The Uesugi army's encampment was set in a mountain pass between two peaks.
The terrain was well chosen: backed by the northern ridge, a gentle slope to the south, natural trenches carved by streams on the east and west, leaving only a single entrance about twenty yards wide at the south.
A camp of three thousand, tents arranged in neat rows, bonfires dotting the night like stars. The 'Bi' banner flew high before the main tent at the center of the camp, white background, blue characters, looking especially solemn in the moonlight.
But what truly made Shinji stop was not the tents or the banners.
It was the aura.
He stood on a low hill half a mile south of the camp, blood mist spreading thinly from his feet, extending his perception to its limit.
Then he felt it.
Human presence.
The pure, warm, living presence of three thousand people gathered together. Not the turbid, heavy thing that was demonic aura, nor the clear, bright existence that was spiritual power.
But a force, impure, mixed emanating from living ordinary humans. Breath, heartbeat, blood flow, footsteps. The breathing of three thousand people, the heartbeats of three thousand people, merging into an invisible flood.
This flood itself had no aggression.
But when it was unified, guided, shaped by something, it became something else.
Military momentum.
Faith.
Human presence condensed into momentum, momentum transformed into faith.
In this era, 'Fear' was the power demons drew from human terror, while 'Faith' was the power condensed from human reverence for a specific concrete or abstract existence. The two were two sides of the same coin, both physical manifestations of the mind.
But unlike Fear, Faith was more unified, more pure, and 'heavier.'
Thus, the divine artifacts bearing this power could 'suppress' all extraordinary existences. Even ordinary faith, though not as potent as divine artifacts, still had a certain suppressing effect.
Clearly, the Uesugi army was different from the Imagawa or Hōjō.
The Imagawa's soldiers were gathered by their lord's command. The Hōjō's soldiers fought for loyalty to their clan. Those were the most classic feudal armies. They too were unified, had human presence, momentum, what you might call 'military momentum.'
But the Uesugi's soldiers, they had something deeper.
Faith.
They believed in Bishamonten. Believed that their lord was an incarnate god of war. Believed that following her meant invincibility. This faith was not just a slogan; it was something revered from the depths of their beings.
The faith of three thousand people, gathered together, formed an invisible force field enveloping the entire camp. An invisible shell. When demonic aura approached the edge of this shell, it was naturally repelled, diluted.
Shinji could clearly feel that his blood mist slowed significantly as it neared within three hundred paces of the camp. No barrier. No trace of any technique. Just pure, collective will.
And as he observed....
On the eastern edge of the camp, something stirred.
Three small demons emerged from the bushes. Low-tier, perhaps at the Second or Third Transformation, drawn like moths to the 'heat' of the gathered three thousand.
They had no reason, no awareness. The instinct of a demon drove them toward people. More people meant more resentment, which should have been their best source of food.
But now, they were clearly wrong.
These were not ordinary three thousand people. These were three thousand united in faith.
The first small demon rushed within three hundred paces of the camp's perimeter. The moment its body touched that invisible force field, it was as if an unseen hand had seized it. Demonic aura began to peel from its skin, like dry mud flaking off a stone, crumbling piece by piece.
It let out a sharp shriek, struggling backward.
Too late.
The momentum of faith was not a barrier with a clear boundary. It was gradual, pervasive, everywhere. Once inside, it was like stepping into waist-deep mud, the more you struggled, the deeper you sank.
Within three breaths, the small demon's body completely disintegrated. Not even a trace remained. It didn't even make a sound loud enough to alert the sentries, that momentum of faith swallowed its shriek as well, like cotton absorbing water.
The second small demon took a step back, but that step was still within the force field. Its outer shell began to solidify, its body growing stiff. The next instant, it shattered.
Soundless.
The last small demon reacted fastest, turning to flee. But it got less than ten steps before it vanished into the night like smoke on the wind.
Three small demons, without making a sound. From approach to annihilation, less than ten breaths.
The soldiers in the camp didn't even notice. They didn't need to notice. The momentum of faith did it all for them, like an invisible wall, automatically crushing all extraordinary things that tried to approach.
This was clearly not an exception; it was the norm. Human presence attracting demons was normal. Military momentum crushing demons was also normal.
This was no exception.
Shinji witnessed all this.
He could feel it distinctly: any small demon below the Sixth Transformation had no right to exist before this force field.
He extended his perception further.
North of the camp, about half a mile away, another demon was taking a detour. A demon leader above the Seventh Transformation, the size of a calf, its body covered in rough, grey leather armor, its four hooves leaving deep prints.
Its original path would have passed near the camp. But after sensing that momentum of faith, it stopped. Stopped for a long time. Then silently veered west, taking a wide detour. Willing to walk an extra half day rather than approach that area.
As a high-tier demon, it had more than instinct, it had some intelligence. It knew that continuing straight would only lead to death.
Indeed.
Even high-tier demons didn't want to confront military momentum and faith.
"So this is true 'faith,'" Shinji murmured beneath his demon mask.
Opposite in nature to 'Fear,' yet the effect was the same.
And the thin mist began to clear, his perception deepening.
Beneath that dense human presence, he caught something heavier than ordinary faith. Scattered throughout the camp, several auras different from ordinary people.
Golden, pure, elevated. Originating from the same source as the power in Kakizaki Kageie and Yamagata Masakage, yet each different.
Indeed, more than one.
Multiple.
"One, two, three—" Shinji silently counted the sources of that divine artifact power. "Four."
Four warrior maidens bearing divine artifact power, stationed at the four cardinal points of the camp. East, south, west, north, each guarding a direction, like four stakes anchoring the entire camp to the earth, supporting a fortress-like domain, isolating inside from outside.
The strength of these four auras varied. The strongest was to the east, its concentration of divine artifact power surpassing even Kakizaki Kageie, much stronger than the other three. The weakest was to the west, roughly two-thirds of Kakizaki Kageie's strength. The other two were in between, neither high nor low, slightly weaker than Kakizaki Kageie.
These impressions were vague, but judging by the sense of threat they posed to Shinji, it was unlikely to be wrong.
"Four divine artifact reincarnations, the momentum of faith from three thousand people."
Shinji made his judgment.
A direct assault was impossible.
Even though his combat power was now far beyond what it was three months ago, storming a camp supported by the momentum of human presence and four divine artifact wielders was still a great trouble, with little certainty of success.
But fortunately, he had never planned on a direct assault.
Shinji looked back.
Behind him, on the slope of the low hill, over two hundred undead skeletons still stood silently. Blood mist enveloped them, phosphorescence flickering in their hollow eye sockets, waiting for his command.
But if he sent them in like this, they wouldn't last more than a few seconds. The fate of those small demons was proof. Pure fragments of the dead, even weaker than those few small demons at the Second or Third Transformation, would be no different from suicide entering the force field of faith and military momentum.
So Shinji did one thing.
He crouched down and placed his palm on the nearest skeleton.
[Bone Soul Change].
White bone spurs extended from his fingertips, enveloping the chest cavity of that skeleton. Not weaponized spurs, but a thin layer of bone membrane, coating the surface of the remains, like putting a shell around a fragile object.
Protection.
Not against blades.
But to isolate, even for an instant, the direct erosion of the faith's momentum on pure demonic aura.
Bones were physical entities, not condensations of pure demonic aura. The faith's momentum crushed the structure of the 'extraordinary'; its effect on physical entities was much weaker.
Not ineffective.
Just slower.
A little slower and that was enough.
Shinji wrapped over two hundred skeletons, one by one. Quickly, but each cost some demonic aura.
After finishing, his breathing was slightly heavier.
"Scatter." Shinji's voice was soft, but every skeleton heard. "Advance from all four sides. Don't charge. Don't attack. Just walk in."
The undead made no sound.
They just began to move.
Staggering, swaying, spreading out from the four sides of the low hill, slowly approaching the perimeter of the Uesugi camp.
From the eastern stream. From the western bushes. From the southern entrance. From the northern ridgeline.
Two hundred skeletons, from all directions, silently surging toward the camp.
…
The Uesugi camp.
At the southern sentry post, a young ashigaru was dozing against the wooden palisade. His watch was almost over; in half a quarter hour, he could change shifts and go back to his tent to sleep. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Then
A hand suddenly gripped the wooden palisade.
A grey-white bone hand, skinless, missing several finger joints, with bits of rotting sinew still hanging from the bones.
The ashigaru's eyes snapped open, and he suddenly met a half-faced skull outside the palisade. From its hollow eye sockets, dark green phosphorescence stared straight at him.
The ashigaru blinked, then his eyes widened!
Though demons were common in this era, the proportion of undead visible to the human eye was very small, and almost never encountered within an army formation.
Thus, taken by surprise
A scream tore through the silence of the night.
Then a second, a third.
From the east, the west, the north, almost simultaneously, shouts of terror erupted.
"Ghosts! Ghosts!"
"The dead—the dead are rising!"
"Evil spirits!"
The camp exploded into chaos.
Bonfires were kicked over by panicked soldiers. Tents were pulled down by stumbling horses. The clash of weapons and the shouts of men mixed together.
Soldiers rushed out of their tents, scrambling for their weapons, but froze when they saw what surrounded the camp.
Under the moonlight,
Red mist spread from all directions, like blood seeping from the earth.
Within the mist, countless broken figures were slowly advancing.
They made no sound.
No roars, no howls, even the clatter of bones swallowed by the blood mist.
Only silence.
A deathly silence.
And that silence was more terrifying than any roar.
The skeletons moved slowly, teetering, like a group of infants just learning to walk.
But their numbers, under the rendering of the blood mist, far exceeded reality.
The shadows of two hundred skeletons were stretched, magnified, twisted by the blood mist.
To the soldiers, they looked like two thousand.
Or more.
The hills were covered in the dead, crawling from the ground, walking toward their camp.
"A thousand demons marching…"
Someone whispered the words, trembling.
Then panic spread like the plague.
And at the center of this panic,
Atop the low hill directly facing the southern side of the camp,
A figure appeared in the blood mist.
Grey robes, white hair, crimson demon mask.
Purple arcs jumped silently around him, illuminating the crimson eyes on the mask.
He stood there.
Two hundred undead spread out behind him, beside him, beneath him.
Moonlight poured down over him, casting his shadow toward the camp.
That shadow
Covered half the camp.