skin of the enemy. But with incredible agility for his age, the Poet Baka is still playing around with his attackers.

Unsatisfied with the spear thrust that did not really hit the target, one attacker threw his spear that can be pushed aside with not so difficult.

He then pulled out a Mataram-style sabet sword. The sword that was slightly longer than a machete was short-handled with a finger protector that was connected with a chain up to the base of the lower handle.

He attacked ferociously even though his thighs and shoulders had been injured by the opponent.

Although a little staggering, his attack could not be underestimated at all. Two sabetans escaped, but with a slight twist of his arm, he managed to smash the target's waist.

Grandpa was jerked. Not waiting for a long time, Jaka Pasirluhur saw this opportunity and read off the head of the grandfather. The rest of the bodyguards also managed to stab the chest and stomach of the grandfather who had been hit by the attack.

The poet Baka was pushed back and lost his balance. The seven bodyguards of Almira hunted the grandfather like an animal. They stab, read, snatch his body from all sides. I don't know how many attacks came in. Under ordinary circumstances, anyone who should be treated like this would definitely be crushed to nothing.

"Enough!" shouted the grandfather.

He held the sabet sword that targeted his headstone by pinning it on both palms, twisting it quickly so that it escaped from the attacker's hand. In one flash move, he instantly locked the attacker's hand and 'PRACT!', breaking it.

The rest retreated immediately because the grandfather attacked like the wind of Jesus. Unfortunately, their fate was not good enough either. All of them felt a loud thump in the chest, face and nape so that the collapse could not be held.

Not a few who spit blood or absolutely can not wake up because of the pain sent to the brain.

The poet Baka stood slightly bent over age, but no visible wounds of any kind were scratched on his body while his long sleeves were torn apart beyond help.

He walked slowly picking up his barn that was thrown somewhere.

"It's been quite a fool. You guys have been lucky to actually land your weapons, my body has even been too excessive to get that advantage. Now you can die peacefully because you have tasted the moves of the Poet Baka."

Just a moment after he spoke, the grandfather darted like a snake that frowned. The sharp blade of the steed slashed in through the bottom of the chin until it was sticking out through the eyeballs of a guard who had attacked him with the sabet sword of Mataram.

The grandfather pulled out the deer, spitting blood from the chin of the bodyguard who had become the corpse. One more man died when my grandfather's gold-plated horse tore his hull and slapped his neck. He still had time to hold his stomach and neck as if he could stop the blood spurting out, before he fell dead.

Jaka Pasirluhur felt a stinging pain invade his entire body. He saw the piece of his left hand, with all five of his fingers intact, fall onto the grassy ground. Blood spurted from the part of his arm that was cut off.

The grandfather attacked with a speed that was difficult to reason. Know-how he was in front of Jaka Pasirluhur and was about to read his head. Without a second thought, in accordance with his sensitivity as a swordsman, Jaka Pairluhur resisted the attack with his left hand. Then break his hand to the wrist.

Jaka Pasiluhur pening amazing. He fell to his knees holding his dead-end hand. The grandfather stood in front of him, "Still ngeyel apparently this boy. Sacrificing your hands won't save your life!" said the grandfather.

He lifted his kujang and ready to push the tip to the headstone of Jaka Pasirluhur.

BUGS!

Jaka Pasirlihur still had time to see two shadowy figures darting against the grandfather who was not aware.

The old body was pushed hard as far as three spears struck a tree.

BRACKET!

Even from his voice felt a crack occur on the tree trunk due to the hardness of the impulse.

My grandfather was released again, but as usual, the grandfather was not hurt in the slightest.

"Bang*sat! Who would dare to support the Poet Baka. You wanna go find your dead, huh? I'll make you guys ...."

The grandfather's voice turned into a giggling sound as a trident-eyed spear stuck into his neck. Yeah, that sharp weapon hurt him. Thick blood flowed from the gaping wound on his neck.

Even stranger, suddenly the grandfather's pair of eyes widened when he saw another person attacking him coming slowly closer. His body was full of figures and he grasped a strange sword. The blade curves forward like a bird's beak.

BRET! SLEPT UP!

The figure slashed the grandfather's head until it completely broke with its strange sword, and the grandfather was completely dead.

***

Jaka Pasirluhur felt his gaze twitching. Some of his fellow bodyguards tore his shirt off and tied it to his truncated arm to stop the blood flow. However he could still see the two figures standing in front of them.

"Grandfather's name was Mandura. He is one of the twin warriors with an immune knowledge known as the Poet Baka. Both master the science of Rawarontek intermediate level. Although they were immune, their heads could be beheaded. Therein lies their weakness" said the figure of the man holding a long-edged trident spear.

The other figure, the man with a tattoo adorning his entire body continued his colleague's explanation. And this surprised all, "The other flock was on the deck of the ship with your master Nyai's husband, Jayaseta, to kill him."

The guards said nothing.

"These two old warriors are indeed tasked with eliminating Jayaseta and his wife, Nyai you, Almira. But we managed to kill one of the twin warriors in time, before he defeated you and proceeded to kill your Nyai" the male continued.

"We will continue to finish the job. We will chase the rest of the Hell Earth Needle group and kill them. Come home soon, mumble the dead and treat your comrades. We believe Jayaseta can overcome his twin grandfather in the middle of the sea there. We had been with him in the ocean, so we wouldn't worry too much, "this time the trident-spaced swordsman spoke.

They turned around and were ready to run when one of the guards asked, "Who's your name?"

"If you really want to know, I'm Katilapan and he's Narendra" said the man without turning his face.