Chapter 30: A Beacon in the Night
That night, half the sky over Musashi Province was set ablaze.
The sacred arrow that had blasted the Kamaitachi into nothingness unleashed a cataclysm of spiritual power. The resulting shockwave was so immense that it not only scoured the land of all Yao Qi within a ten-mile radius, but also lit a beacon in the heavens—a lamp that could not be ignored in this chaotic world.
...
Kyoto.
The heart of the nation, the center of the world in the East.
Here, nestled in the inner city near the palace gates, ran the prestigious Tsuchimikado Ōji. This avenue was home to the Bureau of Onmyō, the clandestine core of the nation's spiritual defense and the shadow government of its mystical affairs.
And at this very moment, high atop a towering observatory within its walls, a figure stood against the chill of the morning breeze.
An old man, draped in a pristine white hunting robe, was fiddling with an complex armillary sphere, a priceless artifact passed down from the Tang Dynasty of the Celestial Empire. His hair was a shock of silver-grey, and the heavy bags beneath his eyes spoke of countless sleepless nights spent charting the movements of the stars.
In his weathered hands, the copper rings of the sphere spun smoothly, mapping the cosmos. Then, abruptly, they caught. The mechanism shuddered to a halt, stuck on a single point.
"The heavens are in disarray," the old man murmured, his voice raspy with age.
Beside him, a young onmyōji, holding a heavy tome for recording celestial phenomena, leaned closer. "What is in disarray, Master? Is another daimyo marching to war?"
"What is war compared to this?" the old man scoffed, pointing a trembling finger toward the northeastern sky.
According to all their past observations, that sector of the heavens should have been a dim and unremarkable star field. But right now, it was aglow with an unsettling, ghastly white light.
"Something has manifested in Musashi Province," he stated.
"A Great Yōkai?"
"Far more troublesome than a Great Yōkai." The old man reset the armillary sphere, but his expression remained so grave it was almost grim. "That is a power capable of altering the very spiritual veins of a region. It has happened only once before, centuries ago... caused by that god-chosen shrine maiden, Midoriko."
The young onmyōji's brush froze mid-stroke.
Midoriko.
The name was a forbidden topic within the Bureau of Onmyō. A shrine maiden from some unnoteworthy, rural background who had single-handedly shamed this entire institution of noble-born, official onmyōji, leaving them unable to lift their heads in her presence. The same woman who ultimately created that unending headache: the Shikon Jewel.
And now, the Master was surely speaking of that very artifact.
"That... thing... hasn't it always been well guarded?" the young man asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Who can say?" the old man snorted, his gaze fixed on the white light that still stained the distant horizon. "But given this scale of purification energy, and emanating from that direction... if it isn't the Shikon Jewel, then it can be nothing else."
He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "However... whether this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen. For now, we will simply observe."
The young onmyōji nodded, dutifully making a note in his log.
The old man stared at the horizon, his face a mask of deep gravity. If the yōkai grew too strong, no one would have an easy time.
And as everyone knew... Kyoto was far from peaceful.
...
On the other side of the capital, buried deep in the earth, lay a luxurious palace of eternal shadow.
No moonlight ever graced this place; the only illumination came from ever-burning lamps fueled by thick oil, their flames crackling and spitting in the gloom. A heavy, cloying scent of blood hung thick in the air.
Behind layers of heavy silk curtains, a woman was seated. A magnificent twelve-layered robe, a garment only the highest-ranking noblewomen of the era were entitled to wear, spread across the floor around her, its fine fabric now stained with specks of dark, drying blood.
She held a lacquer tray. Upon it sat a liver, freshly ripped from the belly of some unknown creature, still steaming in the cool air.
"Painful," the woman sighed. She placed the organ in her mouth and swallowed it whole without chewing, then clutched her stomach, her perfect brows knitting into a frown.
"Lady Hagoromo Gitsune?" a voice called from beyond the curtains. Kneeling there was a hunched little old man with a massive, misshapen head that made him look like a comical gourd.
"That light... it's blinding," the woman said, gesturing vaguely toward the east. Even separated by thick layers of earth and stone, she could still feel it—a scorching sensation that threatened to burn away all filth.
It was making the 'child' in her womb very uncomfortable.
"It is coming from the direction of Musashi Province," the little old man reported, kowtowing. "Some blind fools are stirring up trouble in that area, seemingly over that jewel."
"A jewel... The Shikon Jewel?" The woman's tongue darted out, licking a stray drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. It was forked, like a snake's, or perhaps a fox's. "It seems those fellows can no longer keep it hidden. A good thing. It will help my child grow faster."
Her voice turned sharp. "But that light is so very annoying."
Behind her, in the deep shadows, nine black tails flickered, slapping irritably against the ground and cracking the hard stone slabs with each sharp impact.
"Investigate it," the woman commanded. "If the jewel is real, seize it. If someone is merely showing off a fake..."
She smiled, revealing two sharp, predatory canines.
"Then devour the one holding it as well. It will serve as nourishment for my child."
"As you command, Lady Hagoromo Gitsune," the little old man replied, burying his head even lower.
In the darkness around them, countless pairs of eyes lit up, glinting with malice. They were the Hyakki Yagyō, the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons lurking in the shadows of the capital. They were waiting. Waiting for the being gestating within the womb of the one they called Hagoromo Gitsune.
Waiting for the 'King' destined to return to this world.
...
Tokaido, at an open-air tea stall by the roadside.
The owner was busy cleaning tables, muttering curses under his breath. "The times are truly chaotic. That commotion last night scared my donkey so badly it stopped eating."
A young man sat alone in a corner. His golden hair was combed back—an exceedingly rare color. In this era, one with such hair was either a foreigner from across the sea or not human at all. What's more, his hair seemed to float, as if it were the unfurling blade of a scythe. He wore a striped kimono of fine make, suggesting nobility, yet he carried no katana, the cherished symbol of that class. Instead, a simple smoking pipe was tucked into his sash.
Several empty plates were stacked on his table.
The young man tilted his head back, looking toward the eastern sky. "Owner, what is that?" he asked, pointing to the white afterglow that had yet to dissipate, its light catching the clouds and painting them in mottled colors like a faded scroll.
"Who knows," the owner grunted without looking up. "As long as it doesn't affect us common folk, that's all that matters."
"That's true," the young man mused. He took a long puff from his pipe and blew a series of perfect smoke rings. "But that was quite an interesting fight."
He could tell. There was the scent of wind on the air—a Kamaitachi. He knew the fellow, had even tried to recruit him once, but was rebuffed before he could even get close. He could never mistake that irritable aura. And from the looks of it now, it seemed the creature was dead.
"Interesting," the young man said, standing up. He stretched languidly, his joints popping. "I was just worrying that I hadn't found any decent companions on this trip. That Yao Qi, intertwined with such terrifying spiritual power over there... that's quite interesting, too."
He turned and simply walked away.
The owner, still wiping the table, was completely unaware that his guest had already slipped off. It wasn't until the young man was a good hundred feet down the road that the owner suddenly realized.
"Hey! Customer! You haven't paid yet!"
The owner rushed out from behind his stall, only to find the road completely empty. There wasn't even a ghost in sight.
"What in the world..." The owner rubbed his eyes, bewildered. The man was clearly sitting right there just a moment ago.
Further down the road, under the shade of a tree, the young man glanced back, a confident, arrogant arc playing on his lips.
Eating and drinking for free. This was his ability, and also the 'Fear' he left in his wake, an influence that made others overlook his very presence.
"Musashi Province, eh..." He tucked his smoking pipe back into his sash, his steps light and unhurried. "Let's go take a look. Perhaps I can recruit someone powerful into my future Hyakki Yagyō."
...
Musashi Province, in a small, nameless village.
Hikaru's expression shifted slightly as he, too, looked up at the lingering trails of light in the sky.
He didn't need to guess. He knew the commotion last night must have attracted the attention of many—the mages, monks, and onmyōji of this era, not to mention the countless yōkai, both great and small, who would surely seize this opportunity to act.
But it didn't matter.
As long as Kikyo was by his side, with his own power to back her up, Hikaru was confident. As long as they didn't run into a true Great Demon of legend, retreating safely would be no problem at all.
That wasn't the point right now. The point was—
He looked at the large iron pot in front of him. A wild chicken was stewing inside, bubbling away merrily. The rich, savory aroma was mouth-watering. Kaede was squatting nearby, practically drooling, while Kikyo calmly added another piece of firewood to the stove.
After fighting all night, hunger was inevitable.
"Is it ready yet?" Hikaru asked.
Although his [Bloodthirsty Immortality] meant he didn't need to eat, he still preferred to when he could. He was a demon, an oni, but his mind was still human. He still had desires, and that included his appetite. It wasn't just about staving off hunger; it was about the simple pleasure of a good meal.
"Almost," Kikyo replied without looking up.
Sunlight streamed through the window, catching her figure and making her clean white robes seem to shine.
Hikaru leaned against a wooden pillar, quietly watching the scene unfold.
The world was vast. Troubles were many.
But at least in this moment, this pot of chicken soup smelled absolutely divine.
Since transmigrating, it was a rare and precious thing for him to have such a leisurely, peaceful moment.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]