Iori loved wuxia and xianxia type novels. The detailed power system. The good, the bad. The god and the trash. But there was one thing he loved the most out of these genres.
The good old fashion cultivator stand off. Two or more powerhouses crossing paths and just knowing that only one of them would be leaving that confrontation. It didn't matter if it was a rogue cultivator facing off against a sect member for resources, a Demonic cultivator being chased by teams of the Orthodoxy.
Readers just loved conflict and he was no different. Hell, he had even prepared a bunch of stereotypical lines to read out in cases just like this.
"My name is Yamato Iori." He took a play from his opponent and leisurely walked across the lake. It wouldn't do to not answer such a subtle provocation. "Most commonly known as The Heavenly Demon."
His long black seem to caught a breeze and blew carelessly, blue eyes looking down at the world with obvious amusement. This would definitely be a chance to stretch out his limbs, while sparring with Yasaka was somewhat stimulating actually fighting to maim or death was entirely different.
'Nekomata, so obviously good at Senjutsu and Youjutsu.' Iori analyzed his opponent before him, taking note of anything that could shed some light,' Possible melee fighter, judging from those scars and that blade.'
But like all people in this era it seemed, this man also hadn't cleared out any of his Divine Organs which almost instantly made him lose all interest in the man. Where was the fun in disabling an opponent without ever touching them? If he were categorize himself in similar terms to those cultivation novels, then Iori would be a Body Cultivator. Not just some pansy wizard. He only really felt alive while pummeling someone using his body alone.
'I just won't use it.'
He thought that was a good enough handicap to at least get his blood going. Restricting the usage of his own advanced techniques and overall suppression sounded like a good enough idea.
As the two warriors met in the middle of the lake, it set off a rather humorous image. Sota stood tall and strong, looking more like a bear than a cat here. While Iori looked like some kind of poor schmuck that had no business being there.
"Originally," Sota started," I was just here to make sure no outsiders interfered and to assess your abilities. Everything would've been fine if you hadn't attacked my clan members. But you attacked my eldest son, ruthlessly at that. With your mastery of Touki, he was no threat to you. That is something I can never forgive. I will have to pay a price to appease Yasaka-sama and the Clan, but it'll be more than worth it to cut you down."
'YES!' Iori cheered behind bemused eyes,' Be unreasonable! Overbearing! The old hypocritical elder troupe! Are you going to ask to me kowtow three times and cripple my cultivation next?!'
"Learn mercy in your next time."
With that, the Nekomata tensed his shoulders and smoothly drew out the weapon from the oak sheathe. As the sunlight sparkled off it's refined edge, kanji was etched directly into its' silver surface. His large hands gripped at the tightly bound hilt with both hands, the blade seeming to disappear from sight as he stood on guard.
Iori could practically taste the energy that came from the blade. This was no random magic item no. This weapon had history. It had slain a multitude of foes and had brought its' wielder through many battles. This katana had been bloodied.
Now he didn't have a real fancy weapon to carry around as some kind of symbol of his power. While his beast of a bow was his baby, he had to admit it was a pain in the ass to carry around all the time. It wasn't heavy per-say, more cumbersome in fact. But that didn't mean he was without options.
With a flick of his fingers, that make shit fishing pole came flying across the lake. Like an arrow in flight, it charged headfirst at the immortal with near blinding movements. Catching it delicately, he appreciated it's completely average looks. It didn't seem grand or profound. Nor did it hold some ancient, secret, forbidden heavenly secrets. It was just a stick. Something he picked up from nearby and attached a bit of string too.
'But this should be more than enough.' He nodded, inwardly giddy at the upcoming fight. This was one his favorite troupes, using unconventional weapons to absolutely spit upon his enemy's path. Oh, you found some ancient tome calling itself the Chaotic Primordial Thunder All Element Body? It allows you to control all elemental forms and defy the heavens while appreciating the benefits of it's protection? And it also allows you to steal cultivation from others?
That's nice. Here's a stick.
"Is your arrogance so blinding?" Sota snarled and he could see the Yokai's muscles tensed under his fury," Then let your grandfather, Nakamura Sota, show you the error of your ways!"
And with that, the swordsman blurred out of sight. The ambient Ki was sucked up in an instant and strange knots began to appear in the air. It was as though the environment itself had paused in time. Space wavered in place before a glinting blade poked itself back into reality.
'Spatial techniques?' Iori thought as the sharp piece of metal sped it's way forward,' Huh. Didn't think those were still around. Guess I underestimated Modern Senjutsu.'
The way the blade seem to move autonomously would've sent most people to specially padded cells, it just looked wrong. It was like the blade had exited out of a different space observable or understandable by the feeble mortal mind. Like that mere action had shattered any conventions and progress in the scientific field.
Sure there were theories but actually see something that shouldn't exist in reality was something else. If that wasn't enough, the man himself came barreling out 'somewhere'. Sending out a ripple through space itself. Like he had stepped out of a pond and not the fabric of the universe itself.
A downright triumphant grin stretched across his face. Yellow eyes glowing in expectation and maw slathering at the idea of adding such a pristine name to his list of defeated foes. Maybe with this battle, it would jump start his clan's growth and allow them to take their rightful place on the council itself.
With a mere, contemptuous flick of the wrist, the Ki infused stick came soaring to it's master's defense. The air seeming to whistle and pop under the mere force itself, making his black fur to stand on in. Every cell in his body screamed at him not to get hit by such a blow, knowing full well how useless his own Touki would be against a mere branch. But just as he was prepared to leap back into space and try again later, something unimaginable and simply unlucky happened.
The whistling branch missed. It just barely grazed across the piercing blade before going wide. His eyes widen slight at the sight before smile viciously.
"It's fate!" The man bellowed heartedly," It's the heavens itself blessing me! Not even the streams of fate could stand to witness your arrogance today!"