When night deepened, Satsuki finally walked slowly back into Kaede Village.
At this moment, she held in her hand a sphere of illusory light—the core fragment of the Tree of Ages' spirit.
As she rapidly used her authority to record the components that constituted this consciousness itself, she also kept watch over the changes in the [Karma] entwined around Kikyo and Onigumo.
"It seems the Yin–Yang Release within Onigumo's body will not be needed for the time being."
With a flick of her palm, Satsuki uploaded the fully recorded sphere of light through a passage within her sleeve into the Giant Tenseigan. By this method, her subordinates in the world of shinobi could verify the process by which such a consciousness entity had formed.
As the leader of a faction, Satsuki no longer needed to personally handle every matter. In most situations, she merely needed to propose a direction and provide a template. The remaining tasks could be distributed through the Giant Tenseigan to her subordinates.
At this hour, most of the villagers had already retired for the night. They lived by strict daily routines. The dangerous environment and lack of lighting limited this small society from developing any rich or varied forms of entertainment.
Before long, Satsuki arrived at the room where Kikyo was staying.
As she lifted the curtain, a mixed stench of blood and medicinal herbs rushed toward her. Though her expression did not change, she instinctively deployed a purification barrier.
The faint fluctuation of spiritual power stirred Kikyo from her seated meditation upon the cushion. She turned her head, a trace of weariness on her face, yet still asked with concern, "Satsuki-sama, has the matter been resolved?"
"It has…"
As she spoke, Satsuki looked toward Onigumo, who lay half-dead and had once again fainted from the agony.
"It seems this man's life is stubborn. To endure such injuries and still cling to life… Even if he is saved, he will spend the rest of his days confined to a bed."
Kikyo said nothing.
She had long anticipated as much. Even if Onigumo survived, he would merely be a cripple brought back from the brink.
Yet her gaze made her stance clear: even so, she would still choose to save him.
Kikyo was a shrine maiden gentle in appearance yet firm within. Beneath her soft exterior lay a resolve—or perhaps a stubbornness—that most men could not rival.
From their very first meeting, Satsuki had offered subtle warnings more than once. But since Kikyo had chosen again and again to persist, Satsuki would say no more.
"In that case, remain here and care for him at ease. Katori Shrine is not far from here. I can travel the remaining distance alone."
...
Kyoto, within the Kamo estate.
After Ashiya Dōman had dispersed the group of onmyōji gathered at the gate—the most unruly temperament in all of Kyoto—he now calmly poured hot tea for himself and for Kamo no Yasunori seated before him.
Abe no Seimei sat nearby with a wry smile, shaking his head. There was not even a teacup prepared in front of him—a clear indication of just how displeased this old-fashioned master was with him.
In the eyes of this traditional onmyōji, Seimei's delicate relationship with Hagorome Gitsune bordered on outright heresy.
After pouring the tea, Ashiya Dōman spoke first.
"Teacher, what is your view regarding the organization known as the Lunar Palace?"
Kamo no Yasunori lifted his teacup, blew lightly across its surface, then set it down again.
"In my view, that organization is the only existence capable of rewriting the current order of this world."
Seimei pondered this and said, "The Lunar Palace did tell Dōman that their goal is to reshape this world. Teacher, do you support their methods?"
Kamo no Yasunori raised his eyes and looked steadily at Seimei.
"I am old now. There are some things I can say without restraint—I do not oppose their objective."
Ashiya Dōman added quietly, "At the very least, if no change is made to the present order, then an age overrun by demons will be unavoidable."
Seimei nodded in agreement.
After all, none of the three were strangers to yōkai.
Yōkai were, in truth, a collective term for countless aberrant beings. Even an unusually large ordinary animal might be called a yōkai by common folk.
But in the definition of onmyōji—only monsters possessing yōryoku were called yōkai.
Even so, yōkai were everywhere in this world. Some were animals that had cultivated and transformed. Some were plants that had become sentient. Some were even combs that had turned into spirits. Others were formed from the aggregation of resentment. Still others were once human, transformed into yōkai by their own desires.
Those who cultivated into yōkai were rare compared to the whole. Most lived much like ordinary creatures—born, growing, and dying naturally. Their strength varied according to talent and bloodline. In general, they followed instinct and showed little interest in beings outside their natural prey.
For example, the dog-demon clan of the Western Lands, the Panther clan, and the wolf-demon tribe to which Kōga belonged, along with their Birds of Paradise. Such yōkai had relatively fixed territories. Overall, they posed limited threat to humans—though exceptions did occur, such as Kōga slaughtering villages in search of Shikon Jewel shards.
By contrast, those yōkai born from resentment and twisted desire constituted the majority of the present population. Because they were formed from malice and grievance, they harbored an innate inclination toward destruction against all living things.
These were the truly dangerous beings to humanity.
Ordinary resentment was not enough to give birth to such yōkai. It required vast slaughter and sacrifice.
And this era of ceaseless warfare lacked nothing in slaughter and death.
Almost every militarily capable nation launched wars upon its neighbors whenever opportunity arose. In such conflicts, countless people died—and countless yōkai were born.
This was the fundamental reason why yōkai could never be fully eradicated.
To resolve this at its root, only an overwhelmingly powerful organization or nation could unify the warring states, quell the flames of conflict, allow the land to recover, and then organize Shinto practitioners and demon slayers to systematically eliminate those yōkai born of malice.
Perhaps, after half a century, the world might improve.
Once, that hope had been placed upon the Emperor in Kyoto.
But now, anyone with clear eyes could see that Kyoto no longer possessed the strength to influence the regional lords.
In the past, those lords treated the Emperor with utmost reverence. But the current imperial line—once they left Kyoto—might well be slain by a passing bandit on the road, and their deaths would mean nothing.
If this continued, it would inevitably form a vicious cycle.
War breaks out—yōkai are born—the living environment deteriorates—war breaks out again—yōkai are born—conditions worsen once more—then war resumes…
For years, Kamo no Yasunori had found no solution to this deadlock.
But perhaps now, things were different—
As this thought arose, the image of Satsuki flashed briefly through his mind.
He lifted the tea, now at the perfect temperature, and took a sip.
"For all these years, aside from the Lunar Palace, I have seen no other existence with the potential to break this cycle."
"Then I believe we have at least reached a consensus." Though not particularly welcome here, Abe no Seimei spoke in his gentle voice. "At the very least, we must establish a channel of communication with the Lunar Palace."
"That is simple."
Ashiya Dōman took out a black magatama and placed it upon the low table.
"This is the method of contacting them."
"A black magatama?"
What Dōman produced was nothing rare. It was one of the black magatama distributed throughout the Warring States by the Lunar Palace. At present, nearly any being of some strength possessed one.
"This one has already completed its assigned task."
Seimei's eyes lit up at those words.
"You were actually able to complete the task upon it?"
The missions assigned by the [Black Magatama] were not fixed. Their difficulty varied according to the strength of the holder. They were generally set at a level extremely difficult—but not entirely impossible.
Likewise, since each holder's strength differed, the power gained upon completion also varied.
Given Seimei's ability, the task assigned to him would be far from simple. And with Kyoto's current situation so critical, now was clearly not the right time for such an undertaking.
Suppressing a hint of excitement, Seimei partially covered his lips with his folding fan and asked, "How does one use the magatama to contact them?"
Dōman picked it up.
"You need only hold it and call out to them."
Seimei was just about to reach for the black magatama when his teacher's voice halted him midway.
"This magatama belongs to the Lunar Palace. To this day, no one has deciphered what substance it is made from. As the leader of Kyoto's onmyōji, you should not directly handle an object of unknown danger. It would be best to use a safer intermediary method."
Though Kamo no Yasunori did not appear particularly fond of Seimei, at crucial moments he still offered guidance to his most outstanding disciple.
Seimei narrowed his enchanting eyes slightly.
"Teacher, you underestimate me. I have already considered that."
With that, he withdrew a paper doll from his sleeve, infused it with spiritual power, and cast it forward.
Poof—
Amid a cloud of smoke, a shikigami resembling a mirror materialized.
"Attach the black magatama to this shikigami's forehead. I will control it with my mind." After a brief pause, Seimei smiled. "In that case, the issue is resolved."
Dōman merely said quietly, "The Lunar Palace is no ordinary organization. You would do well to exercise caution."
Seimei seemed unconcerned.
"After all, I carry half the blood of a reincarnated yōkai. Do not underestimate this 'half-demon.'"
Dōman opened his mouth, yet ultimately said nothing more, silently handing over the black magatama.
In truth, as a genius onmyōji in his own right, Dōman was not incapable of conceiving such a method.
But—he was afraid.
Until now, most people judged the strength of the Lunar Palace by their recorded feats.
Only a very small number had ever directly interacted with one or two of its members. Even so, the organization's fearsome reputation had already resounded throughout the Shinto community.
Ashiya Dōman, however, was the first to have witnessed the entirety of the Lunar Palace—though at the time he could not clearly see their faces.
Their godlike bearing as they overlooked all things, the hair-raising power flowing through the space—the Phantom Dragons Nine Consuming Seals—and the colossal statue behind them that seemed both divine and demonic, were all deeply etched into his mind.
Even Tōga, one of the Four Great Lords of the world, had been suspended in the air like a dead dog, his power extracted without resistance.
Having personally witnessed such might, though his outward demeanor had shown little change, deep within he had been shaken by fear of the Lunar Palace.
But that was hardly his fault.
For in this world, no one who had seen the Lunar Palace's power could remain unmoved—or unafraid.
Seimei took the black magatama and placed it at the center of the mirror shikigami. A circular Seimei Kikyo Seal surfaced upon the shikigami's face, embedding itself over the magatama.
Forming a hand seal, without chanting a single incantation, Seimei caused the mirror's surface to ripple like water.
Before long, a blurry blue figure appeared upon it.
That figure seemed to be handling something in the sky. She did not turn to examine the view from the black magatama. Instead, she was directing an enormous dragon-shaped yōkai to move several massive ghost ships floating in midair.
"That is… Ryūkotsusei?"
Upon recognizing the dragon-like yōkai, Seimei's expression clearly shifted in shock.
At the sound of his voice, the blue figure finally became aware of Seimei's presence.
She glanced about in the air, quickly located the viewpoint connected to Seimei, and slowly drifted closer.
As the distance shortened, Seimei was able to clearly see her form.
She was a petite woman with a single blue dragon scale upon her forehead. Her features were delicate, her long sea-blue hair drifting behind her. A halo-like ring of light revolved at her back, lending her an extraordinary sacred aura.
She was one of the Three Kings under the Demon Buddha—the Phantom Spirit King, Lana.
Yet when she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, carrying a faintly timid and adorable tone.
"Um… may I ask who you are?"
"..."
Seimei froze.
He had imagined the figure on the other side to be an imposing great yōkai—or perhaps a shadowy mastermind manipulating countless schemes.
But what was this innocent, neighbor-girl-like reaction before him?
He lifted his head and cast a suspicious look at Ashiya Dōman.
Are you certain this girl is the terrifying Lunar Palace member you described?