Li Pan waved the little brother over and—glug, glug—mime-signaled underwater: shadow Shiranui Kiriko, find out what the court-backed ninja are planning with the stolen Grail, then report back…
The little brother didn't get the charade. He simply reached out, yanked Li Pan's soul loose, and asked:
"Big bro, what do you want me to do?"
Li Pan looked down at his misty hands; his whole figure was now a wavering water-image. He turned and saw his body sinking with a trail of bubbles—and a golden chain, one end hooked from his heart, the other sunk into the body's brow.
Great. The soul-grabbing hand… used on me.
Well, this works too.
"There are… acquaintances down there. I don't know what they're doing behind my back with the Grail. I'm going to follow and see; you guard me.
"And the blood-beast chasing us—keep her tied down, don't let her slip away! Wait for my signal—watch my cues. Above all, do not hurt her."
"Leave it to me!"
The blood infant flashed an OK, turned into a ribbon of red light, looped once around Li Pan's physical body like a sash, and Li Pan saw "himself" flare with a blood-red sheen in the eyes, then torpedo forward. In two or three moves he had the blood-beast tumbling end over end in the water.
Hey—didn't we say don't hurt her…
With his spirit out and his body "driven," this technically counted as having been body-snatched. Yet Li Pan could still feel dao-power and intent flowing to him along the chain from his heart; his spells answered freely. The kid wasn't actually possessing him—just puppeteering the flesh as a blood-thrall.
And Li Pan wasn't worried about a real takeover. If the kid tried, the Ghost-Culler in his belly wouldn't sit still.
He shook the thought off. He wasn't a cult monk; his system differed. He could exit the body, yes, but not flit like that earlier Blood-God avatar, coming and going at will.
Still, he knew more than a few orthodox spells. And while the orthodox path might lag a little in primordial-spirit methods, it's not like they have none.
He silently intoned The Supreme Heart Sutra for Severing Evil from the Secret Talisman of the Nine-Heaven Mysterious Lady.
One recitation: his spirit steadied.
A hundred recitations: the mirror-flower, water-moon wisp condensed and slipped free of the chain.
At last he refined the out-of-body soul into a foot-long, inch-wide bar of azure light—like a fish-gut sword. With a thought, that light flicked, skimming like a cinema flash through ripples, arrowing for the depths.
Mind guides image; image has no form—swift as light. Not slower than any Blood-God avatar.
In moments he was at the pool's bottom and soon found the Kōga group.
The surface facilities were nuked flat, but the tri-proof (blast/chem/bio) dungeon hadn't fully collapsed. Rain and pipe leaks had flooded the underworks; nearly everything below was underwater.
Li Pan trailed Shiranui Kiriko through winches and elevator shafts, spiraling down until she reached… a subterranean shrine.
A sweep of spirit-sense sketched the layout.
Beneath the prison's flooded cells stood an old shrine. No—clearly the shrine predated the prison. The warders had framed it in alloy, poured quake-proof concrete around it—an underground bunker. Though the surface was nuked and awash, drains and vents still worked; membrane seals at the tunnel mouths kept contaminants out—well, someone had slit them open.
Shiranui slipped through the cracked seal, crawled up a culvert, and in a polyethylene pop-up decon stall rinsed the poison water off.
Li Pan had no mind to watch her bathe. The azure streak darted into the shrine.
It was simple: a torii gate before, the honden behind. The special feature was an ancient well set at the plaza's center, now bubbling into a pool of spirit-spring.
The water was crystal clear, steam of aura wafting off it. Nowhere near the Celestial Realm, but in filthy 0791 it was a rare earth-vein node indeed.
Kōga's sealing priestesses had already arrived. They'd dived in wetsuits; outside, they'd stripped gear, rinsed down, and inside had set up a complex altar array.
White drapes were strung from the torii and shrine thresholds like a period war camp, three altar tiers with banners:
First altar: a bow. Banners read: "Hachiman, Great Bodhisattva Who Dispels Calamities."
Second: a single arrow. Canopy script: "Vaiśravaṇa (Bishamonten), Heavenly King Who Quells Demons and Misfortune."
Third: a sake saucer. Flag inscription: "The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven."
Each altar had four younger miko at the corners with naginata on guard.
By the spring, the seniors sat in a ring, beads in hand, chanting.
Beyond the altars and pool rose a tiny earthen knoll with the honden upon it: a gold-leafed miniature shrine-cab, wrapped and pasted layer on layer with exorcistic seals and binding circles. Its plaque read:
Temple of the Dragon King Who Clears the Four Seas.
One glance told Li Pan: that bow, that arrow, that sake saucer—and whatever was sealed in the honden—were monstrous artifacts: exorcist-grade suppressors from the Imperial Office.
So this was the Chiyoda Spirit-Pivot node that Kotarō and Shikii had mentioned.
Neither of those two were present—this was clearly a Kōga-only op, planned while those two were tied up by corporate war.
Shiranui, now rinsed, came to the spring, scrubbed and changed like the rest into red-and-white miko garb, scooped spirit water with the Grail and drank, then passed it on.
Eight around the pool; twelve at the altars—exactly twenty. They chanted around the array, just like the ceremony Li Pan had once glimpsed in Shiranui's dream: a formal sealing rite.
And after drinking the springwater from the Grail, the priestesses' qi surged visibly—match-flame to torch. The eight by the pool all but "ignited," rising to apostle-class power.
Then the old well gurgled—bubbles roiled—a beam of spirit-light shot up—and a paw cracked the surface.
Not flesh—spirit made nearly solid.
The brilliance shaped itself as a fox-like yokai crawling from the spring, and inside that radiance a figure rose: Kōga Asaji.
She had loosed her seals. Spirit poured off her in waves. Hair streaming, eyes burning like fire, nine blazing tails of aura chained to the very earth-vein through the spring. The force shook the ground; the pressure was suffocating.
Even the eight apostle-class priestesses had to concentrate to hold the chant.
Asaji, meanwhile, dragged herself out, belly to the stone—hair now shock-white, skin aging visibly, eyes feral and mindless. The power was breaking her.
Shiranui stepped forward and poured clear water from the Grail into Asaji's mouth.
The effect was instant. Asaji clawed back from the brink, got her breath, pulled on a goddess robe, and—amid the Kōga chorus—danced.
She danced and chanted, guiding the demon-god force inside and tugging that terrifying earth-vein current into layered veils around her, like flight-robes billowing.
With the chant she took the bow, took the arrow, and drained the saucer's elixir.
Her aura hit the sky—a column of light that seemed to pierce the clouds. Something vast opened its eyes: a presence to shake mountains.
She drew.
She loosed.
The shaft vaulted the spring and struck the Dragon King temple door.
Boom— gold fire roared; the seals and bindings snapped; talismans self-ignited.
A spirit wind passed; the door cracked open.
The seal was undone.
Asaji collapsed, her radiance collapsing with her, age racing over her again—almost gone. The priestesses hurried with the Grail to force spirit-water down and brought her back.
Li Pan took the chance. The azure light flicked and slipped inside the Dragon King shrine.
It was empty save for a stone coffer upon the altar.
Cautious, Li Pan edged close. The coffer—touched by the light—clicked open.
Inside lay a three-inch square mutton-fat jade plaque.
It looked… familiar. He scooped it up.
…The hell?!
A Penglai plaque?! He flinched—then peered closer. Not quite. No "Supreme," no "Nine True" characters. No register, no seals. A blank.
If it was a real immortal's tablet, it should be a little Sumeru mustard-seed treasure.
Well then… forgive me for my impoliteness.
He pressed his soul-light onto the plaque, and—swaying like a leaf—floated out of the shrine, right under the priestesses' noses.
It wasn't contempt. Cultivation is fate-bound; you can put a canon in someone's hands and they still might not "take." Like everyone wanting to be a scientist, but how many actually make it into Todai?
As for the Grail? Let it be. It can't sprout legs. And clearly the mikos only needed a sip to boost power and youth.
A pity they didn't trust the colleague they'd known for barely three months (and slept with twice), and told him nothing. Fine—he'd pretend ignorance.
But he wasn't the only one eyeing the Grail.
Shing!
Ziiip!
With a scream, the priestess carrying the Grail to the spring was beheaded—blood blooming like scarlet sakura. The falling cup was caught by an invisible hand. As the blood-rain fell like petals, an optically cloaked cyborg faded into view beneath it.
Sure, radiation scrambles performance—but modern war lives in fallout. Spend enough money and you can field systems that shrug it off.
"Bastards—!"
Shiranui snapped, blew her seals, burst into Great Tengu form, and launched a superman punch.
The assassin chuckled and flicked a palm—some plasma-class tech wave—half-vaporizing Shiranui. If she hadn't flinched at the exact instant, that shot would have ended her for good, archive and all.
"You—take the Dragon King legacy!"
Asaji—hair still white—snatched a naginata and went supersonic, cleaving at the assassin.
He answered by showing a monomolecular wrist blade, two snaps to cut the naginata, a third stabbing for Asaji's heart—
—and a beast's claw reached out from behind her, palming the assassin into the floor. Like flattening a trailer under one hand—yet on a billion-credit frame it left hardly a mark.
Startled by the invisible thing throttling him, the assassin pulsed a high-voltage EMP, crackling blue—like thunder in a closed room—and scattered the binding spirit-power by accident.
Shiranui roared and put a boot in.
He tried to dodge; mud-arms reached up and snagged his ankle. The kick crashed into his helmet and pitched him away.
Asaji followed, seized the broken naginata head, rammed her remaining power into the tip, and ran him through from behind.
Close. But not enough.
Vmmm—
A red-hot ion beam swept the chamber, bisecting several young priestesses sprinting for the shrine—instant charcoal.
Drrrrrraaaat!
A metal hurricane of tens of millions of alloy darts shrieked from behind—blanketing the pool—chewing the chanting seniors into a storm of limbs and viscera, mid-"Earth Release!", "Water Release!", "Fire Release!", "Hidden Clone!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Plasma lances roared from the entrance. Thermobarics, sub-munitions, incendiaries poured in—cross-fires of monstrous violence erased shrine, altar, and well alike, turning the place into a sea of flame.
The corporate hounds had infiltrated from three sides and seized the high ground: billion-credit bodies with billion-credit arsenals, all opening up, turning the hall into hell in a heartbeat.
Li Pan—wrapped around the jade—drifted through the blood-wind and flame and could only sigh.
Told you to keep your distance. This "Grail bidding war" isn't some kids' romance game.
Asaji and Shiranui still fought on with their guardian demons; the rest had no such backing. Arms, legs, eyes, brains—everywhere. The Twenty-One Houses of Kōga were finished.
No time to mourn. While both sides tore at each other and no one watched him, Li Pan rode the plaque out. Breaking the surface, he met chaos—boils and whirlpools from shockwaves.
No surprise: Kōga's ruckus drew every off-world corporate hitter to the new battlefield.
Outside, seven or eight of them were locked with "little brother" in an underwater melee.
Say this for Duan Kecheng: the guy is strong.
He torpedoed back and forth, swinging Saint Catherine's Sword like a blade, throwing out unseen arcs that burned in the water—forcing the hounds to juke.
It wasn't that the hounds were suddenly weak—the brother was too strong.
Same body as Li Pan's, but unlike Li Pan's bloody, tooth-and-nail brawl earlier, the kid fought clean and ruthless: one cut, one kill, momentum unstoppable. Anything slow was halved at the waist; distant beams and rounds—he simply cut them, physics be damned.
Before long, the "fight" turned into data capture—circling him to record and analyze the fire-edges he threw: what were they, what were they made of, how did they work?
"Kid! Quit playing! Where's the person I told you to watch?!"
The blood infant flared a fan of blade-light to push the pack back, flip-kicked through the water, tossed the body back at him, and pointed up.
"Big bro! These small fry kept me busy—I could only guard your flesh! Your woman got grabbed by her people!"
"You've got to be—!"
Furious, Li Pan breached—and there, far off, blood-beast K was in a clamp of mechanized arms, slung under a military hover-truck. Above, drones and SMS from every faction biu-biu-biu-ed across Chiyoda's ruins.
Explosions, gunfire, buildings falling—deafening; all the world a roar.
Hell.
This place is the Unending Hell.
Teeth clenched, fist tight, Li Pan suddenly looked at the jade in his hand.
It was drinking his dao-breath like a black-hole whirl. The blank mutton-fat surface was slowly showing the strokes of a talisman.
The blood infant popped up. "Big bro! Why are you spacing out? Half the field is aiming at you! My soul-snatch can't keep up!"
Li Pan turned reflexively. "What talisman is this?"
The kid glanced, baffled. "What talisman?"
"You can't see it?"
"Forget that, big bro! I'm suddenly ill at ease—smells like a tribulation. We should go!"
"My tribu—"
Daylight burst. From the water below a little sun unfurled, ten-thousand rays stabbing up—ten-thousand golden swords reflecting off the surface and boring into his pupils.
Not again—
The fourth time—
He had no time to act. The blood infant flared into a red veil and threw himself over Li Pan's head, wrapping him up whole.
Ah, little brother…
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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