Chapter 167: The Path to Deification
The night was deep.
Kobe Hikaru sped across the sky, treading upon the thunder itself. A brilliant purple glow traced a long, jagged trail through the heavy clouds.
His right hand gripped Raikiri tightly.
The once-radiant luster on the blade had completely extinguished. All the faith energy stored within the semi-divine artifact had been thoroughly exhausted during that single, devastating strike on the riverbank. At this moment, although the blade remained lethally sharp, the divine blessing of faith was gone.
He had to send it back.
It needed to return to the shrine within the Imagawa Clan's main castle. There, it would continue receiving offerings, accumulating the power of faith required to complete its true transformation.
A semi-divine artifact was still a long way from becoming a true divine weapon, but the trajectory was correct.
Time would smooth over the remaining hurdles.
And as an undead yokai, time was the one resource Hikaru possessed in absolute abundance.
The sprawling land beneath his feet receded rapidly into the dark.
With his Thunder Muscle fully activated, the vast distance from the Suruga border to the Imagawa main castle blurred into a matter of moments. The wind howled past his oni mask, tearing at his garments.
Simultaneously, his consciousness sank into the abyssal depths of his force field.
The complex bonds of Fear connected him to nearly a hundred yokai. Even as he tore through the sky, his mind issued a flurry of precise commands.
The three Tono tribes were ordered to return to their respective strongholds.
The Great Kappa, leading his dozen or so water-bound kin, received a direct assignment to the area surrounding Shimizu Port in Suruga Province and its interconnected river basins.
The water network there was dense and complex, making it the perfect breeding ground for the Kappa tribe to take root. The Tanuki Spirit had already laid the necessary groundwork in the region, meaning the handover between the two yokai factions required no personal supervision from Hikaru.
Meanwhile, the Kamaitachi, commanding its wind-element brethren, was dispatched to the rugged, mountainous regions of western Sagami Province.
That hilly terrain, choked with ancient cedar forests, served as the ideal hunting ground for wind-blade demons. It was also the exact region previously occupied by the assorted miscellaneous demons he had slaughtered along his journey.
Now that the territory sat empty, it was the perfect time to claim it.
Then, there was the Yuki-onna.
He positioned her in the northern reaches of Musashi Province.
Strategically close to the Uesugi Clan's southward passage.
First, northern Musashi boasted high elevations and freezing temperatures, an environment where the Yuki-onna clan thrived.
Second, it represented the most vulnerable section of the defensive line following Hojo Ujiyasu's devastating loss of forty percent of her garrison.
The current status of the second-generation Uesugi Kenshin remained an unknown variable. Although Hikaru controlled a fragment of her soul, paranoia was a survival trait; he still had to remain vigilant.
The sheer combat strength of the Yuki-onna's Eighth Transformation was more than sufficient to stall the Echigo advance troops. Even if the Divine Artifact Princess Warriors under the Uesugi banner united and pooled their Military Momentum, she could hold the line.
As for the remaining forty or fifty lesser demons, he broke them into smaller squads, scattering them across the map to plug defensive gaps.
Nearly a hundred demons, entrenched across three provinces, each locking down a vital sector.
As the ghost stories spread through terrified whispers, the 'Fear' swelled.
After tonight, the territory claimed by the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons had expanded exponentially.
Before this, Hikaru technically possessed the 'Fear' of the three provinces, but a meager twenty-three small demons were woefully insufficient to enforce actual control.
Now, the board had changed.
With the orders fully distributed, Hikaru retracted his consciousness. His Crimson Demon Eyes refocused on the horizon.
The scenery below shifted.
He was currently soaring over the very heart of Suruga Province.
Even in the dead of night, the collective human presence radiating from the land felt incredibly vibrant—more than twice as dense as when he had first arrived a few months prior.
The sensation was visceral.
It wasn't a mere spike in population; the actual number of citizens hadn't drastically changed. Rather, it was a convergence of human intent, organized and driven by a singular, unified will.
Since ancient times, royal authority rarely penetrated the deep countryside, a truth that held firm in the land of Hinomoto.
Especially in this era, where territories expanded but populations stagnated, Daimyos struggled to maintain actual control over their borders. They were forced to delegate power to a fractured network of lords and nobles.
The old adage held true: 'The vassal of my vassal is not my vassal.'
This political reality was precisely why Imagawa Yoshimoto had been so eager to win Hikaru over, yet only constructed a shrine within Suruga Province.
It wasn't a lack of generosity. Nominally, the Imagawa Clan governed three provinces, but their iron grip only truly extended across Suruga.
Even within Suruga itself, dark corners existed where the Imagawa banner held no sway.
However, the tides were shifting.
The most glaring evidence lay in the roads. The official routes leading from the outer territories to the Imagawa Mansion were significantly wider.
As he swept past from high above, his Sharp Eye Transformation picked out the fresh scars of construction flanking the dirt paths. Roadways were being expanded, drainage ditches dug deeper, and newly erected post stations dotted the landscape every few miles.
And... new shrines. New sources of 'Fear.'
The port had undergone a massive overhaul.
Shimizu Port's docks boasted several new berths. Sturdy trestle bridges reached out into the dark ocean, their lanterns flickering against the crashing waves.
Massive transport ships sat anchored in the bay, their towering masts resembling a dense forest.
This was the direct result of Yoshimoto draining the Suruga coffers to assemble a five-thousand-strong fleet for the Echigo expedition. Pure, unadulterated expansion.
She had used that military campaign as a ruthless springboard.
Deploying five thousand men across the sea had nearly hollowed out Suruga's internal defenses, even with yokai assistance. Yet, the strategic payoff of landing directly in Echigo's rear had caused the Imagawa Clan's prestige in Kanto to skyrocket.
Echigo Province wasn't particularly wealthy or fertile, but its remote location and coastal access granted it superior development compared to landlocked regions.
The expedition had reaped a massive harvest.
Kenshin had been forced to pull her troops back to reinforce her homeland—a piece of news that had already swept through the Tokaido like wildfire.
Daimyos across neighboring provinces were suddenly paying very close attention to the Imagawa Clan, their letters dripping with newfound interest in alliances.
And then, there was the shadow looming behind her.
The 'Kishin.'
A demonic god capable of matching wits with the God of War, Uesugi Kenshin, on a strategic chessboard. This terrifying realization had saturated Kanto and Tokaido in barely a month.
Ujiyasu was likely grinding her teeth to dust over the revelation.
Yoshimoto, however, rode the momentum flawlessly.
Although the Totomi and Mikawa provinces technically belonged to her, numerous powerful families within those borders had historically ignored Imagawa authority. Their insubordination rivaled the Hojo Clan's loose grip on Musashi Province.
Now, those same arrogant families were scrambling to declare their absolute allegiance. While a few stray landlords remained stubborn, Suruga's internal affairs were centralizing at a terrifying speed.
Tax revenues surged. Conscription numbers swelled. Trade routes flourished.
A Daimyo house evolving into an empire.
This was the source of that overwhelming human presence.
The concentrated faith of tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of people, forged an invisible, crushing momentum. Even unconverted, it was dense enough to suffocate most non-human entities.
Fortunately, to Hikaru's current undead constitution, this level of human pressure felt like a gentle evening breeze. His Ninth Transformation Yao Qi sliced through it effortlessly.
Yet, a distinct flavor mixed into that force field made him pause mid-air.
It wasn't just the political faith directed at Yoshimoto.
As the Kishin who birthed the legend of Slaying Lightning, the populace worshipped the Twenty-Three Demons, but they also prayed to the Lightning-Slaying Kishin.
He wasn't an orthodox deity. He was a family guardian spirit, officially enshrined by Yoshimoto herself.
Fear and blind belief twisted together, bleeding out from every wooden shrine in Suruga, every crudely drawn portrait, and every whispered ghost story.
The concentration couldn't rival an officially recognized god, but spontaneous folk belief was still raw power.
Quantitative accumulation would inevitably trigger a qualitative evolution.
Perhaps, one day, Hikaru could weaponize this very belief to breach the world of true 'Godhood.'
Purple lightning violently tore across the Suruga night sky.
The Imagawa Clan's main castle finally broke through the horizon.
At the absolute pinnacle of the Tenshukaku, a single light burned.
Hikaru reigned in the thunder and dropped from the clouds, his boots landing silently on the wooden balcony of the top floor. Residual arcs of colorful lightning spider-webbed across the floorboards before fizzling out into nothingness.
Before him stood a half-open paper door.
Beyond it lay the small room repurposed into his personal shrine.
He stepped inside.
Pristine white sand coated the floorboards. complex talismans plastered the walls. The ceremonial sword rack in the center sat empty—he knew perfectly well that the Raikiri in his grasp had been summoned directly from this very spot.
Hikaru approached and laid Raikiri horizontally across the wooden rack.
The instant the metal scabbard touched the wood, the blade emitted a soft, resonant hum. It sounded like a sigh of relief.
Yet, it also carried a trace of lingering reluctance.
A translucent blue panel flickered into his vision.
[Raikiri (Soza Samonji): Favorability +2]
[Current Favorability: 28 (Trust)]
[It is very satisfied. It enjoys being drawn for battle, but it also finds comfort in returning here to be worshipped. Both experiences bring it joy. However, it still prefers remaining by your side; it asks you to patiently wait for it to complete its transformation.]
Hikaru gave the scabbard a reassuring pat and stood up straight.
Then, his gaze shifted to the side.
In the shadowed corner of the shrine, someone was sitting.
He had known from the exact second he crossed the threshold that another presence occupied the room.
Sitting in absolute silence.
Waiting.
Without uttering a single breath.
White monk's robes. A grey kasaya draped over the shoulders.
It was a female monk, yet... the aesthetic felt slightly off.
The collar was folded and pulled taut, tightly binding her figure and revealing only the pale skin above her neck.
Her long, silver-white hair was pinned up elegantly, though a few stray strands cascaded down to rest against her collarbones.
The fabric of her white robe had clearly been tailored. The material stretched tightly across her chest. The lower half of the garment draped downward but was pulled taut by her cross-legged seated posture, heavily outlining the fullness of her thighs. The rounded curve of her hips was accentuated into an exaggerated, striking silhouette by the way she sat.
She looked like a serene Buddha, yet simultaneously radiated the allure of a demon.
But what truly commanded attention were her eyes.
They were impossibly deep. Bottomless.
Like a dried-up ancient well, the walls carved with countless scriptures—each word representing a lifetime of experiences that an ordinary person could never finish reading.
A string of wooden prayer beads wrapped around her interlaced fingers. Her thumb rested lightly against one bead, perfectly still.
She looked at Hikaru.
Hikaru stared back.
The Crimson Demon Eyes glowing beneath his oni mask locked onto a gaze that was far too weathered and ancient to belong to someone so young.
"The Raikiri has returned to its master's hands; it seems quite joyous."
She broke the silence first.
Her tone was neither high nor low. It echoed like a temple's morning bell—peaceful, clear, and absolute. "The Kishin has arrived; this humble monk has failed to welcome you properly."
Hikaru didn't bother denying his identity. He simply asked a single question.
"Who are you?"
"Taigen Sessai."
"Dharma name, Sofu."
She offered her name, followed smoothly by her dharma title.
Image: "Taigen Sessai", Location: "Images/1773418311-100464952-114573328.jpg"
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