Chapter 168: Great Yokai? Domineering God
Taigen Sessai.
The weight of this name across the Tokaido region east of Kanto was, in some respects, even heavier than that of Imagawa Yoshimoto herself.
Her dharma name was Sofu. She served as the grand strategist of the Imagawa Clan, the revered teacher of Yoshimoto, and the absolute authority managing the political affairs of Suruga Province.
The world knew her by a singular title: the 'Black-Robed Prime Minister.''Black-robed' did not simply mean she favored dark garments; it was the traditional designation for a monk.'Prime Minister' naturally referred to the sheer magnitude of her power.
A person who had forsaken the secular world to take the tonsure, yet held the military and political fate of an entire nation in her hands. Such a contradiction was not entirely unique in the bloody Sengoku Period, but to achieve it to the terrifying extent of Taigen Sessai was a solitary case.
She was, for all intents and purposes, the very brain of Imagawa Yoshimoto.
The Imagawa Clan's meteoric rise from the single province of Suruga to become the undisputed hegemon of Tokaido rested squarely on Sessai's monumental contributions.
In the original historical timeline, Taigen Sessai perished before the fateful Battle of Okehazama—the decisive, catastrophic clash against the Oda Clan of Owari.
That legendary defeat, where a minuscule force shattered a massive army and dragged the Imagawa Clan from the heavens down into the deepest abyss, happened largely because this Black-Robed Prime Minister was no longer there to guide them.
Without a brain, the body could only thrash blindly, incapable of rational judgment.
Yet at this very moment, this legendary Black-Robed Prime Minister sat cross-legged on the tatami mats, a mere three steps away from Kobe Hikaru.
The tragedy of Okehazama had not yet come to pass.
She was also, quite clearly, still breathing.
Hikaru naturally recognized the name and the person, even though their paths had not crossed during his previous visit to the province.
As for the glaring discrepancy of her gender... Hikaru had long since grown numb to it. In this bizarre two-dimensional world, yin heavily outweighed yang. If you did not like the rules of the game, you simply did not play.
He grumbled internally, keeping his demonic features entirely expressionless behind his oni mask.
Judging by the serene posture of the monk before him, she had anticipated his arrival in Suruga Province. She was waiting specifically for him to return the blade.
"How long have you been waiting here?" Hikaru asked, his voice a low, raspy rumble in the quiet room.
"Two days."
Sessai's reply was placid, her slender fingers slowly turning the wooden prayer beads resting in her lap. "This poor monk calculated that you would borrow the sword tonight, and that you would inevitably come to return it."
"Is this some sort of Buddhist supernatural power?" Hikaru asked, genuinely curious. "Or is it Dharma power?"
To a certain extent, this was the first true monk or mage possessing actual 'cultivation' he had encountered since transmigrating. She was not a Demon Slayer wielding breathing techniques, nor a shrine maiden channeling spiritual energy. She was certainly not a native Onmyoji, a class that bastardized continental Yin-Yang philosophies perfected by the great Abe no Seimei centuries ago.
She belonged to Buddhism, a world-spanning religion with unfathomably deep roots.
In this era, the power wielded by monks fundamentally differed from the rest. They used 'Dharma power'.
What is thought is Dharma. What is done is Dharma. What is seen is Dharma. What is realized is Dharma. Whatever the heart wishes for becomes Dharma.
It was also known as Vow power, condensed from a lifetime of unwavering kind thoughts and accumulated good deeds.
Japan boasted countless native monks, but those who actually possessed Dharma power were exceedingly rare. Hikaru had roamed the Kanto region for nearly a year, only catching distant glimpses of one or two genuine practitioners. Most were pitifully weak.
Yet, he had no doubt that the famous Black-Robed Prime Minister sitting before him possessed a formidable reservoir of Dharma power.
Sessai gently shook her head.
"It is neither supernatural power nor Dharma power."
She raised her gaze. Her blue eyes were deep, tranquil, and entirely devoid of hostility.
"It is merely a deduction. When the news of the Tono demons migrating south toward Suruga spread, I knew you would intervene. Those demons pose little threat to you, but they remain a nuisance. Given your established pragmatic style... you would naturally opt for the most effortless solution. You would use the Raikiri enshrined here to eradicate them."
She paused, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "Afterward, Raikiri would have exhausted its accumulated faith power. You would certainly return it to its resting place. From the moment the news reached you, to your departure from Kaede Village, the ensuing battle, and the journey to return the blade... two days. No more, no less."
Hikaru stared at her. This was indeed not a supernatural power. It was raw, terrifying calculation.
But in a world of monsters and magic, a brain this sharp might as well be a supernatural power.
Beneath his oni mask, his eye twitched. 'Where did this humanoid supercomputer come from?' he thought dryly.
"Then, Taigen Sessai," Hikaru said, dropping the formalities. "What is your actual purpose in waiting for me? You didn't sit here for two days just to act as a sword rack."
"Naturally not."
Sessai's thumb flicked a bead. A soft, rhythmic click echoed through the dim, candlelit shrine.
"Lord Kishin Hikaru, this poor monk has waited here to speak of three things."
"Speak."
"The first matter concerns your path."
Her gaze drifted, locking onto the dense, terrifying layer of Yao Qi radiating from his undead form.
"You, who gather both mortal fear and divine faith, ultimately still walk the path of a demon. Your trajectory is quite unique among the myriad demons I have observed. There is an old saying on the Celestial Continent across the sea: the ancient saints could transform eighty times in a single day. This path of continuous transformation seems to align perfectly with the one you currently tread."
Hikaru did not bother denying it. His entire system of evolution and demon classification was built upon that very standard.
Nuwa's eighty transformations.
The Great Sage Equaling Heaven's seventy-two transformations.
"Although I am human and do not fully comprehend the demonic path, Buddhism and the way of demons intersect in certain deep places," Sessai continued slowly. Her voice carried the hypnotic cadence of a chanting sutra. "I can see that your path stretches far ahead, yet you do not know how to reach its absolute end. You do not know how to reach the apex the world calls a Great Yokai."
The monk's eyes were piercingly bright in the gloom.
Hikaru silently conceded that this woman might actually possess some form of clairvoyance. Her assessment was not entirely accurate—it couldn't be, given his system—but she was dangerously close to the mark.
"In this chaotic Sengoku period, demons run rampant and the hearts of men are restless," Sessai said. "Only by standing firmly upon the earth and reaching independently into the heavens can one be called 'Great'. In Buddhism, we call this a 'realm'. One flower, one world; one leaf, one Bodhi. The world perceived by every enlightened being is fundamentally different. It is not a difference of the eyes, but a difference of the heart."
She leaned forward slightly, the wooden beads resting still in her hands.
"It is the cognition that touches your absolute origin. It is a fundamental truth between heaven and earth that you recognize from the very bottom of your soul. If one day your existence ferments to its absolute limit, your next step must be to become the living carrier of the 'truth'you believe in. But before you can carry it, you must first discover what your'truth' actually is."
The shrine fell into a heavy silence. The candlelight flickered, casting long, distorted shadows against the paper screens.
Hikaru smiled.
It was not a mocking expression, but a dry, self-deprecating curve of the lips. It was the smile of a man who had already spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over the exact same question.
"The 'truth' you speak of," Hikaru drawled, his tone unhurried and casual. "You are referring to a core philosophy that permeates one's entire existence, right?"
Sessai's eyes widened a fraction. A flicker of genuine surprise broke her serene facade.
Hikaru did not wait for her to recover.
"The reason a Great Yokai earns that title is not because their Yao Qi is thicker than the rest, nor because they outlive ordinary creatures. Yes, their Yao Qi is dense enough to warp the environment, and yes, they are incredibly difficult to kill. But those are mere symptoms. Their existence itself becomes a localized phenomenon. The essence of that phenomenon is a specific 'philosophy'. That is your so-called truth."
He crossed his arms, the heavy armor plates clinking softly.
"Take Tsuchigumo, for example. He can turn the surrounding world into stone because he views the entire world as nothing more than a fighting arena. To him, the stage is earth, and earth is stone. Or look at Kidomaru. He isn't a Great Yokai yet, but he is an evil ghost clawing his way back from hell. He views himself as a perpetual 'passerby' in the mortal realm. Under the blessing of that twisted philosophy, as long as the environment matches his delusion, he can ignore all physical resistance and continuously accelerate his own speed."
Hikaru leaned against the wooden sword rack, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark.
"This phenomenon-ization, to put it bluntly, is forcing the philosophy you recognize to expand outward, thereby overwriting the rules of the world. You force heaven and earth to acknowledge that you are this specific 'principle'. Eventually, it solidifies into a 'Way'. A truth. At that point, you are no longer just a demon. You become the living source of that truth. Your upper limit of Yao Qi is no longer restricted by the capacity of your physical body. It expands to the absolute limit of your truth's influence—a region, a country, or even the entire world."
Hikaru spoke with fluid ease. These were the exact conclusions he had drawn during his recent periods of bloody grinding and quiet reflection. He had always possessed a terrifying knack for summarizing and aggregating complex data. Transmigration had not dulled that habit.
Sessai did not reply immediately.
She stared at the Oni Samurai leaning casually against the rack. Slowly, a deep look of amazement surfaced in her weathered eyes.
She had prepared an entire lecture. She had planned to painstakingly translate complex Buddhist concepts of 'realm'and'enlightenment' into crude demonic terminology, hoping to gently guide this excessively young Oni Samurai toward a revelation.
One flower, one world. All dharmas return to one. Break attachments to see one's true nature. She had spent hours meditating on these concepts, trying to bridge the gap between human enlightenment and a demon's pursuit of phenomenon-ization.
Yet, he had just laid it all out.
He had explained it more thoroughly, more directly, and far more brutally than she ever could have. It was crude, stripped of all spiritual poetry, but Sessai knew it was the absolute, obvious truth.
Ten thousand volumes of false teachings could not match one sentence of true transmission.
"Your talent is truly terrifying... Yoshimoto was not wrong about you," Sessai finally sighed, a weary smile touching her lips.
Just as he suspected. Imagawa Yoshimoto had orchestrated this little intervention. Hikaru felt no sense of smugness.
"Figuring out the theory is one thing. Executing it is another," Hikaru said dryly. "I know exactly what a Great Yokai needs to ascend. But as for what my own personal 'truth' is... I haven't the faintest idea."
He knew the prerequisites. Before he could even attempt to grasp a philosophy, he had to forge his undead demonic body to absolute perfection. He needed to achieve the resurrection of the twelve transformations. Only when his physical vessel reached the absolute extreme would he possess the qualifications to manifest a philosophy and pursue phenomenon-ization.
Sessai fell completely silent. The prayer beads stopped moving.
She studied the Oni Samurai—a terrifying entity who had only existed in this world for a few short months. His growth rate was monstrous, yet his foundation was steadier than any ancient demon she had ever read about.
"...This poor monk originally believed that, at the very least, I could offer you some guidance on this matter," Sessai said, her voice laced with rare, unfiltered admiration. "I did not expect you to have already dissected the path so clearly."
She shook her head in self-deprecation. "I have been showing off my meager tricks before a true master. I have wasted Yoshimoto's trust."
Hikaru shot her a sideways glance.
"Not necessarily," he replied, his tone softening just a fraction. "The things you said just now... they were quite insightful. Much better than the messy, fragmented theories I had pieced together in my own head."
The corners of Sessai's mouth twitched. She looked incredibly strained, clearly unused to such blunt, awkward comfort.
"Then let that be my sole contribution."
She turned the prayer beads forward one final notch. The click was lighter, more resolute than before.
"I will proceed directly to the second matter," Sessai said, her demeanor shifting. The gentle teacher vanished, replaced by the Black-Robed Prime Minister. "The first matter was a request from Yoshimoto, asking me to guide you. I failed. But the second matter is of grave importance.... it concerns Yoshimoto herself."
Her tone dropped, shifting from a lecture to a cold statement of facts, and finally, to the heavy weight of a final entrustment.
"It is the state of the world," she said softly. "Although you have successfully suppressed Uesugi Kenshin, Takeda Shingen still remains a massive threat. The Shogun in Kyoto and the Onmyo Bureau are currently brewing new imperial edicts. Kyoto, the Daimyo, and the Kanto region are about to become a brutal battlefield for a three—no, a four-way struggle."
She looked at the flickering shadows. "Beyond mortal politics, the ancient balance between humans and demons is fracturing. This is highly likely the final, desperate counterattack from the chaotic era of demons. Kishin Hikaru... you, and Yoshimoto, must tread very carefully."
Hikaru already knew most of this. He had felt the shifting tides of Yao Qi and the mounting tension in the provinces. But the way Sessai delivered the warning felt entirely different.
It felt heavy. It felt like a last will and testament.
"As for the third matter."
Sessai's voice grew even softer. The prayer beads in her hands came to a complete, final stop. She spoke word by word, her voice the only sound remaining in the small shrine.
"My life is nearing its absolute end."
The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint, dying crackle of the candle flames.
Hikaru looked at her. He studied that face, which still retained the smoothness of youth, yet carried such a crushing, world-weary weight in its blue eyes that it looked ready to shatter into dust.
He was not surprised. In the historical records of his past life, Taigen Sessai was indeed destined to leave this world prematurely.
"How long?" Hikaru asked.
"Half a year. Perhaps less." Sessai lowered her head, staring at her hands folded neatly in her lap. "I know my own fate. Yoshimoto is still young. Though she is already the absolute ruler of a province, in my eyes, she will always be that little girl who stole offerings at Rinzai Temple and was punished by me to copy scriptures until her hands cramped. She will always be the little girl who, after I returned from my travels, kept talking endlessly about you."
A very faint, incredibly tender smile touched her voice. It was undeniably clear that she harbored a deep, familial affection for Imagawa Yoshimoto.
"After I die, the Imagawa Clan will lose its direction. Yoshimoto is highly intelligent, she possesses immense courage, and her martial skill is formidable. But she is too young. Her vision is limited, and there will be no one left beside her who can see the grand mix of the world on her behalf."
"For example... Okehazama."
Sessai uttered those three syllables.
Beneath the mask, Hikaru's pupils violently constricted.
Okehazama.
That was a name permanently burned into his memory long before he ever transmigrated. It was the ultimate turning point of the Sengoku Period. Imagawa Yoshimoto would lead a massive army to march on Kyoto, intending to hold the Shogun hostage and dominate the world. But she would be ambushed at Okehazama by the desperate forces of Oda Nobunaga of Owari Province. The Imagawa Clan's entire army would be wiped out, and Yoshimoto would be killed in the mud.
It was one of the most famous, bloodiest battles in history where the few defeated the many.
But that was an event meant for the future. By all logical laws of the world, the Taigen Sessai sitting before him in the present could not possibly know the catastrophic significance of that specific location.
Yet, she had spoken the name.
"In the illusory visions I witnessed while deep in Zen meditation, I saw that place," Sessai's voice was eerily calm. "On the road to Kyoto, there is a narrow gorge called Okehazama. The terrain there is incredibly treacherous and perfectly suited for a devastating ambush. If Yoshimoto marches on Kyoto, that will be the most dangerous place in the world for her."
She took a slow breath. "I have already written this warning into my posthumous strategy for Yoshimoto. But a posthumous strategy is ultimately just an inanimate object. Human hearts change. Situations shift beyond control. Therefore, I would like to ask you to do one thing."
She looked up. Those blue eyes, deep and still as dry wells, stared straight into Hikaru's crimson gaze. She finally laid bare her true intentions.
"When that day comes—if it does come—save her life."
"I do not need you to fight her wars for her. I do not need you to govern her lands. I only ask that in her most dangerous, desperate moment, you give her a helping hand. I know you can do it."
"Because you are someone who does not exist within the decree of fate."
As those heavy words fell, Hikaru finally had a distinct, visceral reaction.
Not within the decree of fate.
'Decree of fate' again. The exact same phrasing the previous generation of Uesugi Kenshin had used. Sessai knew nothing of transmigration, the system, or the butterfly effect. Yet, through her own spiritual insight, she had reached the exact same terrifying conclusion.
Kobe Hikaru was a massive variable that should not exist on this timeline.
The crushing inertia of history would forcefully push everyone toward their preset, bloody destinations. But a true variable could shatter the trajectory. Just as Hikaru had intervened to allow Uesugi Kenshin to successfully pass the mantle—regardless of what future records dictated, in the original trajectory, Uesugi Kenshin only had one generation.
Taigen Sessai had seen through the veil. And so, here she was, begging a demon to save a daimyo.
The silence stretched on for a long time.
The last candle flame in the shrine burned down to its base. The final bit of wick struggled twice in the copper dish, hissed, and died.
In the pitch-black room, only the terrifying, bloody light of Hikaru's Crimson Demon Eyes remained.
"I will do my best," Hikaru said.
Four words. Not a blood oath, but not a refusal either. It was just Hikaru's usual, pragmatic way. Doing his best.
Although it seemed trivial, the Taigen Sessai before him had actually helped him organize his chaotic thoughts regarding the ascension to a Great Yokai. That counted as a small favor. Not a massive one, certainly not worth sacrificing his life over, but a favor still.
Of course, that didn't mean he would sit back and do nothing. Future problems would be dealt with in the future.
Hearing his answer, Taigen Sessai merely closed her eyes.
Her thumb pushed the prayer beads forward one final notch.
"That is enough."
Her goal was achieved. No forcing, no demanding. Just planting the seed and letting the chaotic currents of the world take their natural course.
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