Chapter 149
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Chapter 149: Title
Fusang.
In a garden steeped in Japanese aesthetics, within a traditional chamber, Onmyoji Abe Masanari gazed at the computer resting upon the low tea table. Beside him knelt a snow maiden in a flowing blue-white dress, her knee-length hair cascading as she poured tea from a porcelain vessel.
Behind them stood an ethereal figure draped in diaphanous silks, her alabaster shoulders framed by snowy fox fur. Delicate bare feet graced the tatami, a crimson thread adorning one ankle where a golden bell chimed with each subtle movement. Jet-black hair coiled into an elaborate chignon revealed pearlescent fox ears, while a luxuriant tail emerged from her robe’s hem to caress her pale arm.
In all Fusang’s territories, only one being possessed such transcendent allure – the venerated Inari. Yet here stood her equal in divine splendor.
Tamamo no Mae.
Abe Masanari’s eyes darted between the live stream’s nine-tailed fox and the enigmatic presence behind him. This paradox of deity and yōkai tilted her head as crimson lips parted:
"Spare your questions, Masanari. That is no ordinary kitsune, but a celestial fox of Qingqiu’s true lineage." Her voice carried the weight of centuries, though complex emotions flickered briefly in her amber eyes.
The Onmyoji swallowed his unspoken words. Tamamo no Mae’s Huaxia-style robes and archaic courtly manners betrayed her origins more plainly than any confession. Like many Fusang deities bearing echoes of Eastern Civilization’s myths, her legend intertwined with that ancient land’s stories – particularly the tale of Daji, the fallen concubine said to have sailed east with nine tails concealed beneath her mourning robes.
Myths shift like desert sands. Where ancient Huaxia once revered nine-tailed foxes as auspicious spirits, later generations recast them as harbingers of chaos. Tamamo no Mae’s claws tightened on her folded fan. The Mountain and Sea Realm’s revelation had stirred memories better left buried.
"Prepare my journey to Huaxia."
"Now, my lady?" Masanari’s tea bowl clattered against wood. "With the Battleground’s imminent opening…"
Her tail flicked in irritation before stilling. The demon lords’ broadcast chatter suggested the Nine-Tailed Demon Lord herself might emerge at the tournament. Perhaps this ancestor’s reappearance demanded neither voyage nor confrontation, but patience.
A bittersweet smile graced Tamamo no Mae’s lips. The reforged Jiuzhou Great Array’s protections glowed fiercer than the summer sun – fitting, for the land that birthed and exiled her. Let the new era’s foxes play their games; she’d long since traded Daji’s name for divine worship. Yet as golden bells chimed with her turning step, something kindled behind her eyes – not hope, but the faintest spark of ancient curiosity.
She knew her own limits. Even at her zenith, she had barely reached tier seven—vastly inferior to the tier nine Nine-Tailed Demon Lord. Having forsaken Jiuzhou to ascend as a foreign deity, she understood deserting Jiuzhou was tantamount to forsaking their own kind in the spirit cultivators’ eyes. What could possibly await her there now? Especially if seeking Abe Masanari’s aid meant invoking the mantle of Inari.
Tamamo no Mae exhaled imperceptibly, resolving to heed his counsel.
"We shall revisit this matter after the Battleground affairs conclude."
"Forgive my presumption," Abe Masanari ventured after prolonged hesitation, "but why does Your Grace desire to visit Huaxia?"
Her laughter chimed like temple bells, tempered by lingering regard for Abe no Seimei’s lineage. "This divinity’s silence doesn’t imply ignorance. Having pried into my bonds with the Huaxia Nine Provinces, why trouble me with such fatuous queries?" She toyed absently with the cascade of hair against her bosom. "Fusang’s ancient ties to Jiuzhou withered epochs ago. Now…" Her gaze grew distant, piercing through temporal veils to forgotten eras. "Fusang remains Fusang. Jiuzhou stays Jiuzhou."
Abe Masanari bowed deeply, knowing better than to debate whether she manifested as fox spirit or Inari. "Your wisdom illuminates me, Lady Tamamo."
India
Upon embracing the Earth Mother’s cult, India rushed to erect her temple by renovating an existing structure—though even this proved arduous. Modern Indians found themselves adrift, their ancestors’ devotion to the primordial goddess reduced to fragmented legends. Each deity demanded distinct architectural rites, yet hope glimmered: before departing, the Earth Mother had appointed a mortal representative.
Authorities swiftly installed Nilora, the slum-born priestess marked by a Golden Lotus upon her brow. Public outrage simmered as the fourteen-year-old ascended from rags to reverence, directing temple construction from its inaugural day. The sanctum blended ancient sanctity with modern necessities—electric lights hummed beside sacred altars.
When the Earth Mother’s presence rippled across realms yesterday, Nilora sensed that divine regard like sunlight through stained glass. Being chosen granted no grand epiphanies—merely fragile significance.
At dawn prayers before the newly carved idol, a luminous orb darted into the temple, halting before her. She clasped it without fear; here, beneath her goddess’ watchful gaze, peril held no dominion.
Gods shield Their faithful and chosen priests.
True to this, Nilora remained unharmed as the light sphere settled into her palm, morphing into a lotus with a slender stem.
The flower glimmered a pale golden hue, akin to the Golden Lotuses left during the divine manifestation, yet far more delicate—its stem so fragile it seemed a mere touch could snap it.
Each petal appeared delicately spun from strands of metal, translucent enough to filter sunlight.
Cradling the lotus, Nilora felt a flood of knowledge from the sphere surge through her mind:
World War, the Heavenly Law Battleground, world fragments tainted by Abyssal aura… A throbbing ache seized her temples as her legs buckled, sending her kneeling onto the temple floor.
Attendants selected to serve the Earth Mother stood elsewhere in the sanctuary. Beyond the hall, a girl in a white priestly robe hastened down the corridor. Upon spotting Nilora’s crumpled form at the threshold, she darted forward without hesitation.
“Your Grace!” Anissa gripped Nilora’s arm, voice taut with worry. “Are you all right?”
Nilora blinked up, recognition dawning. “Anissa? What brings you here?”
“Your Grace, you must see this—” The girl thrust her phone forward. “Glowing spheres materialized in the sky moments ago. I should’ve reported immediately—”
Leaning on Anissa’s offered hand to rise, Nilora cut through the apology. “Contact Director Van. Now. This cannot wait.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
In India’s extraordinary affairs sector, the former Deputy Director Van—who’d originally approached Nilora—had since shed his provisional title, ascending to sole leadership of the Extraordinary Management Bureau.
As Anissa departed, Nilora studied the live footage on the phone’s screen, her thoughts churning. Another Abyssal invasion might decimate India’s population… but corrupted world fragments? That horror eclipsed even the creatures’ menace.
Vatican City
“It’s done?” The Pope’s gaze lingered on the technician before the glowing monitor.
“All posts published per your instructions, Holiness.”
“Good.”
“Multiple special departments seek clarification. Shall we—”
“Acknowledge nothing unless I command it.” The pontiff swept from the chamber.
Minutes later in his private study, luminous tendrils coalesced into the radiant phantom of Archangel Michael. The Pope inclined his head respectfully.
“Lord Michael. The hour has come.”
