Chapter 227: Such a Weak God
Golden light swallowed his vision.
The moment Kobe Hikaru stepped into the Buddha Power domain of Mount Hakurei, the world around him warped and dissolved. The towering walls of Kiyosu Castle, the winding official roads, and the fluttering banners of the Imagawa camp all melted away into a faint, blinding gold.
In their place rose the mountains.
Endless, rolling peaks stretched out beneath a sky choked with dense white mist. But this was no ordinary mountain fog born of morning dew and cold air; it was pure, unadulterated 'Dharma Power'.
It was the physical manifestation of the 'Power of Will'.
This heavy, omnipresent force seeped in from all directions. It was so thick it felt tangible, pressing against his skin like a bath of warm, heavy water. The temperature wasn't high, yet it completely enveloped him, suffocating the very air.
A normal human would likely feel absolutely nothing in this environment. They might even find the air refreshing.
But for a demon—
Under the crushing suppression of the Buddha Power, the Yao Qi surging within Hikaru's body was violently forced back. The demonic energy was restricted entirely to his physical shell, pressed ruthlessly into the microscopic gaps between his bones and blood vessels. It was completely locked down, unable to leak even a fraction of an inch past his skin.
The massive overflow of Yao Qi granted by his Eighth Transformation was shackled.
Without the ability to project his energy outward, the corrosive blood mist from his Blood Transformation could no longer spread into the air. His lethal Bone Spikes could not be fired from his flesh as projectiles.
Lightning could no longer be discharged across the battlefield.
Even the lock-on range of his Soul-Snatching Sure-Hit Hand shriveled drastically, shrinking from a deadly hundred paces down to absolute point-blank range.
His entire repertoire of long-range devastation had been rendered completely useless in the blink of an eye.
Fortunately, his close-quarters lethality remained intact.
Hikaru slowly clenched his fist. Thunder Muscle activated beneath his skin. Sizzling purple-white electric arcs flashed between his knuckles, surged up his forearm to his shoulder, and raced down the length of his spine.
The lightning stored within his bones remained vast and abundant; it was simply trapped inside his vessel.
Blood-Fire Transformation was also functional. The demonic flames boiling within his blood burned fiercely, ready to incinerate anything the moment he made physical contact.
He tested his Asura Transformation next, mobilizing his four forged organs. The heart-fire flared, the kidney-water descended, the lung-metal purified, and the liver-wood expanded.
The quadruple cycle hummed to life, operating flawlessly.
Even the Bone-Thunder Giant Body of the Asura Transformation could still be constructed. Because the giant skeletal armor physically 'grew' out of his own bones, it acted as a direct, physical extension of his main body rather than an external energy projection. It didn't trigger the mountain's suppression.
The tension in his jaw loosened slightly.
His long-range capabilities were crippled, but his core combat power remained absolute. In a brutal melee, he could still tear his enemies apart with his full strength.
He could fight.
The very second he finished his internal self-check—
The red comb resting at his waist vibrated violently.
Yura of the Hair was practically vibrating with excitement. And more than that, a desperate, overwhelming impatience.
Through their connection, she had immediately sensed that the terrifying shrine maiden, Kikyo, was no longer standing by Hikaru's side.
Inky black light surged from the teeth of the comb. Strands of dark hair darted out like a nest of vipers, weaving rapidly through the heavy mist.
In the blink of an eye, a human figure condensed into shape right beside him.
Short black hair with a faint emerald sheen framed an exquisite, petite face. The corners of her eyes tilted upward in a natural, seductive curve. Her thin, well-defined lips parted slightly, and her inky vertical pupils dilated with sheer eagerness.
It was the physical manifestation of Yura of the Hair.
Using her own black hair as a makeshift garment, she wrapped the strands tightly around her figure, covering only the most essential parts. Vast expanses of her pale neck and collarbone were left exposed to the cold air. Her waist was impossibly slender, and stray locks of hair wound playfully around her ribs, tracing a shallow, teasing curve before trailing down her hip bone.
She immediately pressed her soft hands onto Hikaru's broad shoulders, leaning her weight against his back. Resting her chin intimately in the crook of his neck, her vertical pupils curved into delighted crescents.
"Mas—ter—"
Her voice was drawn out, dripping with a cloyingly sweet, honeyed tone. "That scary priestess isn't here anymore. So it's just the two of us now, isn't it?"
She shifted closer, her breath brushing against his ear. "A place like this is so quiet, so perfectly private—"
Unfortunately for the demoness, she didn't get to finish her sentence.
Blinding golden Buddhist light erupted violently from the earth beneath their feet.
Like an invisible, colossal hand descending from the heavens, the holy light slapped directly onto Yura's manifested body.
Her physical form instantly collapsed.
With a sharp crack, her black hair exploded into a sky full of shredded, burnt strands. Her exquisite face twisted into a mask of pure shock for a fraction of a second before shattering into countless points of fading light. Her inky pupils wide with absolute disbelief.
The entire manifestation, built on her maximum favorability, was ruthlessly crushed back into its original form by the mountain's Buddha Power in less than a single second.
The red comb fell heavily back against his waist, striking the necklace of seven stones with a loud clatter.
Text immediately flashed across his vision.
[Yura of the Hair: Ow ow ow ow ow... what was that!?]
Hikaru glanced down at the now-smoking, completely silent comb.
He clicked his tongue against his teeth. He felt a brief, fleeting moment of pity for her, but quickly dismissed it. After all, Kikyo was still waiting for him on the outside; it wasn't Yura's turn to play anyway.
He also noted, with a deadpan sense of amusement, that this particular demoness really did have a deep talent for seeking her own death.
He offered her no words of comfort. He simply reached down, straightened the hot comb, and secured it back in its proper place at his hip.
He wasn't surprised by this outcome in the slightest. Nor was he disappointed.
Setting aside the fact that he hadn't yet crossed the threshold of the Twelfth Transformation to grant her a true physical body, even if they had tried anything in that state, it would have been hollow. Without the ability to release his energy into her, there was no way to simulate the true sensation of a living person.
Simply put, although Yura could manifest as an illusion thanks to her maxed-out favorability, that form was entirely fake. It required the constant, external release of his Yao Qi to maintain its substance.
And inside Mount Hakurei, the suppression of external Yao Qi was absolute.
However much energy she tried to push out to manifest, the mountain would slap it back with equal, crushing force.
Trying to run amok and flirt in the holiest domain in the land?
Not a chance.
The comb went completely and utterly silent. Even the faint, residual vibrations had stopped.
She was probably sulking from the pain.
Hikaru withdrew his gaze and continued his trek forward.
Despite the overwhelming holy aura, the terrain itself was that of a normal mountain. Although the entire peak was essentially a deity of flesh formed from the mummified body of Master Hakushin, it was still a substantive rise of the earth—a natural phenomenon piled high with soil, roots, and stone.
As he walked, Hikaru didn't just blindly wander the misty paths; he actively used his environment.
Hair Transformation.
Because this ability had already merged completely into his physical structure—becoming a core component of the Tenth Transformation he was currently undergoing—his hair grew directly from his scalp and extended from his very bones. It belonged to his body.
It was not considered a detached, external energy.
His pale, ghostly long hair began to branch out. The strands thinned and lengthened rapidly from the tips, spreading silently along the rocky ground like creeping root fibers.
The ends of the hair strands oozed a dark, menacing red. By combining the internal burning heat of his Blood Transformation with the physical extension of his Hair Transformation, he wove a sprawling, sensory net that pressed flush against the earth.
A blood-colored hair net.
The range wasn't massive—barely a hundred paces in radius due to the suppression—but it was more than enough. It was enough to map the surrounding terrain, detect hidden life reactions, and pierce through the blinding white fog to truly 'see' his surroundings.
The moment the crimson net settled into the dirt, a flood of environmental information surged into his mind.
Directly ahead lay a steep flight of weathered stone steps leading upward into the mist.
Flanking both sides of the steps were Buddha statues.
Countless, densely packed Buddha statues.
Some were massive, towering three zhang high into the fog, while others were as small as a clenched fist. They were carved directly into the mountain walls on either side of the path, extending endlessly into the limits of his sensory net.
Each statue bore a unique visage. There were furious, glaring Vajras; downcast, weeping Bodhisattvas; serene Arhats with their palms pressed together; and imposing, seated Tathagatas.
But they all shared one horrifyingly holy commonality—they were all carved directly from the living rock of Mount Hakurei.
Carved from the very 'flesh' of Master Hakushin.
It was a silent, suffocating forest guarded by statues of the divine.
Hikaru stepped through the thick fog and finally arrived at the base of the stone steps.
His Crimson Demon Eyes swept over the dense cluster of stone faces. The complex purple patterns within his pupils rotated slowly, analyzing the flow of energy.
Thick, oppressive Buddha power seeped out from the stone pores of each statue, converging and overlapping in the air. Together, they formed a crushing layer of suppression that hovered heavily over the steps.
The higher he walked, the stronger the gravity of the holy light would become.
He shifted his weight, preparing to ascend.
Suddenly, a strand of his blood-colored hair net brushed against something at the edge of his range. An alarm flared in his mind.
It was no longer just the cold stone of Buddha statues. It was the distinct, pulsing aura of a living being.
It was... a person.
Deep within the forest of stone gods.
The aura his hair net touched was incredibly unique. It carried a violent, roaring fluctuation of divine Buddha power, yet it felt entirely different from the sharp, piercing Bishamonten aura wielded by Uesugi Kenshin.
This aura was rougher. Heavier.
It felt like an immovable mountain.
At the same time, the owner of that aura radiated another, far more obvious characteristic.
Human energy.
An overwhelmingly dense concentration of human energy. It was the kind of crushing momentum gathered only by someone who commanded the absolute loyalty and lives of tens of thousands—an aura exclusive to a true Daimyo-level conqueror.
Hikaru's Crimson Demon Eyes narrowed slightly.
The truth-seeing talent of his black pearl activated, piercing the white veil.
In the distance, a shadow materialized through the fog. It was a tall, strikingly curvaceous female silhouette, flanked by three or four smaller, tense figures.
And floating directly above the head of that leading female silhouette was the massive, roaring phantom of a guardian spirit.
A golden lion with a mane made of raging fire.
"Red-haired woman... divine Buddha power..."
Hikaru murmured in a low, raspy voice, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his deadpan features. "Takeda Shingen?"
Red hair, divine Buddha power, and the guardian spirit of the Vajra Lion. Possessing all three of these traits in this bloody era pointed to only one person. The undisputed ruler of Kai Province—a warlord he had heard of countless times but had never formally crossed blades with.
Deep within the forest of Buddha statues.
The long flight of stone steps finally leveled out, opening into a wide, circular platform completely encircled by giant, glaring statues.
A few massive chunks of broken stone lay scattered across the center of the platform, having long ago crumbled from the shoulders and arms of the surrounding stone gods.
Takeda Shingen sat casually atop one of the largest boulders.
She looked to be less than twenty years old. Her deep, crimson-red hair flowed like a heavy waterfall, cascading past her armored shoulders all the way down to her waist, the tips pooling against the rough stone surface.
Her face was striking and heroic, defined by sharp, high brow bones and an intense, predatory gaze.
She wore a loose, plain-colored kimono beneath her heavy armor, but the inner collar was left carelessly open. It revealed smooth, honey-colored skin tanned by years on the battlefield. The fabric across her chest was stretched taut, hanging heavily to the sides. Her uncontrollable, overflowing curves strained against the lapels, so full and heavy that they pulled the thick kimono fabric into deep, visible wrinkles.
Her figure was tall and dangerously curvaceous. Her waist was incredibly narrow—easily grasped by two hands—making the extreme contrast between her heavy chest and wide hips all the more pronounced.
The Tiger of Kai. One of the most ambitious, brilliant, and ruthless female Daimyo of the Sengoku Period. The absolute ruler of Kai and Shinano Provinces.
She claimed to be the living reincarnation of Fudo Myo-o, the Immovable Lord. And looking at the sheer weight of her aura, she truly was.
At this moment, she sat with one armored leg crossed over the other, her chin resting lazily in her hand as she tilted her head to look at her retainers.
Standing rigidly beside her were three elite Hime-mushas.
The leader of the trio was a tall, well-built warrior wearing vermilion light armor, her hand resting constantly on the short sword at her waist.
Her face was delicate, but her eyes held a fierce, heroic sharpness. This was Yamagata Masakage, one of the legendary Four Heavenly Kings of the Takeda Clan. She was also the very same warrior who had once crossed paths with Hikaru, realized instantly that she was completely outmatched, and decisively fled for her life.
She currently emitted a heavy, artificial divine artifact power. It inherited the same fiery lineage as Fudo Myo-o, but it felt lighter, thinner—a mere fragment of the true god's power, rather than the whole.
"My Lord, this mountain is extremely strange..."
Yamagata's voice was low, tight with tension. She shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable under the crushing holy pressure.
The other two Hime-mushas looked to be in even worse shape. One was squatting at the foot of a massive stone Buddha, panting heavily as sweat dripped from her chin. The other leaned heavily against the stone wall, her eyes squeezed shut as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.
"Nonsense, I know that."
Shingen's voice was lazy and rich, carrying a relaxed, almost bored tone that was completely out of place given their dire situation.
"But it's nothing more than being temporarily unable to leave. It's really not a big deal."
She casually picked up the heavy folding fan resting beside her on the rock. This was no delicate, exquisite accessory painted with pine trees and cranes like the one Imagawa Yoshimoto favored. This was a massive, iron-boned war fan that looked heavy enough to crush a man's skull like a hammer. The thick fan surface was pitch-black, emblazoned with four gleaming golden characters: 'Fūrinkazan'—Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain.
She tapped the heavy iron fan rhythmically against her open palm.
"It is a bit of a pity, though... Taking advantage of that Imagawa girl leading her troops on a western expedition, and the new pup of the Uesugi Clan still busy cleaning up her predecessor's mess, I originally wanted to march my troops out of Kai and swallow Mino whole. The west is locked in a bloody meat grinder, and the east is completely empty. What a perfect opportunity."
She sighed, her heavy chest rising and falling. "And as a result, the second I stepped foot into the mountainous border of northern Mino, I got swallowed whole by this ghost mountain."
"Fortunately, it looks like it's just us who got dragged in. The main army of my Takeda Clan didn't cross the boundary."
The reason Shingen had appeared here was exactly as she described.
Yes, she had signed the Three-Country Alliance treaty.
Do not attack the Imagawa Clan. Do not attack the Hojo Clan.
But the treaty said absolutely nothing about not attacking Mino.
Saito Dosan, the Viper of Mino, had abandoned his territory to join the Imagawa Clan in Owari, leaving Mino as a completely defenseless, empty shell.
It would be a sin against heaven to let such a prime piece of territory go to waste. While Shingen would never break a formal treaty or betray her allies' trust, she was absolutely not the type of woman to sit back and watch a fat piece of meat fall into someone else's mouth if she could take it first.
This was the Sengoku Period.
There was no such thing as absolute morality. There were only relative interests and the strength to enforce them. Shingen never considered herself a saint, nor did she ever try to whitewash her bloody ambitions.
And now... she was trapped in a holy cage.
"My Lord, the suppression range of this mountain is still expanding."
Yamagata gripped her hilt tighter. "If this continues—"
Shingen suddenly raised a single, armored finger, instantly silencing her general.
The deep red waterfall of her hair slid off the broken stone as she slowly tilted her head. Her predatory gaze swept past the towering Buddha statues at the edge of the platform, locking directly onto the thick fog hovering over the stone steps.
"Someone is watching us."
Yamagata's blade slid half an inch from its scabbard with a sharp hiss.
The other two exhausted Hime-mushas snapped their eyes open, instantly dropping into combat stances despite their fatigue.
There were no footsteps echoing on the stone. There were no shadows moving in the mist.
But Shingen's monstrous battlefield intuition had never lied to her, and she would never lie to her men.
"Come out."
The red-haired warlord tilted her chin toward the steps, continuing to tap the heavy iron fan against her palm.
Her tone was incredibly casual, as if she were greeting an old neighbor over a fence. "Spying on a woman by hiding in the fog... don't you think that's a bit rude?"
The mist-shrouded world seemed to hold its breath for a long, silent moment.
Then, from behind a towering, three-zhang-high angry Vajra statue at the top of the steps, a figure finally stepped out into the open.
Gray, tattered robes. Pale, ghostly long hair trailing behind him. Piercing, Crimson Demon Eyes that glowed in the white fog.
Secured to his left waist was the demonic blade Onikiri. On his right hung Yomikiri. And dragging heavily from his right hand was the pale, monstrous giant sword, Banryu, easily as tall as a grown man.
Hikaru stepped onto the stone platform, his expression entirely deadpan.
Shingen looked down at him from her boulder, her deep red eyes blinking once in slow realization.
"Pale hair, red eyes..."
She stood up slowly from the broken stone. Her stature was incredibly imposing—standing nearly five feet seven inches tall, an absolute giant among the women of this era.
As she straightened her spine, the collar of her plain kimono pulled dangerously tight. Her heavy, full curves swayed heavily with the motion, the sheer weight of her chest causing the thick fabric to sag downward by half an inch.
She looked completely unfazed by the demonic presence before her.
At least, she maintained her absolute indifference in front of her subordinates.
"You are the master of the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons. The guardian deity of the Imagawa Clan. The Lord of Thunder-Slaying, Kishin Mitama no Mikoto?"
Recognizing the monster standing before her, a fierce, bloodthirsty smile spread across Shingen's lips.
"Kishin Hikaru."
She called out his true name, her voice thrumming with anticipation.
Although they had never formally met, the sheer scale of the chaos he had unleashed in the Kanto region was impossible to ignore. Forcing the Uesugi Clan to withdraw. Making the War God Uesugi Kenshin kneel. Severing the arm of the ancient Tsuchigumo. Leading the Imagawa fleet to raid Echigo. And finally, delivering the thunderous 'divine punishment' that annihilated the Demon King of Okehazama.
The vast ninja network of the Takeda Clan had carefully recorded every single one of these impossible feats.
For a monster to reach this level of infamy, even if the common peasants didn't know his face, every single Daimyo in the Kanto region knew exactly what he was.
Hikaru did not respond. He merely stared at her with cold, unblinking red eyes.
His gaze shifted slightly, analyzing the faint, flickering fluctuations of the Fudo Myo-o divine artifact fragments embedded within the armor of the three Hime-mushas beside her.
In the very next second, Shingen moved.
There was no warning. No battle cry.
The heavy iron fan flipped violently in her grip. As she snapped her wrist, the iron fan bones slammed open with the sound of a thunderclap. The pitch-black surface of the fan exploded, unleashing a massive, heavy wave of golden light. The pure divine Buddha power of Fudo Myo-o poured out from the fan, condensing into a visible, crushing shockwave that roared straight toward Hikaru's face.
"I heard you were incredibly strong—"
Shingen's voice echoed from behind the blinding shockwave, trembling with uncontrollable, battle-crazed excitement. "Let me test that!"
Yamagata drew her blade in a flash of steel, swinging it horizontally. The power of her Fudo Myo-o fragment ignited along the edge, launching a crescent of golden blade-light toward his flank.
To his left, the second Hime-musha hurled a short spear with bone-shattering force, the steel tip wrapped in the lingering, heavy resonance of pure faith.
To his right, the third warrior slammed her palms together, projecting a massive, fan-shaped golden curtain of light designed to crush him from the side.
Surrounded from all directions, the four women rushed him simultaneously.
There was no malice in their eyes. No deep-seated hatred or killing intent. There was only pure, overflowing, euphoric 'battle intent'.
They were absolute martial fanatics.
Led by the most warlike, battle-hungry Daimyo in the entire Sengoku Period, bar none.
Even the previous generation's Uesugi Kenshin felt the need to justify her conquests under the banner of 'righteous war'. But Takeda Shingen couldn't even be bothered to invent an excuse. She fought simply because she wanted to fight. She would beat her enemies into the dirt first, and talk to them later.
Faced with the coordinated, divine assault, Hikaru's expression didn't change.
He didn't bother activating his Asura Transformation. He didn't even reach for his blades.
Banryu remained planted firmly in the stone floor. Onikiri and Yomikiri stayed resting in their scabbards.
He merely raised his empty left hand.
Thunder Muscle activated instantly beneath the skin of his palm. Violent, purple-white electric arcs gushed out from between his fingers. Because of the mountain's suppression, the lightning couldn't leave his body, so it condensed entirely on the surface of his skin, turning his hand into a blinding, crackling claw of pure plasma.
Shingen's massive iron fan shockwave slammed directly into his open palm.
It shattered instantly.
The heavy golden light wave tore apart like wet paper against the concentrated fury of his purple-white lightning. The violent aftershocks of the collision swept outward, blasting against the surrounding Buddha statues, but the stone gods didn't even chip—they were the physical body of Master Hakushin, forged harder than enchanted iron.
Hikaru's left hand punched effortlessly through the shattered golden light. His five fingers spread wide, pressing directly against the thick iron ribs of the Fūrinkazan fan Shingen had instinctively raised to block.
The divine Buddhist power of Fudo Myo-o collided point-blank with his Thunder Muscle.
The golden characters 'Fūrinkazan' painted on the iron fan hissed violently, smoking and peeling under the terrifying, concentrated heat of his electric arcs.
And then—
Shingen was launched backward like a cannonball.
She slammed into Yamagata, who had been rushing up behind her, unable to retract her forward momentum in time.
The two women flipped violently through the air, crashing heavily into the base of a giant Buddha statue at the far edge of the platform.
The Hime-musha who had thrown the spear from the left fared even worse. Her high-speed projectile was casually swatted out of the air by the back of Hikaru's right hand. The sheer kinetic force bent the thick wooden shaft into a sharp V-shape, rebounding it instantly to slam both the spear and the woman brutally into the stone wall.
As for the warrior on the right who had tried to crush him with the light curtain—before her golden barrier could even fully expand, Hikaru had already blurred into motion, stepping directly into her guard. He pressed his crackling left palm into the dead center of the light curtain, pouring a concentrated burst of thunder directly into the construct.
The light curtain detonated from the inside out. The Hime-musha was blown off her feet by the concussive airwave, her head cracking against the gravel as her eyes rolled back, instantly unconscious.
The entire exchange took less than three seconds.
Shingen groaned, slowly pushing herself up from the rubble at the feet of the stone Buddha. A large chunk of the black lacquer on her prized iron fan had been entirely blasted away. A thin trail of blood seeped from the corner of her lips.
She wiped the blood away with the back of her thumb, her deep red eyes staring in shock at the gray-robed figure standing calmly in the center of the ruined platform.
From beginning to end, the monster hadn't even drawn his blade.
Hikaru stood perfectly still amidst the settling dust. He looked down at his crackling hand, then back at the bleeding warlord, and spoke in a slow, deadpan voice.
"Such weak divine Buddhas."
To an ordinary demon, these women wielded 'divine Buddhas' capable of fighting on par with Uesugi Kenshin or high-level demons of the Eighth or Ninth Transformations.
But for Hikaru... although he was technically still only at the Ninth Transformation, his four internal organs had already been completely forged. Even in his base state, without activating his Asura Transformation, his physical specs approached the Eleventh Transformation. If he fully unleashed his power, he could directly rival ordinary Twelfth Transformation demons.
While he still couldn't compare to a thousand-year-old calamity like Kidomaru—who held the terrifying Rashomon domain and approached the world of a true Great Yokai—the gap between him and these human warlords was no longer something that could be bridged by mere artifacts.
To him, they were just... really weak.
Image: "Takeda Shingen", Location: "Images/1774715530-100464952-114634672.jpg"
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