The Back Mountain of the Onmyoryo
I have cried enough.
I can't cry anymore.
Kyoaki Hashimoto's heart was dead. He stared at the sky in a daze.
That was the place where the legendary Seimei Fan had turned into ashes.
Just like Seimei's Fan, Hashimoto's heart was dead too.
The legacy of his ancestors.
The expectations of a millennium.
The hope of the Onmyoryo's grand comeback.
All of it was now like a flower in the water or the moon's reflection in a well—an illusion that shattered at the touch.
He had clearly found it all.
He had finally deduced the truth about the "God" sealed in the mountain!
Gone.
Everything is gone.
But who can I blame?
Hashimoto was stunned. His face, previously as dead as ashes, seemed to twist back to life.
But he no longer possessed the kindness or patience he once had.
Only extreme, burning hatred remained.
That's it.
Who can I blame?
Blame myself. Blame myself for not recognizing the warnings of my ancestors earlier.
Blame the Outsiders! Blame them for becoming pawns of Master Douman because of their greed!
And...
"Yukinoshita..."
His body trembled.
Hashimoto didn't dare to turn his head to look at Yukino.
He was afraid that the hatred in his eyes could not be hidden.
The hatred of blocking the Dao.
The pain of having his ancestors' graves dug up and their legacy destroyed.
This could not be covered up with a few polite words.
But the Yukinoshita family was ultimately under the protection of Lord Mizunotsuki.
So Hashimoto took a step back mentally.
He didn't ask Lord Mizunotsuki to completely abandon or kill the Yukinoshita family.
But…
Yukino Yukinoshita is not worthy of her position!
She can never sit in the position of the Mistress of the "Harem" again!
She doesn't deserve it!
Her family doesn't deserve it!!
Heizo Hattori didn't know how many times he had sighed today.
He silently helped Hashimoto up from the dirt.
The police naturally had no right to formally question Yukino about supernatural affairs yet. But it was impossible for them to show her a good face.
Afterwards, Heizo organized his personnel in an orderly manner.
He took away almost all the civilian insiders at the scene and forced them to sign Level-0 Confidentiality Agreements.
Among everyone there, Yukino had the hardest time.
Because the Onmyoryo staff and the police officers gradually transitioned from the excitement of witnessing a "God" to a cold, bitter anger.
They had pieced together the truth from casual discussions and Hashimoto's wailing.
It turned out that the Onmyoryo was hiding a genuine treasure—the Seimei Fan.
But it was Yukino who had brought a few outsiders to the mountain, completely destroying that hope of inheritance.
Maybe Yukino was not to blame for this matter in essence.
Because, according to the ancient masters, this was originally the plan of Master Douman to destroy the layout of Master Seimei.
However, if there was no Yukino to guide them, could Master Douman's pawns have succeeded so easily?
And the smell of gunpowder here was transmitted directly to the noses of various dignitaries in Tokyo through the live broadcast.
Shiro Suzuki and Gan'an Shinomiya couldn't help but smile at each other across the tea table.
Yukinoshita.
Confused and arrogant…
But this confusion was exactly what they needed.
After all, the Yukinoshitas were just local rich men from the Chiba countryside. They lacked the foundation to keep this overwhelming wealth.
Don't look at the Chaebol heads saying nothing, as if they recognized Reiko Yukinoshita as the "First Seat" in the harem.
In fact, there was a vicious undercurrent.
Don't say that they were too snobbish, or that a group of powerful men shouldn't be engaging in such boring "Palace Fights."
The truth was, they didn't dare think about the cosmic scale of the Gods.
When it came to the realm of Master Seimei and Master Douman, was it useful for mortal businessmen to worry about it?
It would only add to their existential dread. It was better to focus on the present.
What position you sit in determines what resources you get.
The benefits of monopolizing Seiran's favor were too great.
So don't expect the elites to actually play nice. That is something only Saints with no desires would do.
Suginami Ward: Mizunotsuki Residence
The walk from Kyoto to Tokyo should have taken hours, but following the Black Crow, the journey felt like a hazy, space-bending dream.
Yukihime and Koyuki Yagyu walked in absolute silence, their heads bowed. They had left their katanas in the dirt of the Onmyoryo. Without their blades, they felt naked. But carrying weapons into the presence of the "God" who had casually shattered reality was a death sentence.
We are prisoners of war, Yukihime thought, her heart pounding against her ribs. Or perhaps... sacrifices.
In their home world, defeated martial artists were either executed or taken as spoils. They expected no less from an entity as terrifying as Abe no Seimei—or Lord Mizunotsuki, as the mortals called him.
The Crow led them to an unassuming residence in Suginami Ward. But the moment they crossed the threshold, the twins gasped. The spiritual pressure inside the house was dense enough to crush a normal human. The air hummed with pure, suffocating, dominant Yang energy.
A maid with blonde hair (Ai Hayasaka) met them at the door. She looked at their ancient, dusty clothes with a knowing, somewhat pitying smile.
"Lord Mizunotsuki is waiting for you in the master bedroom," she instructed softly. "Do not keep him waiting."
The sliding doors clicked shut behind them, sealing them inside.
Seiran Mizunotsuki sat comfortably on the edge of a massive, dark-sheeted bed. He wasn't projecting the illusion of the ancient Onmyoji right now; he just looked like a devastatingly handsome young man. But the twins weren't fooled. Their martial instincts screamed that the predator in front of them could obliterate them with a flick of his wrist.
Yukihime and Koyuki immediately dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the tatami mats in a perfect, synchronized dogeza.
"Great God," Yukihime spoke, her voice trembling but disciplined. "We are ignorant mortals from a lower realm. We beg for your mercy. Our lives are yours to do with as you please."
Seiran looked down at them. The twin swordswomen were stunning—sharp, athletic, and radiating a fierce, disciplined vitality that the modern women he had encountered lacked. Their identical faces were flushed with fear and exertion.
"Your lives are indeed mine," Seiran said smoothly, the absolute command in his voice sending a heavy shiver straight to their groins. "But what use does a God have for two broken swords?"
Koyuki, the younger twin, bit her lip, gathering her courage. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. The overwhelming heat radiating from him was intoxicating, melting her samurai resolve.
"We have no treasures, Lord Mizunotsuki," Koyuki whispered, her calloused hands slowly reaching for the sash of her hakama. "We only have our bodies. And our absolute loyalty. Please... use us."
Yukihime's breath hitched, but she followed her sister's lead. As martial artists, they respected strength above all else. And there was no strength greater than the man sitting before them. To submit to the pinnacle of existence wasn't a disgrace; it was the ultimate natural order.
The heavy, traditional fabric of their martial arts uniforms fell to the floor. The identical twins knelt before him in absolute vulnerability. Their bodies were masterpieces of physical conditioning—firm, athletic thighs, perfectly toned abdomens, and full, perky breasts tipped with hard, rosy nipples that peaked in the cool air of the bedroom.
Seiran didn't hesitate. The "Twin Lotuses" were an offering he fully intended to consume and break.
"Show me the stamina of your world's martial artists," he commanded.
He pulled Yukihime up by her narrow waist and claimed her lips. The kiss was an absolute invasion. He forced his pure, divine Yang energy directly into her core. Yukihime gasped into his mouth, her eyes widening as a searing, unfamiliar heat bypassed her martial arts training and melted her discipline in an instant. Her athletic thighs trembled as a gush of slick, hot fluid erupted from her cunt, dripping down her legs and pooling on the tatami.
Koyuki didn't wait to be summoned. Driven by the primal aura filling the room, she crawled onto the bed behind Seiran. Pressing her warm, naked skin against his back, she kissed his neck and shoulders with desperate, reverence-fueled hunger, her own pussy weeping with need.
Seiran shed his clothes, revealing a thick, heavy erection that pulsed with divine vitality. The twins stared at his massive, vein-ridged cock with a mix of terror and absolute awe. It was a weapon meant to conquer.
"Serve it," he ordered.
The Twin Lotuses moved in perfect, disciplined synchronization. Yukihime and Koyuki crawled to his lap, their identical faces pressing together as they took him into their mouths. Koyuki's soft tongue swirled around the thick base and heavy balls, while Yukihime took the broad glans deep into her throat, swallowing past her gag reflex with the determination of a warrior. They serviced him flawlessly, their saliva slicking his shaft as they whimpered around his girth.
But oral worship wasn't enough to slake his thirst. Seiran grabbed Yukihime by her long hair, pulling her off his cock, and flipped her onto her back on the dark silk sheets.
"Ah! Lord Mizunotsuki... please..." Yukihime sobbed, her fingers digging into the silk as he grabbed her muscular thighs and pinned them back behind her head—a feat of extreme flexibility only a martial artist could achieve. Her glistening, pink vulva was completely exposed, dripping with her own slick arousal.
Seiran positioned his thick, blunt head against her tight entrance and drove his hips forward.
"NGGH—!"
Yukihime let out a strangled, breathless scream as the massive rod breached her tight, virgin seal, stretching her firm inner walls to their absolute tearing point. The rational samurai was entirely gone, replaced by a pliant, weeping mess of pleasure. He buried himself to the hilt, his groin slapping violently against her ass.
Koyuki couldn't bear to just watch. Kneeling over her sister's head, she eagerly offered her own dripping wet cunt to Seiran's face. He buried his tongue into Koyuki's slit, drinking her sweet, musky juices while he relentlessly pounded Yukihime.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of wet, slapping flesh echoed through the room. Seiran's stamina was not human. He pounded Yukihime's womb with brutal, piston-like thrusts, drawing out a massive, geyser-like squirt that soaked the dark sheets in a puddle of clear fluid.
Before Yukihime could even recover, Seiran withdrew his glistening cock and grabbed Koyuki by the hips.
"Too much... it's too deep... ahhh!" Koyuki cried out beside her sister, her athletic thighs trembling uncontrollably as Seiran switched his relentless pace to her. He flipped Koyuki onto her stomach, lifting her hips to take her from behind. Her tight, untouched passage clamped greedily around his meat, her toned ass jiggling with every brutal impact.
What followed was a battle they were destined to lose.
He broke their defenses piece by piece. He utilized their incredible flexibility, folding them into obscene, demanding postures that would have snapped an ordinary woman in half. He fucked them in tandem, switching between their slick, dripping cunts without missing a beat. He filled them with his energy, overwhelming their heightened senses until they couldn't remember their own names, let alone the sword techniques they had practiced their whole lives. They became an echo chamber of breathless moans, uncontrollable squirting, and desperate pleas for release.
It took hours. The sheer vitality of the Yagyu sisters allowed them to endure far longer than Eri or Reiko ever could, but eventually, even the strongest, most disciplined steel melts in a divine forge.
"Master! Great God, please! We're breaking! Fill us!" Yukihime begged, her face a mask of sweat, tears, and saliva.
"Please... breed us, Lord Mizunotsuki! Give us your seed!" Koyuki sobbed in perfect unison, her pussy clenching around his shaft like a vice.
With a final, deep, womb-wrecking thrust into Koyuki—while his fingers rapidly churned inside Yukihime's soaking slit—Seiran unleashed his divine payload.
"Ahhhhh!"
The twins let out a synchronized, ear-piercing cry as thick, boiling-hot semen erupted deep inside Koyuki's uterus. Seiran quickly pulled out and shoved his leaking, throbbing cock back into Yukihime, emptying the rest of his massive load deep into her womb.
Thick, white cream spilled from their gaping, overused cunts, pooling messily onto the ruined sheets. The Twin Lotuses completely short-circuited. Their eyes rolled back into their skulls, their muscular bodies going entirely, limply slack as the overwhelming surge of pleasure and raw Yang energy finally pushed them into blessed unconsciousness.
Seiran slowly pulled out, watching the thick ropes of his semen slowly drip from their ruined, swollen lips. He looked down at the two exhausted, cream-puff-stuffed warriors passed out in a tangle of limbs on his ruined bed, their bodies twitching randomly in the aftershocks of their defeat.
Not bad, he thought, pulling the sheets over their shivering, semen-slicked forms. Not bad at all.
....
Tsk.
She's just as stubbornly stupid as the original anime character…
Seiran didn't care much about Yukino's mistake.
The whole "Cosmic Chess Game" was written, directed, and acted by him alone. The "Seimei Fan" was just a prop he destroyed for dramatic effect to solidify the lore.
Even if Yukino made a mistake, Seiran wouldn't care too much. Because he didn't need to deliberately reward or punish her; there were plenty of other women vying for her spot to do the punishing for him.
He just needed to show the right attitude at the right time.
As for the old man (Hashimoto) who was currently extremely sad and angry…
He was played like a fiddle by Seiran, which was a little pitiful.
Seiran browsed through the low-level cultivation knowledge he had just extracted from the minds of the Yagyu sisters, as well as Michiko's Sorcery experience.
It just so happens that I can use these inferior manuals to "compensate" Hashimoto and the Police.
"Are you ready to take over?"
Hearing this, Eri Kisaki, who was cleaning up the mess on the bed, was stunned.
The Yagyu Sisters (Yukihime and Koyuki) had been stuffed like cream puffs and were currently passed out in the corner of the massive bedroom.
Seiran couldn't help but be greedy for the service of the "Twin Lotuses." The main thing was that they were martial artists; they were incredibly flexible and could hold any posture required. And they looked exactly the same.
Take over what?
After being stunned, Eri realized what he meant.
Oh.
He wants me to take over Reiko Yukinoshita's current status and power.
Wait! Is she out of power now?
So fast?
Was it because I pleased the Emperor?
Or did the Yukinoshita family make a fatal mistake, and their Phoenix Crown was taken away?
After thinking for a while, Eri deduced it must be the latter.
She had performed well, yes.
But her stamina was far less than the two Yagyu sisters who had just arrived. They were clearly young girls, but their physical endurance as martial artists was monstrous.
Eri looked at the ruined silk sheets. She didn't know if they were shredded by her own manicured nails or the twins' toes.
Compared to these new bed companions, unless Eri completely abandoned her sense of propriety and dignity, she really couldn't compete physically.
"...What should I do?" Eri asked softly.
Seiran gave her the answer.
She should do what she did before.
Eri understood.
She used to be the Queen of the Courtroom. She handled logic, rules, and punishment.
Now she was the Queen of the Harem.
Seiran needed her to handle the political fallout and manage the other factions fairly.
Eri put her hair up silently, rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, and leaned down over his lap.
Damn it… the Mistress of the Harem has to clean up his messes.
Is this reasonable?
Stroking Eri's hair as she went to work, Seiran looked away, his eyes piercing through the walls of the house, gazing across Tokyo.
Now then… where can the little mouse escape to?
Tokyo: The Outskirts
Run! Run!
RUN!
Run back to the Original World!
An old man, who had stolen a sedan, was driving like a maniac. He was sweating profusely, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the road ahead.
What a Hell!
This world is Hell!
He was an Evil Cultivator from the Jiuju Sect, just like Michiko Nishikiori.
But he was used to being afraid of death. He had refused to participate in Michiko's arrogant plan to steal the Treasure.
And as expected, his cowardice saved him.
Michiko was dead. The lives of the Yagyu sisters were unknown.
The power he had felt radiating from Kyoto was beyond imagination. It was even more "Evil" than the Gods recorded in their ancient books!
When he found that there was a slow car blocking the road ahead, he pressed the horn desperately.
Get out of the way!
Get out of the way!
He couldn't stay in this Hell for another moment!
God knows if there are invisible ghosts behind him, staring at the back of his neck.
After returning, I must definitely block the vortex channel to this "Upper World"!
Maybe this world with its tall glass towers and metal carriages was indeed the "Upper World" of Ascension.
But this damn Upper World was too evil!
If you aren't careful, a literal God descends to crush you like an insect.
How the hell do the mortals in this world survive!?
If the Gods have a little dispute, the fallout alone could wipe out a city!
So the Evil Cultivator fled.
He fled very fast.
He had even used magic to figure out how to drive the metal beast.
When he saw his destination—an abandoned shrine on the outskirts of Tokyo—his eyes lit up.
That's right.
The Spatial Rift is still there.
With a distorted expression of hope, he stepped on the accelerator.
Almost.
ALMOST!
There were enough people buried in this alien world. He didn't need to add his own corpse to the fertilizer of the Upper World!
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