Since the end of the Purification Ceremony, Kyoto had briefly entered a period of calm—but everyone knew that this unusual stillness was only the prelude to an approaching storm.
In Satsuki's plan, everything was proceeding smoothly and orderly, just as she had foreseen.
At present, she was focusing most of her energy on perfecting the technique known as "Veil of Light and Shadow · Samsara Genesis."
Originally, Satsuki had intended to develop a forbidden technique similar to the Reanimation Jutsu of Tobirama Senju. However, during development, she realized that she had a far superior option.
Unlike Tobirama Senju, Satsuki possessed the Tenseigan—an ocular jutsu whose power clearly surpassed even the level of Kekkei Genkai.
Moreover, after deep refinement, her Tenseigan contained an immense force of both destruction and creation.
In the previous world, she had once used the Tenseigan's creative power on a large scale to revive the fallen Uchiha clan—summoning their freshly departed souls and even restoring collapsed buildings through the same creative energy.
If she could reconstruct a technique similar to the Reanimation Jutsu around this power, the resulting ability would surely be far superior.
Thus, for nearly a week, Satsuki had secluded herself indoors, not stepping past her threshold as she worked to develop this new power.
However, Kyoto was no longer a place where one could simply shut themselves away for quiet research.
Not long ago, Ruri—who enjoyed wandering about—had brought Satsuki some news: the current Emperor had invited the priestesses of the Katori, Yasaka, and Ise Shrines for an audience, and the Yasaka Shrine's priestess had extended an invitation for Satsuki to accompany them to the Kyoto Imperial Palace to meet the Emperor.
Upon hearing this, Satsuki emerged from her meditative state.
Judging from her recent progress, although she was well-prepared, developing such a completely new ninjutsu alone was extremely difficult. Her intellect, though far beyond that of the famed genius Tobirama Senju, could not possibly accomplish in mere days what had taken her predecessor decades of study.
Moreover, her desired technique—Samsara Genesis—was to be far more practical and powerful than the Reanimation Jutsu. Even with the Tenseigan as its foundation, it was an immense challenge.
When she stepped outside, the Yasaka Shrine's priestess, Sakura Fubuki, along with several of her trusted aides, were waiting for her.
After greeting one another, Sakura Fubuki revealed to Satsuki the purpose of the Emperor's summons.
"The Emperor intends to establish Shinto as the state religion?" Satsuki mused, her expression thoughtful. "And the Onmyōji have no objections to this?"
"You may find it hard to believe," Sakura Fubuki said after a pause, her tone slightly cryptic, "but it was actually the Great Onmyōji himself who proposed the idea. Moreover, even the attitudes of certain higher beings have softened considerably."
Higher beings—
For a leader of a grand shrine to refer to them in such a way, there could be no doubt she meant the gods of this world.
At once, Satsuki understood the true meaning behind the Onmyōji's sudden concession—it was, in truth, a transaction between the Amatsukami and the Kunitsukami.
"A wise decision," Satsuki thought inwardly.
The Onmyōji lineage, unlike the priests and monks of Shinto or Buddhism, traced its roots back to the Taoist traditions of the western continent.
And unlike Shinto or Buddhism, Taoism cared little for faith—it focused more on worldly influence and authority.
By voluntarily relinquishing a portion of Kyoto's spiritual faith, the Onmyōji were both showing goodwill and subtly conveying a message: We will not interfere in matters of faith—so do not interfere in matters of politics.
That left only one issue unresolved—the internal distribution of power between the Amatsukami and the Kunitsukami.
...
Meanwhile, in a nameless kingdom within the western territories—
"Cough... cough... cough..."
A violent bout of coughing escaped the lips of Izayoi. Ever since the night she fled her homeland, her physical condition had only worsened.
With great difficulty, and thanks to the aid of some kind-hearted villagers, she had managed to reach the domain of another feudal lord, where she temporarily found refuge.
Although this was Princess Izayoi's first experience with exile and flight, a gentle, loving smile still lingered on her face.
Yet beneath that gentle and loving smile, a deep worry lingered within her heart.
The cause of that worry was none other than the young child playing among the villagers nearby—Inuyasha.
Compared to humans, a half-demon's growth rate was much faster. In less than a month, the infant Inuyasha had already learned to run and jump. Unlike human children, yōkai were born into harsh wilderness environments where survival meant learning quickly to face the cruelty of the world.
As a half-demon—neither yōkai nor human—Inuyasha's identity condemned him to rejection from both sides. Whether human or demon, beings of either kind instinctively rejected and even sought to kill half-demons.
Inuyasha's father was Tōga, the Great Dog General. That connection could have once served as his protection, but now it had become a death sentence.
Everyone knew that Tōga, the Lord of the Western Lands, had a lawful wife—Princess Inukimi. However, the Great Dog General had publicly fallen in love with a human woman.
Although yōkai did not abide by the moral constraints of lifelong fidelity, to say that Princess Inukimi was completely indifferent would be impossible.
Moreover, Tōga had not been involved with only one woman. Rumors also linked him to Shiru, the elder sister of Kirinmaru—the Lord of the Eastern Lands and one of the Four Lords of the Realm. No one knew the full truth of what had happened between them, but on the day Shiru left, anyone could see that she bore an irreconcilable grudge against Tōga.
Had Tōga still been alive, his power alone could have shielded his family from retribution. But his sudden death left behind countless hidden dangers for his sons and loved ones.
Even if Princess Inukimi chose not to stoop to the same level as Izayoi and Inuyasha, she would certainly offer them no aid. After all, when her own son, Sesshōmaru, faced life-threatening peril, she had shown the ability to act with ruthless reason. Expecting her to show mercy toward her husband's human lover was beyond imagination. The fact that she had not sent demons to eradicate them already showed remarkable restraint.
At the same time, Tōga's death had stirred ambition among the yōkai of the Western Lands. Many had long resented his rule, which restrained their instincts, and they now wished to act freely according to their demonic nature.
With the Dog General gone, and the Cloud Palace tightening its defenses to guard against the Lunar Palace's influence, a vast power vacuum had formed across the Western territories.
Sensing the opportunity, countless yōkai began to move with their own ambitions. To rise higher, they required more sustenance—and of all prey in the world, humans were both the most plentiful and the easiest to hunt.
And sure enough, before long, the alarm bells began to ring across the land where Princess Izayoi had taken refuge.
"All soldiers, assemble! The village is under attack by yōkai!"
Being attacked by yōkai was a daily occurrence in the Western Lands—what was strange was not being attacked.
That did not mean, however, that the people here were willing to become food for demons.
Though the fiefdom was remote and small, its ruling lord was a man of sharp pragmatism. Long ago, he had realized that in this world, a powerful army was indispensable for survival.
At the same time, he understood well that ordinary human soldiers alone could never stand against yōkai. To truly deal with demons, one had to rely on mages, shrine maidens, and professional demon hunters.
Now, over a hundred such exorcists stood outside the massive city walls, wearing tight-fitting battle attire and simple anti-miasma breathing devices, forming a defensive line encircling the fortress.
The castle's soldiers, meanwhile, were tasked with logistics and rear support. They were the lord's personal forces and would not be sent to the front lines to die. After all, if the army suffered heavy losses, it would not take long for rival lords—or even powerful bandit groups—to invade, plunder, and seize control.
This was no exaggeration. In these times, it was not uncommon for a bandit leader who slew a castle lord to assume his place as the new ruler.
As the soldiers cleared a blockade of carriages, a distant cry echoed from the front lines—battle had already begun. The demon hunters were engaging the invading yōkai.
Most powerful yōkai preferred solitude and rarely attacked in groups. Thus, when the exorcists saw that the enemies before them were mostly low-level monsters, they breathed a collective sigh of relief.
As long as the number of small fry yōkai didn't exceed a certain threshold, their threat remained manageable—and the exorcists knew countless ways to deal with them.
For most yōkai, fighting trained exorcists was a rare occurrence. In their limited reason, humans and prey were no different—merely targets waiting to be devoured.
Reality, however, proved otherwise. The instant the two sides clashed, the battle turned decisively in favor of the exorcists.
Trained and disciplined, the hunters used iron chains and grappling lines to maneuver swiftly through the surrounding forest, isolating and restraining the slower-moving yōkai on the ground.
The more skilled among them acted as bait, drawing attention while their comrades struck. Others employed talismans imbued with spiritual power or threw specially crafted stink bombs to drive the yōkai toward areas thick with dry brush and flammable material. There, barrels of oil were spilled, and flaming arrows ignited roaring infernos.
Once a wave of yōkai was dealt with, the exorcists regrouped, repeated the same tactics, and continued their relentless assault.
Throughout the battle, they avoided close combat, instead relying on superior mobility and preparation to lure their enemies into pre-set traps.
After some time, the once-hundred-strong horde of yōkai had been reduced to fewer than twenty. These remaining ones, however, were tougher—either highly resilient or heavily armored. Fire and poison did little to harm them.
The exorcists divided into two teams. One team used steel cables and iron chains to restrain the more troublesome yōkai, buying time for the other team. The second group hurled dye-filled marking orbs, coating the targets in bright colors to help the ballista operators at long range identify their prey.
These colored marks served two purposes: target identification and friendly-fire prevention. They warned nearby allies not to approach the marked target, lest they be struck by the massive bolts meant for it.
"My lord, how much longer until they're all wiped out?" asked a commanding officer, standing beside a senior exorcist as they watched the carnage unfold among the trees like spectators at a performance.
"To finish them all off will take a bit more effort," the exorcist replied calmly.
The remaining yōkai were durable, resistant to both poison and flame. Only the fortress's heavy repeating crossbows—each bolt nearly three meters long and tipped with barbed, blood-channelled heads—could deal them significant harm.
"Truly impressive, Exorcist-sama. To so easily subdue monsters we could never hope to face—it's nothing short of divine."
Anyone who had witnessed a coordinated exorcist operation would be astonished by their combat prowess. Soldiers, in particular, admired not only their skill but also the sophistication of their tactics and command structure.
Under such a system, no exorcist fought as an isolated individual. Each one knew exactly what to do, when to move, and where to be. This allowed them to execute maneuvers that even trained armies struggled to achieve, producing a level of efficiency and coordination that far exceeded expectations.
The lead exorcist, surveying the battlefield, gave a confident nod and said to the nearby officer, "Relax. The battle's already won. The few remaining yōkai are troublesome, but they won't be turning the tide."
"...Understood."
...
Meanwhile, within the castle lord's mansion, the chief exorcist responsible for overseeing the entire operation sat crouched before a wooden table.
He was young and strikingly handsome, with a refined air uncommon among battle-hardened men. Yet now his expression was grave as his eyes scanned the map spread across the tabletop.
"Lately, requests for exorcist services from the Western Lands have multiplied several times over compared to previous years—and the nature of these commissions has become far more varied," he muttered thoughtfully.
The young castle lord seated at the head of the room nodded in agreement. "It's not just us. Many of the neighboring lords have closed their gates as well. I suspect they've also been attacked by yōkai."
At the mention of this, a thought flashed through the exorcist leader's mind. Grabbing a brush, he began marking the map with ink dots, indicating each of the recent attack locations.
Relying on memory and intelligence reports, he soon marked over thirty points across the region.
And even so, that was only a fraction of the total incidents. The true number of yōkai attacks was far higher.
Hiring exorcists was no cheap endeavor, and the Western Lands lay far from Musashi Province. Unless a domain maintained its own permanent group of exorcists, few could hope for timely aid in an emergency.
In many cases, a small village of thirty or forty people—without warriors or priestesses for protection—could be wiped out entirely by a single rogue yōkai.
When the markings were complete, the exorcist stepped back and examined the map as a whole.
From a broader perspective, he noticed something peculiar. Removing the outlier points, the remaining ones gradually connected to form a discernible line.
Following that trajectory with his eyes, his gaze eventually settled upon a stretch of coastline.
Before he could think further, a sudden commotion erupted outside.
A flustered exorcist burst through the door, his face pale. "Chief! Something's wrong—the sky outside! A large number of ships have appeared and are approaching rapidly!"