Chapter 318
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Chapter 318: Kamitsumiwoikirihime Has Passed Away
Rokuro Shimura, lost in madness.
His mind had already unraveled, leaving him in a state of complete insanity.
No matter what Bai Wei said, Rokuro wouldn’t respond. He simply sat on the ground, clutching a handful of mud, murmuring one word over and over.
“Flowers… flowers…”
His daughter’s name was Hitomi Shimura, yet she couldn’t grasp the meaning of this repetition.
The house he lived in was a desolate wreck, barely standing against the elements.
How had someone so far gone managed to survive twenty years?
Bai Wei’s curiosity was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
An elderly woman with white hair appeared, holding a bowl filled with white rice and simple vegetables. She paused, wary upon seeing strangers.
Her eyes darted to Rokuro Shimura, noting that he seemed unharmed, though she still kept her distance.
“Who are you?” she asked cautiously.
“We are…” Hokusinn Kichyō began, but Bai Wei raised his hand.
Golden flames ignited at his fingertips. “We are immortal beings from the Ming Country,” he declared.
Magic made it impossible to deceive those skilled in their craft, but ordinary people were much easier to fool.
He continued, weaving a tale half-truth and half-lie, “I met an immortal once. I promised to cure Rokuro Shimura’s daughter’s illness.”
The old woman, believing him instantly, knelt in reverence.
“Do not kneel,” Bai Wei said sternly. “Immortals are not gods. Tell me, what has happened to Rokuro Shimura all these years?”
The woman hesitated before speaking, her expression laden with sorrow.
“Twenty years ago, he lost his daughter.”
“She died?” Hokusinn Kichyō asked, newly aware of Hitomi Shimura’s illness, akin to that of Sakurai Shiru.
“No. She was taken—sacrificed alive by the townsfolk.”
Bai Wei’s face darkened. “A human sacrifice? What happened?”
“To summon the Sengoku God, they believed a ten-year-old girl needed to enter the Sengoku Shrine,” the old woman explained. “The shrine is a place of death; no one who enters survives. Hitomi was sent there and never returned.”
Her voice cracked. “Her father… He limped to the shrine, searching for her remains. But he found nothing. The air there is poisonous, and over time, it turned him mad. Six months ago, he completely lost his mind. Now, he just sits and stares into nothingness.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she placed the bowl before Rokuro Shimura and began to feed him, piece by piece.
Bai Wei asked softly, “What does he mean by ‘flowers’?”
“Fifteen years ago, he started planting flowers. The village was barren, and most of them withered. But on the mountain, where water still flows, they flourished. He sold them to survive.”
She paused, her voice trembling. “Do you think… he can still be cured?”
Bai Wei shook his head solemnly. He had seen Rokuro’s life thread—it was fraying.
“I see…” she whispered, wiping her tears. “Perhaps it’s better for him to rest now, after all his suffering.”
A moment of silence passed before Bai Wei asked, “When did this village begin to fall apart?”
“Twenty years ago,” the woman replied. “During that ceremony… The ritual failed, and Kamitsumi, the great goddess, grew enraged. The village lost its water source.”
Bai Wei exchanged a glance with Hokusinn Kichyō.
“It’s time to visit the shrine,” he said.
“Take care of him,” Bai Wei added, before they turned to leave.
The air darkened as they neared Kamitsumi Shrine, an oppressive gloom settling over the area.
Inside the shrine, Miko Kuya tended to a garden of lavender. She appeared serene, but Bai Wei knew better.
“Rosemary,” he murmured aloud, recognizing the plant’s properties.
Kuya glanced up, a small smile on her lips. “You’ve returned. Did you find your answers?”
“Why did you cut off the village’s water source?” Kichyō demanded.
“If I had cut it off entirely, the villagers would already be dead,” Kuya replied calmly. “I only reduced it. This is the will of Kamitsumiwoikirihime.”
“You told her to meet me,” Bai Wei pressed.
“She cannot,” Kuya said, her golden eyes gleaming. “Because she passed away. The villagers killed her.”
Her mocking laughter echoed as she added, “This misery? It’s exactly what I wanted.”
Kichyō’s anger flared, but Bai Wei interrupted. “Was her death tied to the ritual?”
Kuya nodded. “Yes. What will you do now?”
“I’ll prevent this future from becoming reality,” Bai Wei declared.
Kuya returned to her garden, her movements deliberate.
“Tonight,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll be ready. Prepare yourself.”
Sengoku Shrine stood at the threshold of the Spirit Realm.
Despite the eerie setting, the surrounding flowers bloomed in breathtaking defiance, nourished by the toxic mist from the underworld.
Bai Wei’s thoughts returned to Rokuro Shimura and the flowers he had nurtured.
A grim realization began to form.
