Chapter 184: Little Jia, Transform For Me! Like The Invitation At Arakawa Village Farewell, Daruma Approaches, Demon Guide Association Appears
Heartstring?
Shangshan Che held his breath and focused, directing his attention inward.
After a good while, he actually discovered a brand-new heartstring that had suddenly appeared next to the thick heartstring of Two-Foot Adult!
But isn’t a “heartstring” usually something that only exists between a shikigami and its master?
Shangshan Che stroked his chin, eyeing Kaga Kiyomitsu as it spun around in front of him.
He focused his mind again, using his thoughts to touch this slender, flickering heartstring like a silken thread, and could even faintly hear voices coming from within it.
But he couldn’t make it out clearly at all.
He could only tell it was a buzzing vibration sound, but it seemed to contain some kind of rhythm or pattern.
Shangshan Che seemed to understand.
—This heartstring should be a byproduct of Little Jia achieving spiritual perfection, or rather, after the new effect “Spirit” appeared.
And the effect of “Spirit” should be what allowed Kaga Kiyomitsu to develop more autonomous and complete spiritual intelligence.
—Before, Kaga Kiyomitsu could only produce buzzing or vibrations of varying intensity, but now it could fly into the air on its own and even attempt to communicate with him, its master, through the heartstring.
If he could hear it more clearly, perhaps he really could talk to Kaga Kiyomitsu.
Shangshan Che’s thoughts paused at this, then he shifted his gaze to another panel.
—【Spirit Control Technique】.
Right, the original purpose of learning Spirit Control Technique was to communicate with the spirit-infused object “Nanjo Doll.”
And since he could communicate with people and objects back then, there was no reason it shouldn’t work now!
With this thought, Shangshan Che began circulating his Spirit Control Technique, directing all his own and his spiritual power’s “attention” to the flickering heartstring linked to his inner self.
“Fix, strengthen…”
After silently repeating this several times, Shangshan Che finally grasped the heartstring with his Spirit Control Technique, then gradually stabilized it in his mind using an incantation.
Dozens of seconds later, Shangshan Che shouted into the heartstring he had fully stabilized with his Spirit Control Technique,
“Hey, hey, hey? Little Jia, can you hear me?”
Kaga Kiyomitsu, hovering in front of him, stopped abruptly with a whoosh, circling in place somewhat puzzled, exuding the disoriented feeling of someone on the street who doesn’t know who called their name.
Shangshan Che called out several more times, but when he saw Kaga Kiyomitsu still hadn’t recognized that it was him, its master, “speaking” through the heartstring, he raised an eyebrow.
Spirit Control Technique was indeed having an effect.
It was just that the effect wasn’t strong enough yet.
Because he could hear it a bit more clearly too, but he still couldn’t distinguish what those “buzz buzz buzz” sounds really meant.
The current situation was roughly like the two of them shouting to each other across three or four hundred meters—able to sense tone and emotion at best.
Not as convenient as just speaking directly.
But Spirit Control Technique wasn’t stuck here immobile.
—Next time he returned to the Mortal Realm and went to the Special Affairs Office to advance Spirit Control Technique to Expert Level, this issue should resolve itself easily.
Shangshan Che stared at Kaga Kiyomitsu, which was tilting its blade tip side to side, and his eyes lit up.
That meant soon, he could truly understand what those buzzing sounds meant and achieve barrier-free communication with Little Jia!
“Alright, I know you’re awesome!”
Shangshan Che gave Kaga Kiyomitsu a thumbs-up in encouragement, patting the scabbard at his waist: “Come back for now; someone is waiting.”
After sensing the heartfelt praise from Shangshan Che, Kaga Kiyomitsu let out a clear, crisp sword cry and slipped back into the scabbard with a whoosh, settling down contentedly.
Seeing Kaga Kiyomitsu so thoroughly tamed by a single compliment, Shangshan Che couldn’t help but think to himself,
“It’s like coaxing a child…”
Not far away, Zashiki Warashi, witnessing this, burst out laughing.
She leaned against an ancient temple pillar and asked smugly,
“Mr. Hannya, what do you think of this brand-new Kaga Kiyomitsu?”
She patted her chest forcefully, her palm predictably bouncing back,
“This is the forging result I’ve been most satisfied with personally in the century since entering this second ring trial!”
—The greatly enhanced versatility of “Soul Slaying,” the highly personal “Blazing Fortune” of Zashiki, Little Jia’s fully awakened spirituality, and this unprecedented Epic+++ exaggerated quality.
Achieving this with just one piece of suitable spirit gold—Zashiki Warashi’s forging skills could already be called masterful craftsmanship!
He really was lucky to encounter her on Mount Yamajira.
Shangshan Che said earnestly to Zashiki Warashi, who had stood up and was stretching her arms,
“Thank you, Zashiki.”
But unexpectedly, Zashiki Warashi did not accept this well-deserved gratitude and instead shook her head,
“No.”
She said word by word: “I should be the one thanking you, Mr. Hannya.”
“—You brought the highly spiritual Little Jia and trial-impossible high-tier materials; combining them allowed you to point out my path forward with just one forging.”
Zashiki Warashi let out a sigh of relief, as if shedding a thousand-pound burden,
“Surely soon, I too will be able to forge qualifying weapons and complete this second ring trial.”
She paused here, her keen gaze turning to Shangshan Che: “Rather than calling me a fortune god, it’s more like Mr. Hannya is my lucky star.”
Not long after their first meeting, she had been able to embark on her long-dreamed Eternal World journey.
And now, after a long-separated reunion, Mr. Hannya had effortlessly resolved the century-old obstacle before her.
“No, I’ve consulted several veteran blacksmiths before, but they were all helpless.”
Shangshan Che shook his head,
“It’s Zashiki’s own forging strength that’s solid; completing this Master Craftsman Trial was just a matter of time… Don’t sell yourself short.”
“A matter of time… huh.”
Zashiki Warashi murmured his words in repetition, slowly lowering her eyes and sighing deeply: “But that time was really too long.”
She gave a helpless wry smile,
“If not for Mr. Hannya’s sudden arrival, I might have been trapped in this ruined temple on the mountain for life.”
—Behind them, Imagawa Yoshimoto listened to their conversation, glancing over the weapon pile, this unremarkable ruined temple, and the dignified Hannya Mask at Shangshan Che’s waist.
“There really are so many novel things in this world I don’t know about.”
Imagawa Yoshimoto thought pleasantly.
Clap clap!
Zashiki Warashi slapped her cheeks hard, clenching her fists and declaring loudly: “Alright! Since we’re about to clear the trial anyway, no more baseless pessimism!”
She turned her head, looking at Imagawa Yoshimoto who happened to be staring at her, and grinned openly: “By the way, I’ll also reinforce the armor on this miss a bit.”
Gazing at the somewhat surprised Imagawa Yoshimoto, Zashiki Warashi smiled and gave her a peace sign,
“Consider it post-workout stretching and cooldown!”
As the Little God of Fortune, even after switching to blacksmith master craftsman—she couldn’t spread negative emotions to everyone but had to bring joy and happiness!
This was something Zashiki Warashi had learned on her journey.
Imagawa Yoshimoto did not refuse Zashiki’s goodwill toward her and began removing her armor piece by piece.
Finally, she neatly carried it to the anvil,
“Then, Zashiki Master Craftsman…”
“Just call me Zashiki.”
Zashiki Warashi waved her hand, picking up a piece of armor for a rough inspection: “I’m not a master craftsman yet, and hardly worthy of ‘Your Excellency’ or ‘Adult.'”
She shrugged casually at Imagawa Yoshimoto,
“Right now, standing before you, miss, is just a traveler with decent forging skills who can bring a bit of good luck to those around her, nothing more.”
Imagawa Yoshimoto stared at her in a daze, then earnestly gave her own name,
“I am Imagawa Yoshimoto, ruler of this land, and in the future, ruler of all Under Heaven.”
She skipped the cumbersome name etiquette, extending her palm to the soot- and sweat-covered Zashiki Warashi.
Then, just like Shangshan Che back in Arakawa Village issuing the “shikigami invitation,” she extended a fervent invitation to this enthusiastic, kind, and easygoing Little God of Fortune,
“Zashiki, please become my vassal, Imagawa Yoshimoto’s.”
Imagawa Yoshimoto’s eyes sparkled: “From now on, whatever materials you want or requirements you have, I can search them out and fulfill them for you.”
Zashiki Warashi, still holding a piece of armor for inspection, froze.
She blinked, thinking this girl was Imagawa Yoshimoto—she’d heard plenty of good rumors about her lately.
Shangshan Che, standing not far away, heard words identical to his own invitation and yawned casually.
No need to think; Zashiki Warashi would definitely refuse.
Regardless of Zashiki Warashi only appearing in the Sengoku Period during trials—even if she truly lived in this era, she would never become Imagawa Yoshimoto’s vassal and be tied down.
Because if Zashiki Warashi could be swayed by such conditions, she would have become his shikigami back in Arakawa Village.
Imagawa Yoshimoto wouldn’t have had a turn now.
Shangshan Che gazed at that petite yet sturdy back, thinking silently to himself—
Zashiki Warashi loved traveling alone, pursuing the unknown; how could she be swayed by a stable life in one place?
“Sorry.”
After a brief dozen seconds, Zashiki Warashi finished inspecting the set of modern armor.
Mimicking the mountain villagers’ way of address, she smiled and placed the armor on the anvil,
“I must decline, Head of the Imagawa Clan.”
Hearing this near-identical refusal, Shangshan Che couldn’t help laughing out loud.
Before Imagawa Yoshimoto could turn back, he explained: “Because I invited Zashiki to become my shikigami just like you, and got refused, Lord Yoshimoto.”
Hearing words from both sides, Imagawa Yoshimoto paused slightly, then sighed regretfully,
“Is that so.”
Learning the unchangeable answer, Imagawa Yoshimoto didn’t dwell and instead blessed her: “Then I wish you smooth travels ahead, Zashiki.”
“Thanks, Head of the Imagawa Clan!”
Zashiki Warashi grinned, placing a few more armor pieces on the anvil.
Before the Blazing Fortune fire rose and forging resumed, she curiously looked at Shangshan Che: “By the way, Mr. Hannya, I still don’t know your name.”
Zashiki Warashi asked: “May I have your name?
“Che.”
Shangshan Che thought for a moment, then realized it was true.
So he answered,
“My name is Che.”
Zashiki Warashi went “oh”: “Che… Got it, memorized.”
She fell silent for two seconds, then turned her attention back to the anvil,
“Reinforcing the armor is delicate work; it might take some time. You two can wait nearby.”
Seeing Zashiki Warashi eagerly resume blacksmithing, Shangshan Che and Imagawa Yoshimoto didn’t disturb her and tacitly moved to the temple pillar.
“Lord Yoshimoto, how does it feel to be refused without hesitation?”
“Honestly, a bit novel.”
Imagawa Yoshimoto, having removed her full set of modern armor, sat in a relatively clean spot, gazing intently at the focused blacksmithing Zashiki Warashi,
“But the more like this, the more one wants to bring her under their command.”
“Her ambitions lie elsewhere.”
“Of course I know that.” Imagawa Yoshimoto propped her chin, muttering, “But haven’t you heard, Tetsu-kun? The harder to get, the more you want it.”
Hearing this, Shangshan Che realized his lord hadn’t given up on recruiting her and was probably scheming various ways.
But that was Imagawa Yoshimoto—unshaken by a couple of refusals.
Shangshan Che didn’t pay it much mind.
After all, once Zashiki Warashi completed this ring trial soon, she’d leave the Sengoku Period; no matter Imagawa Yoshimoto’s thousand schemes, nowhere to apply them.
“More importantly—”
Shangshan Che took out the map Kujira Gorō had given him from his storage bag: “Lord Yoshimoto, let’s decide our next destination first.”
As he spoke, he simultaneously opened the “map” from Hundred-Eyed Demon on his panel—the one that could mark areas with lots of “big eyeballs.”
“This is indeed important.”
Imagawa Yoshimoto retracted her gaze and began examining the map inch by inch seriously.
After long contemplation, she placed her finger on a key pass town in Eastern Mikawa.
It perfectly overlapped Shangshan Che’s finger.
……
At this time, in Nishio City of Western Mikawa, Jodo Shinshu’s daily “Gratitude Ceremony” was about ending, time for monk’s meals.
Golden-red glow descended from the horizon, shining on the monks sitting in Jodo Shinshu’s side hall.
“Delicious, delicious! Lotus Light Dharma Master, your monk’s meals are really tasty!”
Gyōbyōō, draped in a gray kesa, grabbed tofu, polished rice, and large chunks of roasted meat mixed in, eating with oil dripping from his mouth.
“Glad it suits your taste, Benefactor.”
Lotus Light smiled, scanning around and seeing no monks, novices, or elders looking over, nodding satisfied.
Looks like making an example as a warning had some effect.
Managing this vast Jodo Shinshu required such straightforward methods.
Lotus Light clasped hands toward the devouring Gyōbyōō: “At this rate, perhaps no need for a full month—even just over half a month to collect the wish power I need.”
“Then, Dharma Master.”
Gyōbyōō dumped the remaining meat chunks from his bowl into his mouth, patted his round belly, and asked pleasantly: “Need me to purify the stray thoughts in your wish power?”
Have Gyōbyōō do that?
By the time Gyōbyōō purified the wish power, who knows whose it would be…
Lotus Light’s expression shifted slightly, still mild: “No need to trouble yourself with such trifles, Benefactor.”
“Trifles, huh.”
Gyōbyōō eyed the monks all eating with heads down, not daring to breathe, and said meaningfully: “In that case, I hope the Dharma Master won’t burn bridges or kill the donkey once done.”
Lotus Light shook his head: “Benefactor, what are you saying? How could this poor monk do such a thing?”
“Also.”
Gyōbyōō raised his greasy fingers, making the little novice who arrived yesterday afternoon walk over in a stupor.
The little novice looked down and spoke in a hoarse, insect-like voice,
“M-Master…”
He grinned: “Since the Dharma Master said so yesterday, it’s fine if I make him kin, right?”
Lotus Light Dharma Master fell silent.
This little novice witnessing it was one thing, but Gyōbyōō converting him to kin and bringing him into public view was another.
This is testing my bottom line?
Lotus Light slowly clenched his fist inwardly, outwardly amicable: “This poor monk still hopes for your aid during the upcoming World Revival, Benefactor.”
“Of course, what are we, Dharma Master.”
Gyōbyōō laughed heartily.
Nearby, Daruma, silently eating his monk’s meal, said nothing—more like a true monk than those raised in Jodo Shinshu since childhood.
He silently noted everything around him, turning it into his own “experience” and “knowledge.”
At this moment, a strange sound suddenly came from the little novice’s mouth.
Gyōbyōō raised an eyebrow.
Then Daruma saw the motionless little novice’s skull slowly open, revealing everything inside, from which a blood-red brain slowly crawled out.
The grotesque, bloody scene could make anyone who saw it vomit up last night’s meal.
But Daruma just kept eating his monk’s meal seriously and enjoyably, as before.
He thought to himself: “That’s Gyōbyōō’s kin, Sen Nōhime, right, Master?”
In Daruma’s mind, laughter rang out,
“Indeed! This is 【Sen Nōhime】, capable of ultra-long-distance memory sharing—though it requires crawling out of the host’s body during sharing.
But with so many kin under Gyōbyōō, impressive you remember.”
The laughter said approvingly: “Daruma, you’re truly the yokai with the highest potential I’ve met since joining the Demon Guide Association!”
Daruma replied stiffly: “Just simple memory, Master; nothing difficult.”
“Don’t sell yourself short!”
A rumbling voice echoed in Daruma’s mind: “Given time, becoming that legendary Ghost God isn’t impossible!”
“Daruma will strive.”
After replying to his master, Daruma continued observing and recording—
Gyōbyōō listened intently for a moment, then smiled broadly with an “mm”: “Dharma Master, another city in Eastern Mikawa has fallen; where next as target?”
He smiled: “Or rather, which city is more important?”
“Naturally, Yoshida Castle guarded by the Matsudaira Clan, controlling the Toyo River mouth and Tokaido’s water-land choke point.”
Lotus Light held nothing back, explaining the basics fully,
“Also serves as frontline fortress against Imagawa forces.”
Gyōbyōō nodded repeatedly, smiling at the blood-red brain now in his palm: “Then, relay the order: everyone to Yoshida Castle.”
Sen Nōhime went dormant, transmitting the information after minutes before regaining vitality, ready to return to the little novice’s skull.
But Gyōbyōō clenched his fingers, crushing Sen Nōhime, splattering blood-colored juice onto Lotus Light Dharma Master’s kesa.
He scolded coldly: “Thing that can’t read the room… Don’t you know everyone’s eating fragrant monk’s meals right now!”
With that, Gyōbyōō quickly turned to the blood-splattered Lotus Light Dharma Master, apologizing repeatedly: “Oops, really sorry, Dharma Master; my kin is just undisciplined.”
“See, I’ve dealt with this rule-breaking guy.”
He pointed to the bloodstain on his palm, flashing white teeth: “Shouldn’t affect the Dharma Master’s appetite, right?”
—Since last night, Gyōbyōō didn’t know what bug he swallowed, inexplicably disgusting him in petty ways.
If not for Gyōbyōō’s great remaining use…
Lotus Light’s inner killing intent surged.
“Of course not.”
Lotus Light didn’t even glance at the blood droplets in his monk’s meal, smile unchanged.
Having taken in the whole scene while finishing his last bite of monk’s meal, Daruma suddenly stood.
“Let me.” He said abruptly, drawing the other two’s gazes.
“I’ve seen the map and know where Yoshida Castle is.” Daruma said flatly, “It’s very close to this Imagawa Yoshimoto you two mentioned.”
“Ah, right.”
Gyōbyōō dropped his flippant smile, asking: “Master Daruma going too?”
“Yes.”
Daruma nodded, stating his thoughts word for word, unmasked: “I’ve seen enough here; I need more tempering and knowledge.”
Lotus Light smiled and nodded, saying no more.
Because it was good—reducing a potential foe in the city and increasing chances of taking Yoshida Castle.
No need for him to say more.
“Excellent.”
Gyōbyōō nodded too, raising his hand: “I’ll send Master Daruma a few helpers to assist.”
With Gyōbyōō’s gesture, three kin demons radiating intimidating qi materialized amid surging spiritual energy.
One wore a conical hat, monk-like, but bound head to toe in rotten white bandages.
One had a withered face, hunched form, carrying a bottomless medicine box on its back.
One was pale as shadow, murmuring in pain, chained at every joint yet freely moving.
Gyōbyōō said flatly: “Kaibōzu, Kufuku, Gyōbyōō, from now on follow Master Daruma unconditionally and obey orders, got it?”
No reply.
The three “people” silently stood behind Daruma, heads bowed in silence.
“Namu Amida Butsu.”
Daruma clasped hands, bowing deeply,
“Daruma thanks you for the aid, Benefactor.”
After a simple thanks, Daruma turned and left the side hall, striding toward Yoshida Castle.
He sought to witness.
He sought to temper.
He sought to achieve perfect self through the long mortal world.
