Six Paths, huh…
Li Pan had skimmed a couple of pages from the onmyō manuals Ashiya Shigui handed over—about as seriously as one skims an employee handbook. A glance at the intro, nothing deep.
As a cultivator, he instinctively looked down on these "left-hand arts." And he was lazy; given free time, he'd rather game or binge a super-dream.
Ahem. In short, in the onmyō worldview, Six Paths and the interplay of yin–yang form the core of reality. Their "Six Paths," "Heaven's Way," "the Root," "the World's Principle," "the Weave," "cosmic laws," "physics"—all point at the same thing from different traditions.
Different systems, different environments, different civilizational routes, each glimpsing a sliver of truth in the dark and building a model for their world.
For onmyōji, the model is Three Realms—Takama Ga Hara, Ashihara (Reed Plain), and Yomi—and Six Paths: Deva, Asura, Human, Animal, Hell, and Hungry Ghost.
Ancient onmyōji believed all beings cycle through this wheel; death is not the end but the start of another leg.
Though the realms don't directly connect, onmyō shikigami arts let them project beings of Takama Ga Hara or Yomi into Ashihara to manifest.
Thus the early divide between Yang-Path (communing with Takama Ga Hara) and Yin-Path (dealing with Yomi) wasn't hostile—same cosmology, different praxis and summons.
Until the aliens came.
Elves arrived—otherworlders whose existence smashed the neat Six-Paths model. Onmyōji split cleanly into two camps.
The Yang-Path saw elves as angels of the divine realm. The extreme even worshiped these ageless beings. They helped build elven colonies and a divine kingdom, exchanged Yang techniques with elven magi, co-developed the Weave, and became naturalized subjects.
Rumor says the yin–yang integration cultivation came from elves—no wonder some onmyōji cooperated so eagerly.
But not all were drunk on elven tenderness.
Ashiya's Yin faction held: "Not of our kind, surely of different heart." Elves stand outside the Three Realms, beyond reincarnation. Their presence distorts the cycle; the Weave twists nature, leading onmyōji astray so their projections miss the proper loci.
Therefore, the elves must die; the false demon-gods must be sealed.
Irreconcilable: xenophiles versus xenophobes. The order split.
At first, the elf-backed Yang camp dominated; they prototyped the Seal of Demon, defeated and sealed Yin extremists.
Then the Weave detonated, elven civilization fell, Oda the Demon King rose, the Ashiya clan reversed the board—轮回 indeed.
Yet Ashiya Shigui himself, short on "proper upbringing," scorned classic Yin orthodoxy—and obviously looked down on Yang as well; the elves were long gone.
Now the Ashiya arts—onmyō and shikigami—were his pet monster-collecting game.
Li Pan watched, but did not strike.
His spirit had no combat power, and this ritual array lay deep beneath Neo-Tokyo—hard to reach, some corridors passable only the way a ghost slips through.
Given the Huàn hexagram's omen—the "ingot across the river"—forcing it tonight was pointless; by the time he fought through, they'd have moved. Empty-handed.
He swallowed his impatience and returned to his body.
He knew whose hands held the goods now. Timing always changes; when fortune turned, he'd claim it.
He hadn't expected Ashiya Shigui to deliver it the very next morning.
"Boss, mission accomplished. I rescued Mr. Fengmo from the Iga. He's under a heavy curse—too wounded for the Archive Cabinet to purge it completely—so he's recuperating at my estate. He should recover within three days.
Oh, and he asked me to give you this."
Li Pan looked at the "ingot," then at him.
"Oh? Iga again… Truly formidable ninjas…"
"Take good care of Kotarō, Shigui."
Ashiya bowed. "Yes, Boss."
Fine. The mikoshi is here—handle him as you like, just don't kill him.
"By the way, Shigui… I've been reading your family's secrets. One thing I don't get—what's Dao-ization?"
"Dao-ization…" Ashiya replied respectfully.
"As our records say, when a great onmyōji reaches the limit, he entrusts the bureau to a worthy disciple and begins the final path—pursuing the truth of Six Paths. Through shikigami arts he projects himself across the Three Realms, journeys the Six Paths, wanders Ashihara, crosses Yomi, and finally reaches Takama Ga Hara—mastering the road and witnessing the secret of the cycle.
This full process is Six-Paths Apotheosis. The finisher becomes an immortal of the land—the very embodiment of Six Paths—undying within the cycle, dwelling forever in the divine kingdom.
But this path was broken.
The elves altered the Weave; the road to Takama Ga Hara was cut. Yomi's demons flood into Ashihara. Even the finest onmyōji can't complete the full circuit. Those who grasp only part of the truth—without completing the Six—are what we call Dao-ized.
A Dao-formed being no longer borrows power like an apostle's jinchūriki; it truly touches the Root and wields its own authority."
"So that's the framework… Then are you Dao-ized?"
Ashiya smiled bitterly. "Hardly. I'm self-taught, barely completing our family curriculum. I might be called an onmyōji, but I'm far from our historical heads, let alone ready to tread the Three Realms."
"Mm… carry on."
"As you wish."
At the door, he paused, murmuring: "Dao-ization grants rule-like 'powers,' but it's not necessarily good. If you reach for the Root through externals, you can't truly command that power.
The process is irreversible—once begun, it doesn't stop. With the realms severed and the cycle blocked, the road is impassable.
Those who failed to become full embodiments are trapped—neither human nor beast, god nor demon, Asura nor hungry ghost.
If a Dao-formed entity appears in the world, best to banish it quickly."
Li Pan glanced up; Ashiya closed the door.
What a sanctimonious weirdo.
Still… Dao-ization grants powers? What would his be?
He lifted his coffee for a sip—oh. Oh hell.
His eyebrow twitched at the clear water in his cup.
No way…
"A-Qi! Brew me another coffee!"
"On it, Boss…"
Verified.
Yes:
Li Pan's Dao-ization—
Li Pan's rule—
the wish he made upon the Grail—
was that he could turn the drink in his cup—coffee, acid rain, mutton soup—
into clear water
the moment he intended to drink it.
…
… …
You've got to be kidding me.
What a trash-tier superpower.
Could there be a worse one?
He tested further: it wasn't even purify water. Hold the cup or touch the liquid—nothing. Only when he meant to drink did it become water…
Fantastic. He could've bought a distiller for five hundred credits.
Forget coffee versus water. With the mikoshi in hand, time to file the report. The fleet in the sky was starving.
He hammered out an application, attaching the Red Tengu agreements to request war funding.
At a time like this, one trillion could buy supplies, soldiers, ships—and secure Sector 0791 Fleet support. Why hesitate?
Of course, there were… complications.
TheM was an off-world corporation under all sorts of restrictions. They couldn't just wire a trillion to bribe local admirals and strip the citizen fleet.
They needed proxies—white gloves.
Naturally, the PMC's legal rep would be Li Pan. Who else had his network and channels?
In other words, his proposal was: HQ pays, and his own balance sheet gained a hundreds-of-billions asset.
But flip it around: it was still company property—HQ money booked under Li Pan. At best, he'd get a bigger paycheck.
And should anything go wrong, Security and Tax would nab Li Pan—he'd carry the legal can. A hazard stipend was only fair.
He rang Finance, flipped through corporate bylaws and 0791 investment policies, wrangled through another marathon call, and drafted the plan:
As a lawful 0791 citizen, active-duty soldier, tax-paying individual, and with Fleet co-sign, Li Pan could register a second sole-proprietor—Panlong Security Consulting Co., Ltd.—a private military contractor, collateralized by Panlong Construction's legally-valued 9.3 billion (recently audited).
Given local caps on off-world investment—no more than 5× registered capital above 1 billion—TheM would wire 46.5 billion to acquire 100% of Panlong Security, making it a wholly-owned sub under Monster Group; Li Pan remained GM but, as a sub-sub, his grade dropped to department head—300k/month.
Then TheM would sign a one-year PMC service contract with Panlong Security at 651.0 billion across 14 tranches, paying 46.5 billion as the first retainer into Panlong Security.
Add policy leeway for an additional 10% of revenue as fund investment: 65.1 billion moved from the war chest. Totals gave Panlong Security 111.6 billion in clean cash—enough for the fleet lease down payment and three months of initial supplies.
Personally, since Panlong Security was wholly held by TheM, spending required Finance approval; what he could pocket was the 46.5—minus a 10% "finance share," 41.85 billion—plus the 300k/month salary.
Even ignoring the shell company, his personal assets would top 55.15 billion…
Assuming HQ approved and the Fleet smoothed the paperwork—once Panlong Security Consulting was live, internal wires would be fast.
Rich man, finally?
Maybe, but there was still a 150-billion bounty on his head. Not exactly "lie-flat" money.
And even fleets worth hundreds of billions get erased in three seconds at the front. No need to show off with his little nest egg…
He spent the day juggling Finance, Legal, and the Fleet; bouncing between bank and tax office; pulling statements and certificates; founding the PMC; fielding calls from Orange and Nana to sign off on cruiser supplies. A full-on blaze.
At least now, as TheM's GM, his profile had climbed. His office commute rated a Cyaneus escort flight; no corp-punks or Iga dog dared take a shot at that bounty.
By night he'd finally packaged the docs, proposals, and scans to HQ. He slumped into his chair, dead tired.
Before he could breathe—knock knock.
0113007.
"Oh, High Priest. What's up?"
He rubbed his temples.
0113007 handed him a report.
"General Manager, the first combat bionic clone template is complete. We can register them as temps. Would you like to see?"
"Efficient. Sure, let's."
0113007 turned to the door. "Enter."
Li Pan opened his eyes—
and Shiranui Kiriko walked in.
Every hair on his neck stood up. He stared into the woman's face, breath caught.
0113007 read flatly:
"This is the standard combat bionic clone template for the corporate war—built on the 0213 temp-111 combat cyber-limb spec and 0791 temp-035's apostolic physiology.
Based on 0213's Deep-Dive combat biocyber for the Holy Grail War, adjusted for 0791's local rules using 035's data—genetic tweaks, bio-boosts, psionic awakening, potential unlock, dermal plasticity, combat optimization…
In normal ambient conditions, base metrics match Grade-5 military cyberware—benchmark AG-A super-limb.
In high humidity, Phase One transformation: all stats double; can leverage local liquids—acid rain, irradiated water—for specialized fortification, accelerated regen, cyber recharging—benchmark AG-S athletic super-limb.
At deep ocean depth, Phase Two transformation: tailored bio-weapons; final combat form benchmarks AG-RS super-grade.
Additionally, due to 035's personality record, the clone is compatible with demon seals and can be used to directly seal Sector 0791 demon-gods. Insufficient data on apostolic side effects."
"Clone…"
Li Pan resurfaced in 0113007's monotone and looked the woman up and down.
It was the same face, yes—but the chassis was profoundly different.
This was a lab-made chimera—biotech gene-harmonized and fully re-skinned.
Most obvious: younger—"fresh," like she'd just crawled out of the vat—skin slick, footprints wet on the floor.
Not a 1:1 of Shiranui Kiriko's adult physique; closer to eighteen or nineteen. Proportions adjusted; any mass that would hurt combat balance had been trimmed.
Untransformed, she looked mostly human above the neck—synthetic skin mask. Below the neck, a black-violet "sea-snake" dermis like nylon stockings—slick with a microfilm, able to chameleon to background—true optical invisibility.
Her stare at Li Pan was glacial—unfamiliar, a cold-blooded beast.
And yet, Li Pan could tell at a glance:
the shell had changed, but the qi within was the same.
After a long beat, he looked to 0113007.
"But I deleted her. Erase existence."
0113007 didn't blink.
"Yes. Local 0791-035 was wiped. But she underwent apostolic surgery aboard a Horus-class dreadnought. A copy of her existence and medical files was peeled and archived.
This clone uses the personality backup stored in 0113's Ark/Archive Cabinet. I've reset memories and rebuilt personality. Upon hire, you can re-write her disposition and upload a new biography.
Since 0791-035 was wiped, the clone cannot revert to her old self."
Of course. Once dead and recalled, it's never the same thing…
Li Pan narrowed his eyes.
"Why? Why pick her? Couldn't you let her stay dead?"
0113007 regarded him.
"Temp 0791-035, during her rampage, hosted multiple demon descents and nearly touched the Root. Her genome shows excellent development potential—meriting further corporate investment.
Also—she breached contract."
Li Pan blinked. "Breach?"
0113007 pulled a paper from the file and read:
"After one mission, a temp may resign voluntarily. For three years thereafter, we retain rights to the likeness and genome.
If a temp betrays company orders, steals assets, or leaks secrets, it constitutes breach. Depending on severity and damages, we reserve rights to compensation and penalties.
In the Holy Grail bid war, 0791-035 leaked classified monster intel to the Kōga ninja, and, without authorization, illicitly deployed monsters to trigger descents—causing mass casualties and direct economic loss.
As the responsible bid unit, we must compensate local property firms for collateral damages.
Therefore, we retain first-priority recourse against this employee. Only when 035 and her derivatives generate revenue sufficient to cover direct losses will we approve a delete-profile request."
0113007 handed him the document.
"HQ directive. 035's backup has been moved to HR. Deletion requires repayment of the breach penalty.
If you have opinions on handling 0791-035, you may file an appeal at the GM council."
"…Appeal?"
"As her direct manager, you may appeal and request to pay the penalty yourself—buy out 035's rights from the company. Then you may dispose of her as you please."
Wow. How is this his problem? Shiranui Kiriko begged for death; and this clone—did anyone ask her?
Still, he asked politely, "So how much does she owe?"
"At present, aggregated claims from all parties for the Chiyoda Incident total 2.8 trillion."
Two point eight trillion.
At 2,500 a month, she'd pay it off by the Year of the Monkey…
Right—this one truly can't die even if she wants to.
.
.
.
⚠️ 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."
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