Chapter 115: What Qualifications Do You Have?
Fzzt—!
The arrow sliced silently through the night, grazing the trunk of an ancient pine on the ridge of the northern hill. The moment it struck, a wave of spiritual power erupted, blasting the tree—as thick as a large bowl—clean in half.
The splintered trunk crashed to the earth, sending a shower of pine needles and splintered wood into the air.
Momiji and Botan spun around, their faces masks of pure astonishment. They couldn't comprehend why Kikyo had suddenly fired an arrow into the mountain forest behind her. There was nothing there, at least nothing their own senses could detect.
But in the next second, a sharp cry pierced the quiet from deep within the bushes.
A figure was violently thrown from the foliage by the residual force of the blast, tumbling gracelessly down the gravel-strewn slope.
Her white robe and red hakama—the unmistakable attire of a priestess—were now soiled and askew. On her beautiful face, the carefully cultivated composure had shattered into a thousand pieces.
Tsubaki knelt on one knee amidst the loose gravel, her left hand braced against the ground. Her right hand clutched her shoulder, which was numb from the shockwave of spiritual power. Her wide sleeves were covered in pine needles and dirt, and a few strands of black hair clung to a forehead damp with cold sweat.
That face, which could still be considered exquisite, now looked almost comical in its state of utter dishevelment.
But Tsubaki felt no anger, only a cold, lingering fear. That arrow… if she hadn't preemptively erected a barrier where she stood, she would have been grievously injured, if not killed outright.
She looked up, her gaze locking on Kikyo, who stood in the clearing thirty zhang away. The longbow was still held in a shooting posture, the string still humming faintly from the release.
Those pitch-black eyes regarded her coldly, from a position of absolute superiority. There was no anger, no demand for answers—only a deep calmness that sent a chill crawling down Tsubaki's spine.
No, this isn't right, she thought frantically. It shouldn't be like this.
Kikyo was powerful, Tsubaki had always admitted that. But in her impression, the woman was also lonely, desperate for recognition… She shouldn't be this composed…
Could it be because of that demon!?
"Sen… Senior Sister?"
Momiji's voice was the first to break the silence. She looked from the disheveled figure on the slope to Kikyo's unnervingly calm face. The narrative that had been so carefully constructed in her mind began to crack.
Her senior sister had told them Kikyo was a fallen priestess, that she was colluding with demons.
But if that were true… why was she hiding in the forest? Why not stand out openly and challenge her? And why, when forced from her hiding place by Kikyo's arrow, was the expression on her face not righteous anger, but… guilt?
"Senior Sister, are you alright!" Botan was more direct, hiking up her hakama as if to run up the slope.
But Tsubaki was already on her feet, her expression shifting with practiced speed. The woman's talent for deception was truly remarkable; in the span of a breath, the panic was gone, replaced by a mask of deep concern and anxiety, as if her humiliating tumble had never occurred.
No matter what, the act had to continue.
"Momiji, Botan!" Tsubaki's voice was urgent and earnest, laced with the unique tenderness of a senior sister worried for her juniors. Brushing the dirt from her robes, she hurried down the gravel slope toward them.
"Are you two hurt? I was monitoring the situation from nearby, and just as I suspected, Kikyo—" She raised a hand, pointing dramatically at the patches of ash on the ground. "Do you see? The aura lingering in those ashes is human!"
Tsubaki even managed to conjure a tear, her voice trembling with the feigned emotion of a bystander who had witnessed an unspeakable tragedy.
"She used her spiritual power to burn seven people to ash… I tried to stop her, but she discovered my presence—" Her voice cracked with sorrow. "She wanted to kill me to silence me!"
The words were delivered with such heart-wrenching conviction that anyone who hadn't just seen her peeking from the bushes would have been moved.
Momiji's fists clenched. Her gaze darted between Tsubaki and Kikyo, her mind in turmoil. Her senior sister's words did align with some of the facts—she could sense the lingering human aura in the ashes, and Kikyo had indeed just fired an arrow that had clearly struck Tsubaki.
But the other parts…
If her senior sister had come to stop Kikyo, why not appear directly? Why hide in the bushes? What was the difference between a priestess who came to 'monitor'and one who came to'peek'? Momiji couldn't articulate it, but the dissonance felt like a thin thorn pricking at her intuition.
"Is what Senior Sister said true…?" Botan whispered, her tone wavering. She wanted to believe her senior sister, but the way she had come rolling out of the bushes… it truly didn't look like the actions of a righteous observer.
Kikyo watched it all unfold. Her dark eyes swept over Tsubaki's performance of grief, then settled on the confusion clouding Momiji and Botan's faces.
Tsubaki was waiting for her to deny it. Waiting for her to stammer out an explanation. Waiting for her to show a single flaw. Then, she would pounce, twisting any defense into mere sophistry with another round of rhetoric. This was the battlefield Tsubaki excelled at—the battlefield of words and manipulation.
But Kikyo had never been skilled in such things. And she had never… disdained them more.
Just then—
"Don't you dare hurt Sister Kikyo!"
A child's determined shout came from the direction of the shrine. Kaede, her hair in its usual twin-tails, came sprinting out. She wore patched clothes and had only one straw sandal on her feet, the other having been lost somewhere in her haste.
She ran straight to Kikyo's side and spread her arms wide, shielding her older sister with her own small body. A girl of seven or eight, standing defiant before two priestesses who had received formal training in spiritual arts.
"You're not allowed to bully my sister!"
"Kaede—" Kikyo began, reaching to pull her back, but more footsteps were approaching.
From all over the village, from the low wooden houses and the paths between the fields, the villagers were emerging. It wasn't just one or two. It was the entire village.
The elderly leaned on canes, men in their prime shouldered hoes, and women held their children close. Fear and confusion were plain in their eyes—after all, three unknown priestesses stood at their village edge, and the clearing bore the marks of a battle.
But they didn't hide. They came out. And they stood by Kikyo's side.
"Lady Kikyo has done nothing wrong," an old farmwoman was the first to speak. Her voice was not loud, but it was firm. "She has always protected us."
"Those things she killed were definitely not human," another elderly woman added. "We all heard the commotion and saw them through the windows—their mouths were split to their ears and their nails were half a foot long. You call that human?"
"Exactly! If Lady Kikyo wanted to kill people, would she need to wait until midnight?"
"She saved all our lives!"
Voices rose one after another, a chaotic but unanimous chorus. Every word was a defense of Kikyo, every villager a shield for her.
Momiji was stunned. Botan was stunned. Their senior sister had claimed Kikyo was a fallen priestess, that she conspired with demons, and that the villagers were merely deceived.
But… would deceived villagers rush out in the middle of the night to physically shield a priestess with their own bodies? Could the trust and gratitude shining in their eyes possibly be faked?
Momiji's hand, poised to form a seal, froze in mid-air. The talisman paper in Botan's grasp slipped from her fingers.
Kikyo, too, was stunned. She looked at the villagers surrounding her, at the earnest expressions on their faces.
It hadn't been like this before. In the past, though she was loved, the villagers' feelings were dominated by awe—awe for her spiritual power, and even more so for her status. A priestess was a sacred, inviolable guardian. They respected her and made offerings, but they also kept their distance. Never before had a single villager rushed out to speak for her when she was questioned.
Before Hikaru came, she had shouldered everything alone. The crushing weight of the Shikon Jewel, the endless tide of demons, the lonely battles—all of it, alone.
But today was different.
Kikyo lowered her head slightly, a curtain of jet-black hair falling to hide her expression.
Kaede was still standing protectively in front of her. The young girl glanced back at her sister and whispered, "Big Brother taught us this."
"…What?"
"Before Big Brother left, he told the villagers that if anyone came to cause trouble for Sister, they shouldn't just hide in their houses." Kaede's twin-tails swayed as she spoke. "He said, 'Kikyo has protected you for so long, it's time you helped her.'"
"He also said Sister doesn't have to carry everything by herself."
"He is here, and everyone else is here too."
Kikyo's fingers trembled slightly. She looked up, and something shimmered within her pitch-black eyes. It was not tears. Kikyo would not cry in front of others.
She simply smiled. It was a faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but she was undeniably smiling. It was a smile of pure relief.
Watching this scene, most of the anger on Momiji's face had dissolved, replaced by confusion and doubt. Botan bit her lip, torn between her loyalty to her senior sister and the truth unfolding before her eyes.
Tsubaki, however, only grew more infuriated by the sight of these ignorant, meddling peasants.
Kikyo's gaze then fell upon her. As grateful as she was to the villagers, the truth was… she didn't need them to prove anything for her. She had her Hikaru, and she was no longer so easily shaken.
"Tsubaki, you want an explanation," Kikyo said, her voice quiet but her tone indifferent. "Unfortunately, I have no obligation to explain anything to you."
Tsubaki's tearful performance froze on her face. She had expected a rebuttal, a frantic defense, a desperate attempt to present evidence of innocence. No matter what Kikyo said, Tsubaki had a counter prepared—a web of rhetorical tricks and verbal traps.
But Kikyo didn't step into the trap. She didn't even approach the edge of it.
When those pitch-black eyes looked at her, they held only one thing.
Indifference. Pure, undisguised indifference. It was the look an adult gives a child throwing a tantrum on the floor—not anger, not helplessness, just a weary acknowledgment that no response was necessary.
Tsubaki's expression darkened. If the soft approach wouldn't work—
"Momiji." Tsubaki changed her strategy in an instant, her voice becoming even softer, more pleading. She walked toward Momiji, reaching out to take her hand. Her upturned eyes were filled with a desperate earnestness, like a bullied older sister seeking solace from her junior.
"You believe your Senior Sister, don't you? From the time we were children, when have I ever lied to you?" Her fingers were just about to brush the back of Momiji's hand. "You can feel the aura in those ashes, too. They were human—Kikyo didn't even try to heal them, she just directly—"
A sound so subtle it was almost imaginary, like the plucking of a single, fine silk thread.
Tsubaki's outstretched hand stopped in mid-air. Her entire body seemed to freeze, as if struck by a universal pause. The gentle, pleading expression on her glamorous face locked in place—not by her own will, but because her body had suddenly ceased to obey her.
It was her spiritual power.
It had been sealed.
It wasn't scattered, suppressed, or trapped by a barrier. It was as if it had been encased in a cocoon of other, alien spiritual power—like a silkworm trapped within the very silk it had spun, unable to move. Her hands could still move, her legs could still walk, her mouth could still speak.
But her spiritual power—not a single shred could be mobilized.
Tsubaki's pupils constricted into pinpricks. She whipped her head around to glare at Kikyo.
Kikyo hadn't even raised her bow. She wasn't even looking at her. In the instant Tsubaki had moved toward Momiji and reached out her hand, Kikyo had simply released her own spiritual power. It hadn't manifested as visible light, hadn't exploded, hadn't even flickered.
Across a distance of thirty zhang.
With absolute, surgical precision, it had located and severed Tsubaki's connection to her own power.
Tsubaki's voice, when it came, was completely changed. All the gentleness, concern, and earnestness had collapsed.
All that remained was terror. The pure, unadulterated terror of facing an absolute chasm in power.
She was a priestess. She knew better than anyone what had just happened. Kikyo hadn't touched her, hadn't looked at her, hadn't even made an obvious movement. From thirty zhang away, she had directly sealed the flow of spiritual energy within Tsubaki's body.
This level of spiritual power.
This degree of control.
This fundamental understanding and application of spiritual arts.
They were not on the same level. They had never been.
Her self-righteous calculations, her carefully choreographed rhetoric, her layers of disguise—faced with this pure, overwhelming power, she was like a toddler trying to trip a mountain.
Laughable. Pathetic.
Tsubaki was terrified. She was panicking.
At almost the exact same moment, the sky exploded.
A bolt of violet lightning ripped through the dark clouds, striking the ground beside the torii gate at the village entrance. The earth cracked and mud flew, the flash of thunder illuminating the entire village and casting every face in a deathly pale light.
The majestic Yao Qi that washed over them startled Momiji and Botan, left Tsubaki dazed, and caused the villagers to look up, though without a trace of fear.
Kikyo paused, and then, for the second time, a smile graced her lips. This one was much more noticeable.
As the lightning faded, a figure stepped out from the light.
He wore grey robes, his long hair a pale silver. A crimson Oni mask covered his face, and the eyes visible beneath it glowed with a scarlet light. His left hand rested on the hilt of Muramasa, while his right hung at his side, purple arcs of electricity still crackling between his fingers.
The scent of dust from a long journey still clung to him, mingled with the faint smell of blood and thunder.
Hikaru.
He was back.
"It seems I've returned just in time."
As he spoke, Tsubaki's expression tightened. She suddenly realized that at some unknown point, a thin mist had begun to rise around them.
A thin mist the color of blood.
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