Early morning.
The morning sun had just begun to rise, its pale golden rays piercing through the thin mist and spilling over this remote village in Musashi Province.
Kōbe Hikaru pushed open the wooden door of the guest house.
The air was cool, carrying the mixed scent of earth and morning dew.
Last night’s yōkai attack seemed to already be a thing of the past.
The village farmers carried their hoes and baskets on their backs, walking toward the fields in twos and threes.
Passing by the guest house, they noticed the young man standing at the door.
He wasn’t wearing that terrifying Red Oni Mask.
He had pale skin and loose white hair, but he possessed the face of a young human man.
The villagers paused slightly, their eyes darting with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Ultimately, their reactions settled into stiff nods of acknowledgment before they hurried on their way.
Life had to go on.
Hikaru didn’t mind their reactions.
He looked up toward the direction of the shrine.
Above the vermilion Torii Gate, the leaves of the massive Sacred Tree rustled in the morning breeze.
On the platform below it, a figure dressed in white and red stood facing the rising sun in the east.
It was Kikyō.
She wasn’t holding her bow.
Instead, her hands were crossed, holding a Sacred Bell adorned with white paper streamers.
*Ding-ling—*
The crisp chime of the bell traveled far in the morning silence.
She closed her eyes, her feet moving in Ritual Steps, her body flowing in time with the chimes.
The loose white kosode fluttered with her movements, appearing almost translucent in the morning light, faintly outlining the slender yet supple lines of her shoulders and back beneath the fabric.
With every turn, her crimson hakama swirled open like flowing water, clinging to her waist and hips.
It breathtakingly accentuated those curves for a fleeting second before vanishing into the deep shadows of the folds as the hem fell back into place.
It wasn’t a dance.
It was cultivation.
Hikaru could vaguely and indistinctly sense it.
Following her movements, faint, wandering motes of light gathered toward her from the surroundings, merging into that seemingly fragile body.
Then, it transformed into that massive power that made all yōkai feel as though they were burning.
That was the source of Spiritual Power.
Pure, vast, like the midday sun.
Hikaru stood there and watched for a long time.
It was beautiful.
Not just the person, but the flow of that Spiritual Power.
From Hikaru’s perspective, it possessed an aura that harmonized with heaven and earth.
It was a completely different, entirely opposite sensation from the turbid, chaotic Demonic Aura.
He just kept watching.
Waiting.
Until a moment later, the chimes gradually faded.
Kikyō put away the Sacred Bell and slowly exhaled a breath of Turbid Qi, the surging aura around her returning to calm.
She turned around, her gaze crossing the long stone steps to land on Hikaru below.
Hikaru stepped forward and walked up.
Twenty-seven steps, crossed in an instant.
“Morning,” Hikaru greeted.
Kikyō gave a slight nod.
“How did you sleep last night?”
“I’m a yōkai, I don’t need to sleep,” Hikaru replied.
Kikyō froze, seemingly realizing she had forgotten that fact.
But looking at the appearance of the ‘youth’ before her, she couldn’t be blamed for not remembering.
Before she could say anything, Hikaru continued, “Of course, if you mean the recovery of my Demonic Power, thanks to you, I’m quite full.”
Hikaru spoke the truth.
Last night’s Offering was indeed very ‘filling’.
Kikyō didn’t follow up on that, merely watching him quietly, seemingly waiting for him to state his purpose.
But Hikaru originally had no ulterior motive regarding Kikyō—he had come mostly for the Jewel of Four Souls’ Affinity.
Yet now, after watching Kikyō cultivate, an idea suddenly popped into his head.
An absurd idea.
He didn’t dawdle.
“I want to learn.”
The youth-like Ghost Samurai pointed at the Sacred Bell in Kikyō’s hand, then pointed at her.
“I want to learn Spiritual Power.”
The wind stopped.
For the umpteenth time, the emotion known as ‘astonishment’ appeared in Kikyō’s cold eyes.
“You are a yōkai,” she immediately stated.
“Spiritual Power is the power of exorcism, the natural enemy of Demonic Aura.”
Kikyō looked at him as if she were looking at a madman.
“If Spiritual Power is generated within a yōkai’s body, it would be like swallowing red-hot coals.
It serves no purpose other than self-destruction.”
“That applies to ordinary yōkai.”
Hikaru’s expression remained unchanged.
“Although this body is a yōkai, this brain, this consciousness, is still human.”
“Besides, who made the rule that fire and water can’t mix?”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.
I need to know how to deal with this stuff.
Next time I get shot by your arrows, I’ll at least be able to dodge a couple more times.”
Kikyō fell silent.
The reasoning was strange.
But…
She looked at the young Ghost Samurai before her.
His eyes couldn’t be called pure, but they held no malice, only a pure thirst for knowledge.
She hadn’t seen that kind of gaze in many human monks.
Yet, he was a yōkai.
A yōkai.
A very strange yōkai.
“Consciousness is indeed the key.”
After a long time, Kikyō finally spoke.
She placed the Sacred Bell on the stone altar beside her.
As if agreeing to Hikaru’s request, she suddenly began to explain:
“The Qi between heaven and earth is divided into pure and turbid.”
“Turbid Qi sinks, gathering to form yōkai, governing the flesh, desires, and obsessions.”
“Pure Qi rises, condensing into spirit, governing the soul, will, and conviction.”
Kikyō’s cold voice was clear and melodic, echoing across the open space before the shrine.
Hikaru listened intently.
The original story never explained these theories in such detail.
“Ordinary yōkai have chaotic souls, knowing only slaughter and devouring, so they can only absorb Turbid Qi to strengthen their demonic bodies.”
Kikyō looked at Hikaru.
“You are indeed somewhat different.”
“Your soul…
is very complete.”
“Even more resilient than most ordinary humans.”
This was the truth.
After all, he was a transmigrator who had experienced life and death; if his mentality wasn’t stable, he would have broken down long ago.
“So, I want to try,” Hikaru said.
Kikyō pondered for a moment, seemingly making a decision.
“Hold out your hand.”
Hikaru extended his right hand.
Kikyō raised her hand, not touching him directly, but hovering three inches above his palm.
“Close your eyes.”
“Sense your will.”
Hikaru closed his eyes as instructed.
The next instant, he felt a warm current of air radiating from above his palm, drilling in along his arm.
That was Kikyō’s Spiritual Power.
*Hiss—*
Hikaru frowned slightly.
It really hurt.
It felt like boiling water being poured directly onto his nerves.
The Demonic Aura in his body instinctively tried to counterattack, but in the face of that extremely pure Spiritual Power, it was instantly and completely suppressed.
“Don’t resist.”
Kikyō’s voice sounded in his ear.
“That is the body’s instinct.
Use your ‘will’ to control it.”
Hikaru gritted his teeth, forcibly suppressing the urge to fight back.
“This isn’t right.”
Kikyō suddenly took a step forward.
Very close.
Hikaru could even smell the faint scent on her through the simulated breathing driven by his Demonic Aura—he didn’t need to breathe, but he could, just like a corpse shouldn’t move but he still did.
He could also smell that Kikyō’s scent wasn’t the rouge of ordinary women.
It was the lingering scent of burning incense, mixed with the breath of morning dew…
It wasn’t exactly a perfume, but it was clean to the extreme.
A hand pressed against his lower abdomen.
Through the tattered Gusoku armor and clothing, Hikaru could still clearly feel the temperature of that hand and the shape of the palm.
Slender, yet strong.
“Your Qi is too chaotic.”
Kikyō’s voice lacked fluctuation.
“The Demonic Aura is running wild.
Your ‘will’ hasn’t unified it.”
She raised her other hand and pressed it against Hikaru’s back.
A pincer movement.
Two streams of Spiritual Power surged in simultaneously, forming a circuit within his body.
“Feel this path,” she said.
Hikaru opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was that breathtakingly beautiful face right in front of him.
Her porcelain-white skin was flawless, her long eyelashes lowered, hiding the emotions in her eyes.
Their breaths were almost intertwined—although Hikaru’s breath was simulated, it still existed.
He was a head taller than Kikyō.
Looking down now, his gaze uncontrollably slipped lower.
Past the slightly open collar, he saw a glimpse of delicate, almost transparent collarbones, and below that…
the snowy white curves tightly wrapped in the white kosode, trembling slightly with her breathing.
Further down was her hand pressed against his lower abdomen.
Because they were so close, the fabric of the red hakama bunched up against the side of his thigh.
He could faintly feel the warmth and soft touch of a woman’s thigh beneath that layer of cloth.
He could even imagine the slender, firm legs hidden deep within the hakama by layers of fabric, and the deeply outlined shadows.
Hikaru’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
He was a normal man.
Even if his body was cold now, his heart was hot.
In this posture, at this distance.
To say he had no thoughts would mean he’d have to be a eunuch.
But there was no expression on his face.
Not even the slightest ripple in his eyes.
The Ghost Samurai’s deadpan attribute played a massive role at this moment—
“Focus.”
Kikyō seemed to notice the slight disarray in his breathing and glanced up at him.
That glance was very faint.
Yet very sharp.
As if it could see right through the romantic thoughts beneath his skin.
“Your Demonic Power is flowing too fast,” she pointed out.
“The Spiritual Power entering my body stimulated it,” Hikaru lied without changing his expression.
“It hurts a bit.”
Kikyō didn’t expose him, nor could she.
Perhaps in her eyes, this was indeed just the demonic body’s rejection reaction to Spiritual Power.
She didn’t withdraw her hands; instead, she increased the output of Spiritual Power, guiding that faint trace of Pure Qi to circulate within Hikaru’s body.
“Then continue,” Kikyō said.
“Close your eyes and try to sense it yourself.”
Hikaru closed his eyes again.
This time, without Kikyō’s guidance, he could only grope around based on the feeling from that brief moment.
It was hard.
Extremely hard.
That Pure Qi was like the stars in the night sky; he knew it was there, but he just couldn’t grasp it.
Moreover, the Demonic Aura in his body kept interfering with his perception.
Time passed bit by bit.
The sun gradually rose.
Hikaru’s temples throbbed.
That was the side effect of the clash between Demonic Aura and Spiritual Power.
“Enough.”
Kikyō’s voice rang out.
“That’s all for today.”
Hikaru opened his eyes.
He could feel his physical condition was terrible.
The Demonic Aura in his body was like a stirred-up mess, darting around wildly.
“Your Demonic Aura is in disarray,” Kikyō said.
“You need to rest for a few days to recover.”
“…Yeah,” Hikaru nodded.
Although he failed, he didn’t feel disappointed.
He never expected to succeed on the first try anyway.
And that time just now…
*Cough.*
Better not think about it.
“Go back and rest.”
Kikyō stood up, brushing non-existent dust off her clothes.
“Are we continuing tomorrow?” Hikaru asked.
Kikyō glanced at him.
“You still want to continue?”
“Of course,” Hikaru said as a matter of fact.
“I said I wanted to learn.
How could I give up after trying just once?”
Kikyō fell silent for a moment.
“…As you wish.”
She turned and walked toward the shrine.
The white top and red hakama were particularly striking in the sunlight.
Hikaru watched her back.
Although his purpose for learning Spiritual Power was indeed to get stronger…
If he could get this close to Kikyō every day…
Then it wasn’t a loss.
He shook his head, suppressing the thought.
He turned and walked toward the empty house at the village entrance.