From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 302: The Last Kendo

If the appearance of the great demon was merely a distant illusion for the vast majority of people, then the lesser demon that appeared on camera and the terrifying reality of its possession was a nightmare that struck fear into the hearts of everyone!

After all, when ghosts could be recognized at a glance, few people were truly afraid of them. If worst came to worst, one could always just run away!

However, the possessed female host made such a notion entirely impossible.

Because if ghosts could possess people, a terrifying question arose: how could you tell if the people around you, whether familiar faces or strangers, were human or ghost?

What were their goals? To eat humans? To absorb souls? Were they simply hiding among humanity, or were they secretly carrying out a plan to eradicate the human race?

No one knew the answers to these questions, yet this lack of knowledge did not stop the panic from continuing to spread at a rapid pace.

Everyone knew that the most terrifying concept in this world was the unknown. Unknown monsters and unknown horrors essentially equated to infinite fear.

This was a deeper level of panic than directly facing fear. In an instant, countless people flooded into the temples, shrines, and churches in their local areas, packing them to the brim!

They desperately prayed that they would not encounter these ghosts, hoping against hope that they would not become the unlucky souls possessed or even devoured by them!

This reaction was exactly what the mastermind behind the scenes had calculated. After all, only true panic would drive humanity to actively seek out Transcendence, compelling them to grasp at any Transcendent power they could find, regardless of what it was or whether it was good or evil!...

At the Tokyo National Museum, a deathly silence was practically the only atmosphere present.

After all, this building sat along the path from Adachi Ward to Arakawa Ward. It was a structure that the massive ghost had narrowly brushed past. Without even a solitary old caretaker sweeping the grounds, it was naturally dead silent and completely deserted.

However, a remarkably clear set of footsteps suddenly echoed through the museum.

It sounded like wooden clogs, the rhythmic clacking carrying bit by bit across the empty halls.

If anyone had been there, they would have seen a man dressed in the traditional robes of an Onmyoji and wearing wooden clogs. Astonishingly, he bore a striking resemblance to the portrait of Abe no Seimei hanging nearby!

Indeed, as Transcendence rose across the globe, this historically renowned Great Onmyoji naturally caught the attention of many, becoming an object of reverence and prayer. Even the museum was not exempt from this trend, having chosen to display his portrait.

Looking as if he had stepped right out of the painting, he approached a displayed sword and sighed with a touch of emotion. "Dojigiri Yasutsuna, a very familiar blade!"

To Abe no Seimei, it was indeed incredibly familiar. Back in the day, before Minamoto no Yorimitsu set off on his campaign, he had sought out Seimei for a divination.

He had read the special omen of 'blood mist over Mount Ooe obscuring the planet Venus' and thus specifically designed a substitute paper doll for Minamoto no Yorimitsu to help him evade the terrifying poison of the fierce ghosts.

At that time, Minamoto no Yorimitsu was still a young man. He had excitedly declared that if he returned victorious from the campaign, he would send his child to study under Seimei!

"What a pity that things remain while people change... Minamoto no Yorimitsu passed away long ago, yet the blade forged by Master Yasutsuna is still here!"

His hand phased straight through the display case and grasped the hilt of the sword, lifting it out. "Dojigiri... I hope that even now, you can still sever the head of Shuten Doji and protect this realm once more!"

"Dojigiri Yasutsuna"

In the past, Minamoto no Yorimitsu had used this very sword to decapitate Shuten Doji. Because of this feat, the name "Dojigiri" was bestowed upon the blade, cementing its place as one of the Five Legendary Swords of Japan.

Today, this sword was about to return to the battlefield!

And its master had already been chosen. It would be wielded by a descendant of the Minamoto clan—a young man who had long ceased to truly belong to the Minamoto family!

Abe no Seimei's eyes flickered slightly as he gazed off into the distance.

...

Yuan Xiansi was the young man's name. This surname was a glory his father had been immensely proud of!

After all, their family was the true, direct main line of the Seiwa Genji. They were once the genuine supreme existence in this realm. Throughout history, the members of their family had achieved extreme brilliance:

Minamoto no Yorimitsu, Minamoto no Yoritomo, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, Takeda Nobuyoshi, Tokugawa Ieyasu... and so on. All these famous warriors were descendants of their family.

Furthermore, the three great shogunates—the Kamakura shogunate, the Muromachi shogunate, and the Edo shogunate—were all established by their clan. It was truly a lineage meant to last for eons!

However, none of this had much to do with Yuan Xiansi. After all, even the direct descendants of the Emperor could fall into obscurity, let alone the Minamoto family, which sounded incredibly dominant but had actually fallen into decline long ago.

The rule over the three shogunate eras had made everyone incredibly wary of the Minamoto clan. This family and its descendants had ruled over all of Japan for over twelve hundred years. Almost the entirety of the shogunate era was spent under their shadow, and no one wanted a repeat of that history.

Consequently, even though the Minamoto clan possessed a profound heritage and a formidable background, by the time it reached Yuan Xiansi's father's generation, only a fleeting trace of its former glory remained.

Who could blame him when he was saddled with a grandfather who had gone mad studying the sword, and a father who treated his grandfather's every word as gospel?

After his father had succumbed to his own martial arts obsession, he hacked Yuan Xiansi's mother to death before committing suicide shortly after. This tragedy left behind the then ten-year-old Yuan Xiansi and a deeply dilapidated estate. How dilapidated was this estate? Put it this way: not a single relative even bothered to fight for his custody.

Relying on this rundown property and scraping by through an increasingly impoverished life, Yuan Xiansi took things one step at a time to survive until now. He even managed to open up this dilapidated kendo dojo located in the suburbs of Tokyo.

'Come to think of it, it's been eleven years...' Yuan Xiansi mused with a sigh as he put away his bamboo sword.

"See you tomorrow, teacher!" a few young children called out as they walked past him, having changed back into their everyday clothes.

"See you tomorrow, be careful on your way home!" Yuan Xiansi nodded, watching the children pass by before slowly standing up to change into his own casual clothes.

Today was the day he swept his teacher's grave. It was also a rare occasion where Yuan Xiansi did not need to practice the Way of the Sword, giving him a precious moment to rest.

Carrying a jug of wine and a bamboo sword, he set off. His teacher's grave was very close, located just a little over a hundred meters away.

When he was very young, his teacher would often smile and say to him, "It's good to be close to the cemetery! Being closer means it'll be easier for you to visit me in the future!"

Later on, he realized the true underlying reason. His teacher knew that a kendo dojo situated near a graveyard wouldn't attract greedy relatives fighting over the inheritance; they would consider it bad luck.

Yet, only a place like this could adequately shelter and sustain an elderly man and an ignorant youth.

Thinking back on all this, Yuan Xiansi gazed at the sword in his hand with a profound sense of loneliness. Ever since his teacher passed away, the sword was the only thing he had left!

The young swordsman carried his blade and wine to the front of his teacher's tombstone. It bore only a few simple words: The Tomb of Miyamoto Makoto.

Because he was a solitary man who could not bear a family name, only his personal name could be engraved.

"It's been a while, Teacher. I've come to see you again!" Yuan Xiansi whispered. He placed his sword in front of the grave, took out the wine, and carefully set down two small cups.

"You once said that I am someone abandoned by the Minamoto clan, and you were someone abandoned by the Miyamoto clan. We are both outcasts... but it doesn't seem to be a bad thing!"

He picked up the wine jug and filled the cups. He poured the first cup onto the ground before the grave, and then drained the second cup in a single gulp.

"You taught me that the most important aspect of learning the sword is the heart! I have found my sword heart, and I have defeated many opponents, but why do I feel no joy at all?"

He poured himself another cup of wine, voicing the doubts that plagued him.

After mastering his skills, Yuan Xiansi had set out to challenge the major kendo dojos, seeking to exchange pointers and learn from them. Unfortunately, the exchanges were far from smooth, and the lessons learned were ultimately meaningless.

Because those people were completely disloyal to the sword. Their hearts were not devoted to the blade at all!

They only cared about rigging matches, hoping he would intentionally lose so that everyone could maintain their pride and save face.

Whenever he insisted on a real spar, their expressions would turn ugly. Public matches quickly became private brawls, and rather than promoting the duels, they simply wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible.

These "masters" solely valued their win-loss records and the profit they could squeeze from a victory. They cared absolutely nothing for the true essence of martial arts!

It wasn't until he had won countless matches that people finally started showing up at his door to fight. Yet, even they weren't there for the sake of combat; they simply wanted the clout and attention of losing to the "Contemporary Sword Saint".

Much like the talent agencies constantly hounding him to sign contracts, these people only cared about his popularity. They wanted to milk him for cash, completely uninterested in helping him elevate his Way of the Sword.

And so, Yuan Xiansi returned. Evading the corporations, the suddenly attentive relatives, and various other factions, he came back to find his teacher, simply wishing to have a heartfelt conversation.

"Teacher, the Way of the Sword is already dead... All the grandmasters of the various kendo schools have become slaves to money and parasites of power, rather than true practitioners of martial arts!"

He sounded utterly resigned. Even though he was only twenty-one, the experiences of the past year had left him deeply exhausted.

He knew this world was broken, yet he was at his wit's end. Was this not the ultimate form of helplessness?

Then, a voice suddenly echoed beside his ear. "Since you say this, does it mean you still hold fast to the ideals of the martial will, and harbor a thirst for true victory?"