Chapter 211: Five Boats Under His Feet
In the days that followed, Hikaru did not allow himself a single moment of idle rest.
In truth, he simply could not afford the luxury of stagnation. Deep within his demonic physique, four of his internal organs hummed with relentless energy. Fire surged upward while water cascaded down; metal held its rigid restraint as wood expanded with vibrant life. Yet, whenever this elemental circulation reached the final gap, the energy bled away into nothingness. Without the grounding presence of Earth residing in the spleen, his Five Elements remained fractured and incomplete. This glaring loophole in the internal circulation of his Asura Transformation meant he would forever fall short of achieving perfect bodily quality, leaving him unable to fully return to a state of true, living flesh.
Fortunately, the perfect medium to bridge this gap rested right at his fingertips.
It was the colossal greatsword left behind by the fallen mercenary Bankotsu—a newly born Demonic Tool steeped in slaughter. Hikaru stepped into the dim corner of the room and hauled the massive weapon from the shadows.
The blade possessed an absurd, gravity-defying weight. Even in its past life as a mundane weapon of ordinary iron, it had required the combined strength of three fully grown, muscular men just to lift it off the ground. It defined the very concept of heaviness. Now, saturated with a suffocating density of human resentment, feral demonic power, and the lingering fear of its countless victims, it had become a burden that no ordinary human—and very few demons—could ever hope to wield.
Its sheer size was equally imposing. The flat of the blade stood nearly as tall as Hikaru himself, measuring a full two fingers thick across its spine. The metal bore a sickly, pale hue from hilt to tip, terminating in a dull, brutally thick edge. This was not a weapon designed for the elegant, slicing arcs of a traditional katana. It was forged for one singular purpose: to crush, shatter, and obliterate everything in its path. It was the pure, unadulterated crystallization of blunt-force violence.
Bankotsu had dragged this monstrous slab of iron all the way from the Kanto Region to the Northeast, using it to behead a hundred men and butcher a thousand demons. Bathed continuously in oceans of blood and steeped in the suffocating miasma of Yao Qi, the ordinary iron had slowly mutated, shedding its mortal origins to become a newly born Demonic Tool.
To Hikaru's pragmatic mind, Banryu represented the absolute pinnacle of an 'Earth' medium. Its entire combat philosophy relied on crushing opponents beneath its overwhelming weight, perfectly mirroring the immovable, crushing heaviness of Earth., its very ascension to a demonic state stemmed from its ability to absorb and transform endless waves of Turbid Qi and battlefield resentment. The metaphysical concepts of absorption and transformation were deeply rooted in the domain of the Earth element.
Yet, despite its established status as a Demonic Tool, Hikaru had refused to use it as it was. He had painstakingly repaired the fractured metal, or more accurately, he had completely recast it. He purged the greatsword from its spiritual core down to its physical substance, mirroring the exact process he had used to remelt Onikiri. He turned the weapon inside out, stripping away the lingering traces of its former master to forge a brand-new demon blade that answered only to him, all while carefully preserving the brutal essence of its original power.
The translucent system panel had long since materialized in his vision.
[Greatsword Banryu]
[Quality: Demonic Tool]
[Description: Originally a colossal war sword forged from ordinary iron. It ascended to the rank of a Demonic Tool after enduring the brutal slaughter ritual of the Hundred Man Slayer and Thousand Demon Slayer. It has been thoroughly soaked in the blood of humans and demons alike, absorbing the suffocating resentment and fear of the fallen.]
[Current Favorability: 0 (Indifferent)]
The evaluation was refreshingly straightforward.
Hikaru rested his pale palm against the cold, flat surface of the blade and ruthlessly injected a concentrated stream of his Yao Qi into the metal. The greatsword reacted instantly. It vibrated violently, the massive amplitude of the tremor nearly bucking the heavy weapon right out of his grip.
The system panel flickered, translating the weapon's crude will.
[Banryu: Weakling, get lost.]
Hikaru's expression remained entirely deadpan. A typical, muscle-brained brute.
However, this lack of refinement suited his tastes perfectly. The simpler the entity, the faster he could grind its favorability and conquer it. There was no need for delicate coaxing, no tedious requirement to handle a convoluted emotional journey. He merely needed to flood it with overwhelming demonic power, display an absolute superiority in strength, force it to acknowledge him as its master, and then drag it onto the battlefield.
After all, if there was one thing Hikaru was absolutely certain of, it was that he was no weakling.
Banryu desired only one thing: Power. And power was something Hikaru possessed in terrifying abundance.
The dark, concentrated Yao Qi of his Asura Transformation erupted from his palm, piercing directly into the core of the blade. This was no ordinary energy. It was the immense, suffocating density of a Ninth Transformation demon, exponentially magnified by the triple-organ amplification of his Asura Transformation projection. In terms of sheer, raw quantity, the torrent of energy rivaled the Turbid Qi of an ordinary demon that had survived its twelfth transformation.
Confronted with this abyssal depth of power, Banryu's violent vibrations stalled for a fraction of a second.
The defiant hum died in its throat. The massive blade quieted down, settling heavily against the floorboards. It had submitted. It was a reckless, bloodthirsty brute, but it possessed the primal instincts of a warrior who bowed only to absolute strength.
[Banryu: Favorability +1]
[Current Favorability: 1 (Aware)]
Compared to the rough, wonderfully straightforward nature of Banryu, his other current project was proving to be an absolute headache.
The Black Pearl.
Forged by the legendary oyster demon Hosenki, this unassuming gem was the literal key to the underworld. It was the very same pearl that had once been sealed deep within Inuyasha's right eye socket, acting as the gateway to the Great Dog Demon Toga's grave. More, it served as the spatial coordinate to the legendary sword, Tessaiga.
Sesshomaru had ventured into the tomb once, failed to draw the Tessaiga from its pedestal, and, deeming the pearl entirely useless to his ambitions, had casually tossed it to Hikaru. It appeared as nothing more than a pitch-black bead roughly the size of a fingernail. Its surface was unnervingly smooth and cool to the touch, shimmering with a microscopic, iridescent light when caught in the moon's glow.
The favorability displayed on the system panel hovered at a stubborn 9.
From the moment the aristocratic dog demon had discarded it into his hands until now, that number had barely twitched. The reason was infuriatingly simple: the fundamental nature of this artifact was the exact, polar opposite of Banryu.
[Black Pearl indicates: No need for rude force. Please treat with courtesy.]
It behaved exactly like a spoiled aristocrat. Every single one of its system responses exuded an aura of haughty reserve and calculated distance. It possessed the temperament of a sheltered young lady from a wealthy noble family, sitting demurely behind a bamboo curtain, offering a perfectly measured bow to her guests while absolutely refusing to utter a single, unnecessary syllable.
Injecting raw demonic power to force submission? It flatly refused to accept it.
Flooding it with the chilling power of fear? It completely ignored the sensation.
Attempting direct, pragmatic dialogue? It would only reply with a single, dismissive word: Rude.
Hikaru had wasted three entire days carefully analyzing its insufferable temper. He finally deduced that what the Black Pearl demanded above all else was 'respect'. It harbored zero desire to be wielded as a mere tool; instead, it expected to be elevated to a position of deep importance and treated with absolute, ritualistic solemnity.
Only when it felt genuinely 'cherished' would its favorability begin its agonizingly slow climb. This revelation perfectly explained why the numbers had stagnated for so long. He had been carrying the priceless gateway to the underworld stuffed in his pocket while sleeping out in the dirt and rain. How could a noble artifact possibly appreciate such barbaric treatment?
Adjusting his strategy, Hikaru had carefully placed the Black Pearl atop a pristine wooden altar, positioning it respectfully beside a polished bronze mirror. Now, every single time he walked past the shrine, he made a point to stop and offer a polite, measured nod of greeting. He was essentially treating a rock like an honored guest.
Three days of this humiliating routine finally yielded results.
[Black Pearl: Favorability +1. Current Favorability: 10.]
It was a pitiful increase, but it was rising. This particular conquest simply could not be rushed. After all, this unassuming treasure held the power to tear open the boundary to the rift world of the underworld. If he successfully maxed out its favorability... the resulting system bonus would undoubtedly be unimaginably massive.
Perhaps, by fully assimilating its essence, he could trigger a fundamental evolution in his demonic eyes. He might gain the ability to pierce through the veil of illusion and reality with a mere glance, or even gaze directly across the absolute boundary separating life and death. And even before reaching that pinnacle, conquering the pearl was the crucial first step in his grand plan to secure the Tessaiga for himself.
Aside from these two high-maintenance artifacts that required entirely new romantic strategies to appease, Hikaru possessed a growing arsenal of both 'new'and'old' items.
Chief among them was Onikiri. The blade had long since evolved into a true demon, possessing a sharp, bloodthirsty self-awareness that made it an extension of his very soul. It was a weapon he would never, under any circumstances, unequip.
Beyond his primary blade, there were the Nekomata Claws and the Poison Jiao Scale. He had successfully grinded the favorability of both items to their absolute peak; the system numbers could climb no higher. Their unique abilities and elemental affinities had already been permanently merged into his own demonic physiology. Yet, the physical items themselves remained intact, retaining a faint, lingering trace of their original spirituality.
While carrying them into battle was now entirely redundant, leaving such spiritually rich materials to collect dust in a corner felt like a tragic waste of resources. Therefore, Hikaru carefully arranged them within the central shrine dedicated to 'Kishin Mitama no Mikoto'. This was his personal domain—a sacred hall adorned with wooden plaques, polished bronze mirrors, basins of crystal-clear water, and the flickering, warm glow of eternal lamps.
The pure, unadulterated faith of the villagers from the surrounding lands flowed into this space day and night, channeled smoothly through the shrine's complex Barrier network. Simultaneously, the chilling, strange tales of the Oni Samurai's fearsome reputation radiated outward, using this very altar as their epicenter. This precise location—where the warm light of human faith violently collided with the freezing shadow of demonic fear—created a singularity. It was the point with the absolute highest concentration and the most flawless balance of Yao Qi and spiritual energy in the entire region.
Placing his retired artifacts here was akin to burying dormant seeds in the world's most fertile soil. They would be continuously infiltrated by the purifying warmth of faith and ruthlessly nourished by the dark, potent power of fear. Given enough time marinating in this dual-energy crucible, even the most mundane of objects possessed the potential to undergo a miraculous transformation.
Moving with deliberate care, Hikaru placed the Nekomata Claws on the left side of the wooden altar. He then set the iridescent Poison Jiao Scale on the right.
Having finished organizing his armory, Hikaru stepped back. His crimson eyes swept over the items he still carried on his person, and he suddenly fell into a state of deep, calculating thought. The system panel hovering in his peripheral vision was densely packed with a chaotic array of favorability metrics.
Onikiri: Maximum favorability.
Yomikiri: Maximum favorability.
Banryu: Favorability 1, heavy as a mountain.
A pattern began to emerge in his mind. The three distinct blades seemed to perfectly correspond to one of his internal organ attributes. Onikiri represented Fire, its essence forged by gathering the volatile heat of blood-fire. Yomikiri belonged to Metal, its sharp, cutting nature formed by drawing upon the piercing breath of the lungs. Banryu stood as the undisputed avatar of Earth, its crushing gravity transformed into reality through the slaughter of hundreds of men and thousands of demons.
When he unleashed his Asura Transformation, these three Demonic Tools were undoubtedly capable of being projected and magnified simultaneously by his extra limbs. By using the weapons as physical outlets, the raw output of the Five Elements Yao Qi generated by his Asura's internal organs could be pushed to its absolute, theoretical limit.
Theoretically, if perfectly balanced, this setup could construct a flawless elemental circulation entirely outside of his physical body. If he succeeded, he could potentially achieve something monstrous. Even without ascending to the legendary Thirteenth Transformation, he could manifest domain capabilities that approached the terrifying, materialized reality of a true Great Yokai like Kidomaru.
But reality was a harsh mistress. Currently, Hikaru only possessed three elemental anchors. Three blades were obviously insufficient to complete the true cycle of the Five Elements. Five internal organs corresponded to the Five Elements. Therefore, the Five Elements required five distinct Demonic Tools to anchor them.
He needed... five weapons.
He required five Demonic Tools, each perfectly attuned to a specific element, to be projected onto the extra arms of his Asura Transformation. Only then could he push the synergistic power of his Five Elements and Five Organs to the absolute extreme.
He was still missing two corresponding Demonic Tools...
His brow furrowed slightly. No, that wasn't entirely accurate. He was only missing one.
Raikiri, which inherently belonged to the Wood element, could perfectly serve as his 'Wooden Blade'. It was currently still in the slow, agonizing process of transforming, but once it fully evolved into a complete divine artifact, it would slot into the formation flawlessly.
By this pragmatic calculation, he was only missing a single piece of the puzzle: a Water sword.
Fresh, ambitious ideas began to rapidly emerge in his mind. A new, overarching plan took shape simultaneously, the logistics clicking into place with cold precision. He made his decision.
Relying on the rare materials he had already hoarded, the moment his five internal organs were fully formed and stabilized, he would personally forge his fifth Demonic Tool.
By that time, his Tenth Transformation would be entirely complete. The elusive 'Three Souls' required for the Eleventh Transformation would naturally follow closely behind. After that came the ultimate hurdle—the Twelfth Transformation. Once his fractured essence merged into a single, perfect whole, he would finally cross the threshold. He would truly come back to life.
When that day arrived, what he possessed would not merely be the perfect physical quality of the Twelfth Transformation. He would wield a terrifying combat power that infinitely approached—or perhaps even rivaled—that of a genuine Great Yokai.
From a wandering ghost to a corporeal demon. From the cold abyss of death to the warmth of life.
The path laid out before him was truly as clear and unobstructed as it could possibly be.
He just needed time. That, and a great deal more dangerous exploration and careful research.
In the meantime, he had other companions to manage.
Yura of the Hair—the demonic red comb whose favorability he had long since maxed out—hung securely at his waist. The necklace strung with seven stones clinked softly against his armor as he shifted his weight. Ever since her attempted physical transformation had been violently scared back into the comb by a single pulse of Kikyo's overwhelming spiritual power, the demoness had been significantly better behaved.
Occasionally, the comb would vibrate against his hip, stubbornly transmitting a defensive word or two through their mental link.
[Yura of the Hair: I am not afraid of her.]
Hikaru ignored her completely.
Reaching out once more, his fingers brushed against the hidden compartment built into the base of the altar. He withdrew the final item in his collection.
The Tahoto Shrine Maiden Prayer Beads.
It was the sole relic left behind by the dark priestess, Tsubaki. The dense, suffocating resentment that had originally clung to the wood had been thoroughly purified by Kikyo's radiant spiritual power during their last encounter. Since that day, the beads had been left entirely idle.
It was a simple string of dark brown wooden prayer beads. The complex spiritual patterns carved into the surface of the wood had been heavily eroded by the passage of sun and moon, their edges worn smooth and blurry. Yet, if one possessed the senses to look deep into the core of each bead, there remained an extremely faint, lingering aroma—the unmistakable scent of a curse.
Tsubaki had been a highly trained Exorcist and a Shrine Maiden of considerable talent. However, the path she had ultimately chosen to walk was diametrically opposed to the one taken by Kikyo.
Kikyo wielded her vast spiritual power to purify the tainted, protect the weak, and violently dispel evil from the world.
Tsubaki, consumed by jealousy and ambition, had twisted her sorcery to curse her enemies, control the unwilling, and bind spirits to her absolute will.
They were two entirely different approaches to the divine arts; two conflicting sides of the exact same coin.
And this unassuming string of prayer beads had served as the core magical tool Tsubaki used to cast her darkest curses during her lifetime.
The system panel flickered to life, displaying the artifact's hidden depths.
[Tahoto Shrine Maiden Prayer Beads]
[Quality: Demonic Tool]
[Description: This artifact once belonged to a highly talented shrine maiden who strayed from the path of light. However, the magical tool itself possesses no inherent concept of good or evil. It merely served as a faithful vessel, recording the dark traces of its owner's spiritual power throughout her life. Although Tsubaki's soul and active spiritual power have long since dissipated, the foundational sorcery and the obsessive, lingering thoughts accumulated within the wood still remain intact. If you can successfully awaken its dormant will, it will serve as a highly effective curse tool.]
[Current Favorability: 0]
A curse.
Unlike the art of purification, which was highly specialized for eradicating demons and cleansing Yao Qi, this power belonged entirely to the dark, taboo side of a shrine maiden's repertoire. It was a vicious, insidious power specifically designed to target, cripple, and destroy human beings.
Hikaru calmly wrapped the dark brown prayer beads around his left wrist, the wood cool against his pale skin. He allowed a microscopic thread of his Yao Qi to seep into the very first bead on the string.
An extremely faint, sluggish vibration pulsed against his pulse point. It felt exactly like a creature that had been sleeping in a deep, dark abyss for a very long time, slowly turning over in its slumber.
[Tahoto Shrine Maiden Prayer Beads: Favorability +1. Current Favorability: 1.]
It was the start of yet another grind. Another beginning.
He withdrew his hand, letting the beads settle against his wrist, and quietly walked out of the shrine's main doors.
The moonlight spilling across the courtyard was absolutely perfect, casting long, silver shadows across the wooden floorboards. From the direction of the main living hall, Kikyo's pure spiritual aura drifted through the night air. It felt incredibly steady, warm, and deeply peaceful.
She was sleeping soundly, her guard entirely lowered. She could afford such a peaceful rest for one simple reason.
Because Hikaru was here, standing watch in the dark.
He stood silently under the eaves of the wooden corridor for a long moment, letting the cool night breeze wash over him. His Crimson Demon Eyes caught the silver reflection of the moonlight, glowing with a subdued, predatory light. A very slight, almost imperceptible curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Moving with absolute silence, he carefully pushed open the sliding door to her room and stepped inside. Looking down at the deeply sleeping Kikyo, her face relaxed and free of the heavy burdens she carried during the day, the undead Oni Samurai couldn't help but feel a quiet, burning sense of expectation for the future they were carving out together.
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