Chapter 66: Sir Samurai, The Times Have Changed
As the days passed, the long-awaited day finally arrived for all the various factions.
To celebrate the Shogun's birthday, the entire city of Kyoto was adorned with lanterns and decorations lining the streets, as if preparing for a grand festival.
Yet, the faces of the pedestrians showed no trace of joy, a clear indication that General Kubo lacked popular support.
In contrast, the lords and nobles invited to the banquet wore broad smiles on their faces.
A parade of floats winding through the city played festive music, with geishas dancing cheerfully on the decorated carts.
The noisy sounds from the street drifted into a quiet swordsmanship dojo tucked away in a corner.
A door slowly creaked open.
Mord, who had secluded himself in the dojo for several days, had finally emerged.
Shinpachi, who had been guarding the entrance, found himself momentarily unable to look directly at Mord, who now felt like an impeccably sharp, legendary sword.
"My lord."
Mord nodded, signaling for the other not to follow, and walked alone out of the dojo.
He had spent seven days and nights in relentless meditation on the way of the sword within that dojo. Now, all he lacked was practical experience—the enlightenment and refinement that comes only from combat. To become a true master, this was a path one must walk.
And today, the timing was perfect.
"Mikoto, if it were you... where would you hide in a place your opponent would never think to look?"
"I would hide right under their nose."
Mikoto's answer from that day still echoed in his ears.
Hiding a lamp under a bushel—he had actually forgotten that principle.
By his calculations, Hanzo had only just learned Nen abilities at this point. Given his current strength, the likelihood of him successfully escaping the heavily guarded palace with an underage princess was extremely slim.
Furthermore, after the incident, the two seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.
If they had truly escaped the palace, it would be impossible to leave absolutely no trace behind, especially considering General Kubo's spies were spread throughout the nation.
With these thoughts in mind, Mord navigated several streets, following the parade of floats, and arrived at the imperial palace located in the center of Kyoto—now the Shogunate.
Standing at the end of the street, Mord gazed at the palace and couldn't help but shake his head. One could only say it was truly fit for a nation's imperial palace.
Upon the towering walls, soldiers stood guard at intervals of several dozen meters, the blades in their hands glinting with a cold, sharp light under the sun.
Sweeping his En roughly across the wall, besides the visible sentries, he detected several hidden posts, all positioned in blind spots.
An ordinary person would never notice them.
"Tsk, tsk, the defenses are truly tight," Mord withdrew his gaze, though this was exactly what he had anticipated.
Today was General Kubo's birthday; naturally, the security at the Shogunate would be even tighter than usual.
Mord glanced at the bustling celebratory crowd at the main entrance. All guests attending the birthday banquet were required to present invitation credentials for entry, with guards conducting thorough body searches before permitting passage.
Obtaining an invitation posed little difficulty for Mord, yet every attendee represented Kyoto's current elite. His unfamiliar face would inevitably draw unwanted attention the moment he appeared.
He turned into a secluded alley and, relying on En's perception, identified the least fortified section of the perimeter. After a quick upward glance, his figure blurred into an electric flash that cleared the wall effortlessly.
The stationed guards remained completely unaware.
Upon landing, Mord's form flickered repeatedly before vanishing from sight entirely.
...
Main Hall.
The formerly joyous birthday banquet had abruptly transformed into a tense confrontation.
"Traitor Kubo! Your reign ends today!"
From among the performing geishas, wine-serving attendants, and samurai guests, figures began rising throughout the hall.
Weapons materialized from concealed locations, all directed toward General Kubo seated at the head table.
The General's expression remained unperturbed, as if he had anticipated this very scenario. "Flushing out you rats from your hiding places proved quite challenging," he addressed the crowd below. "I had no choice but to devise a method to make you reveal yourselves."
A trap?!
Upon hearing General Kubo's words, panic flashed across some faces in the crowd, threatening to dissolve their coordination.
A samurai stepped forward.
"What does it matter if it's a trap? We came prepared to sacrifice ourselves for righteousness. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—the traitor stands right before us."
He drew his katana.
The middle-aged samurai's words quickly stabilized the gathering. This was Mochizuki Kenko, renowned throughout Japan as a Sword Master.
Having received favors from the former daimyo in his youth, today's action represented repayment of that debt.
His confidence in his blade remained absolute—capable of slicing through the hardest steel, let alone a mere human neck.
"Traitor Kubo, your overconfidence betrays you. At this distance, taking your life shall be effortless."
Sword raised, Mochizuki charged toward General Kubo.
The next instant.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat————
Sudden machine gun fire erupted.
Curtains behind General Kubo swept aside, revealing two heavy machine guns that unleashed devastating fire upon Mochizuki and his righteous comrades.
Amidst spraying gunfire, blood blossoms scattered through the air.
Caught in such concentrated, unexpected firepower, even Mochizuki sustained multiple hits. His upraised sword never completed its descent before he collapsed before General Kubo.
In Jappon, samurai capable of projecting sword energy were honored as Sword Masters.
This sword energy essentially constituted Nen.
Yet technically, these Sword Masters couldn't be considered true Nen users, as they employed this power unconsciously.
Through relentless pursuit of supreme swordsmanship, they subconsciously awakened their latent potential, channeling aura through their blades.
This conclusion Mord had drawn from studying Shinpachi's father's swordsmanship manuscripts.
Likely only Jappon's pinnacle Great Sword Masters could consciously control this power at will.
Mochizuki clearly hadn't reached such heights. Without protective Ten, his flesh remained vulnerable—instantly pierced by bullets.
He lay collapsed in a pool of blood, quickly losing his breath.
He was already dead beyond any doubt.
General Kubo nodded inwardly as he surveyed the hall filled with corpses, quite satisfied with the heavy weapons delivered by the Teno Family. The several heavy Gatling machine guns before him were merely samples.
After the agreement was reached, a continuous supply of firearms would follow.
With these firearms in his possession, his regime would grow increasingly stable.
This nation no longer needed samurai.
At this moment, countless thoughts flashed through Kubo's mind. Just then, a figure suddenly pierced through the adjacent wall, a gleaming dagger in hand aimed like lightning at Kubo's throat.