The rampage of the Seven-Tails finally came to an end. In Ryoma's hands, the massive tailed beast behaved almost like a subdued pet, easily sealed once more.
But this time, instead of sealing Chōmei back into its jinchūriki, Ryoma sealed the beast into a container. He had no desire to hold onto it, and intended to return it to Takigakure for safekeeping when convenient.
A few days later—on a dark, wind-bitten night—five figures stood atop a cliff edge overlooking a rift valley. Beneath them lay an ancient structure resembling a weathered shrine.
Torches flickered at the entrance, and more than a dozen samurai patrolled the area in mismatched armor.
"Hmph… this place really is hidden," the leading man said mockingly.
He wore black, looked to be in his thirties, his face thin and tired, his beard unkempt. His long black hair drifted in the wind, hinting at years of hardship. Behind him stood four white-robed followers—silent, deferential, obedient.
"At long last… the dark medical ninjutsu developed for this moment," he murmured, excitement creeping into his voice.
"With this power, we'll awaken the Mōryō… and unify the world."
He raised both arms. A faint distortion ran across the air.
"Reinforcement Method—inject chakra."
The ground at his feet split open. Pitch-black tendrils surged upward, stabbing into the back of his four subordinates' necks. Purple light pulsed through the tentacles as a gurgling sound filled the air—chakra forcibly injected into their bodies.
After a moment, the tentacles withdrew. The man smiled thinly.
"Processing complete."
The four white-robed figures burst forward simultaneously, tearing across the cliff toward the shrine with incredible speed.
"Suspicious figures!"
The samurai guarding the entrance reacted immediately, drawing swords and charging. But the attackers were far too fast—their blades cut only empty air.
A youth in white soared overhead, moving like a bird.
"You want to fight me?" he sneered. "Fine—let's begin. Lightning Release: Instantaneous Plane!"
On the other side, the white-haired man known as Mentenkyō clasped his hands together. A spark ignited at his feet.
"Fire Release: Fire Walk!"
Flames spiraled around him, bursting outward and forming a massive ring of fire that trapped the samurai inside.
"Don't panic! It's only a bit of flame!"
The captain tried to steady his men.
He didn't finish the sentence.
The black-haired attacker named Shun leapt skyward, arm sweeping forward.
"Wind Release: Gale Execution—Wind Cutter!"
Three tornadoes erupted around the four intruders, converging inward. The flames fused with the wind, forming a roaring inferno. The samurai were dragged upward helplessly, torn apart and burned to ash.
A final pulse of chakra blasted outward as Mentenkyō pressed his fingers together. With a sharp wave of his hand, the fire tornado collapsed, leaving behind only a massive scorched crater.
"Well done."
The man in black descended calmly, walking toward the shrine. His men pushed open the heavy stone doors.
Inside lay a wide hall, dim but visible thanks to the torches burning along the walls. Ahead stretched a narrow passageway cloaked in eerie silence.
"The time has come," the man whispered.
"You will all stay here. Beyond this passage lies the boundary between this world and the next. Only one bearing the name of Yomi may enter."
His footsteps echoed alone as he advanced.
A steep staircase descended endlessly. As he approached, the walls lit themselves, igniting one torch after another as if welcoming him. When he finally reached the bottom, he stepped into a vast underground palace.
Purple smoke coiled in the air. Ropes inscribed with sealing talismans hung from the ceiling. Rows of towering stones lined the chamber like silent sentinels. At the far end, the only true light glimmered faintly.
"There…"
An altar stood ahead. A massive boulder pressed against a stone gate, trapping whatever lay within. Five white pillars enclosed the structure, linked by shimmering blue barrier walls. Something powerful—and malevolent—was sealed there.
The man crossed the barrier and stepped onto the rune-covered stone platform.
"The ceremony begins."
His right hand twisted unnaturally as he thrust his palm toward the sealed gate. A pulse of purple chakra exploded outward, shaking the chamber.
He began chanting. Strange syllables formed a ritual impossible to comprehend. Sweat trickled down his face—the technique clearly devoured chakra and concentration at a brutal pace.
His eyes snapped open.
The flow of chakra surged.
A deafening boom rang out.
The sealing talismans instantly burned away.
Cracks raced across the stone gate, splintering like a spiderweb—
Then the gate shattered violently.
A thick, suffocating black miasma erupted from within, shrieking as it surged into the open.
From the abyss beyond the broken gate, an ancient, wavering voice began to speak…
"It has been a long time… Have you finally returned to this world?"
"Long time no see, Lord Mōryō."
The man in black dropped to one knee, bowing toward the pitch-black entity drifting before the shattered gate. His expression held nothing but reverence.
"You are…?"
"Have you forgotten?" the man replied calmly. "I am Yomi, the last surviving shinobi who once wielded your power to create the Ghost Army."
The voice of the Mōryō echoed like a whisper from the depths of a grave, cold and piercing.
"Why have you called me forth?"
The sound slithered into Yomi's mind like a phantom blade. His body trembled involuntarily, but his will remained stMōryō.
"The stars have aligned again. The cycle has begun. Now is the time for us to join hands once more—to build the millennium kingdom we dreamed of."
"But where is my flesh?" the Mōryō croaked. "A soul alone will not last long. I will fade."
At those words, Yomi lifted his coat, revealing scalpels and surgical tools neatly placed inside.
"I humbly offer my own body," he said. "Please use the Dark Medical Technique to implant Lord Mōryō's soul into me."
Without hesitation, he tore open his clothes, revealing his pale torso.
He raised a scalpel—and plunged it straight into his chest.
Blood spilled, but Yomi did not flinch. He dragged the blade downward, opening a cavity in his own flesh that resembled a warped pocket of space.
"Please," he said through steady breaths, "enter my body."
In an instant, a surge of enormous purple-black smoke burst from the gate and shot into Yomi's open wound, burrowing deep inside him.
He exhaled, then calmly pulled the wound closed and stitched it together.
"The ceremony is complete."
A low, rising laugh escaped him—a manic sound that reverberated through the underground hall.
Dark chakra radiated outward from his body like a shockwave.
"Hahaha… awaken, my legion! It is time to reclaim what was taken from us!"
The earth trembled violently.
One by one, the massive stones around them cracked open, revealing the towering forms of ghost warriors.
Each was nearly three meters tall, with bodies like stone-carved soldiers—terracotta-like giants wielding massive stone blades. Their hollow eyes burned with eerie white light, like spirits dragged back from the underworld.
"Rise, my warriors," Yomi commanded.
As the Ghost Legion stood to attention, he continued,
"Our first target is the ancestral hall—the one that seals Lord Mōryō's original body—"
He was abruptly cut off.
"Wait."
The Mōryō's voice echoed from within him.
"There is another enemy who must be dealt with first. Travel to Ghost Province. Bring down the Shrine Maiden. She alone still carries the power to seal me."
Yomi blinked.
"But Lord Mōryō… the Land of Demons no longer exists. It was reorganized into Ghost Province long ago. We don't even know whether a shrine maiden remains."
"What!? The Land of Demons is gone? Explain."
So Yomi recounted everything that had transpired over the past years—the rise and fall of nations, the sweeping unification of the continent, the birth of the Shadow Empire, and the rise of Ryoma.
"Ryoma…"
The Mōryō's tone sharpened with interest.
"To think that after so many centuries, such a human could appear again. Fascinating… truly fascinating."
When he learned that the world had changed drastically during his centuries of imprisonment, his interest only deepened.
In his prime, his goal had been to destroy the Five Great Nations and create a single unified realm—but he had failed.
Yet now, upon his return, he discovered a man who had accomplished the ambition he once held.
"Heh… I truly wish to fight him."
Yomi bowed deeply.
"You will have your chance, Lord Mōryō. Once you return to full power, Ryoma will not be your opponent."
He lifted his hand and gestured toward the Ghost Legion.
"Next destination—Ghost Province!"