Chapter 320
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Chapter 320: Shattering the Palanquin of God
That night.
In the town of Shikoku, the sacred ritual unfolded over two nights.
On the first night, the young maiden was taken to Sengoku Shrine, where she entered the realm of shadows and summoned the Sengoku God.
On the second night came the wedding ceremony, marking the union of the Sengoku God and Kamitsumiwoikirihime.
The townspeople of Shikoku, uncertain and unaware of the ritual’s true purpose, busied themselves in preparation. They could not know that tonight, the Hundred Demon Banquet would commence alongside the festivities.
Visitors from afar and local residents alike thronged the streets, cheering as they immersed themselves in the celebration meticulously prepared for this sacred occasion.
In the third hour, under the crimson moonlight, the majestic Palanquin of God began its procession through the town’s main road.
Carried by sixteen strong, youthful men, the palanquin was a spectacle. On its platform stood drummers, beating rhythmic songs of devotion, while shrine maidens danced gracefully, their movements an offering to the gods.
This parade was more than ceremony; it was a plea, a show of gratitude for the gods’ blessings—a bountiful harvest, favorable weather, and protection.
As the palanquin reached Inari Shrine, three apprentice shrine maidens performed sacred Kagura dances, their movements mesmerizing.
In Yingzhou, where myriad beliefs coexisted, the older and more mysterious the faith, the more savage its rites often became. Mountain deity worship was especially harsh—rituals involving live burials or locking sacrifices in shrines to starve were common.
The Palanquin of God was no less brutal in its hidden truths.
Inside the ornate palanquin sat a young girl adorned in exquisite traditional dress, her delicate features like those of a porcelain doll.
Her expression was lifeless, her body motionless, though she was unbound. She dared not move. With so many eyes on her, escape was impossible.
The girl, Hitomi Shimura, clung to fear. Her father, Rokuro Shimura, was at the mercy of the townspeople. Any attempt to flee would bring unspeakable consequences upon him.
At just ten years old, Hitomi had endured countless hardships. She had learned to accept the cruel hands of fate, her small hands clutching her clothes tightly in silence.
Nearby, a couple noticed her.
“She must be so nervous,” the man commented.
The woman laughed softly. “She’s absolutely adorable like that.”
To them, the girl’s stillness was endearing. But to those who paid attention, a darker truth was evident.
Behind the Palanquin of God, a colorful procession followed—a mix of people in vibrant attire and eerie masks. Among them, voices whispered.
“So many people… I’m hungry.”
“Be patient. If you eat now, it’s stealing. Get caught, and you’ll be skinned alive.”
The speakers were not human. They were monsters in disguise, blending seamlessly with the crowd.
This festival, the Land God Festival, had been dormant in Shikoku Town for decades. As the town modernized and prosperity grew, such rituals were deemed unnecessary.
But reviving the festival wasn’t difficult. Spreading unsettling rumors of vengeful mountain gods, causing mysterious deaths, and having respected elders endorse these stories were enough to incite fear.
And so, driven by fear and superstition, the townspeople had orchestrated this ritual.
The monsters had merely planted seeds of chaos. It was the townspeople who watered them, nurturing them to fruition.
Amid the festival’s chaos, the Palanquin of God neared the mountain path.
A figure emerged from the shadows, walking towards it.
The festival organizers, spotting him, stepped forward, irritated. “Step aside,” one said sharply.
The man didn’t budge. Instead, he reached out. With a light push, he sent one of the organizers flying several meters, crashing through a household window.
The crowd gasped. Tourists whispered in confusion.
“Is this part of the performance?” one asked.
“Maybe it’s a reenactment of Musashibou Benkei on the bridge?” another speculated.
Unfazed by the chatter, the man picked up a mask from a street vendor and calmly declared:
“Today, the Palanquin of God will not pass through.”
The villagers panicked. The elder, hiding in the crowd, barked an order: “Drive him away!”
The townspeople surged forward, swinging sticks and shouting threats.
Before they could act, the man struck swiftly. A kick sent one flying into a pile of people, unconscious.
He smiled coldly. “Do you think I’m here to reason with you?”
The villagers hesitated, but the elder screamed again, “Start the ritual!”
The man leaped onto the Palanquin of God, his movements swift and decisive. With a single strike, the wooden structure splintered, collapsing into rubble.
Amid the wreckage, the young girl knelt unharmed, her pale face a mix of fear and confusion.
The man crouched beside her, gently wiping away the layers of makeup to reveal a clean, innocent face.
“Uncle will take you to find your father,” he whispered.
Tears welled in Hitomi’s eyes. “Really?”
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. She obeyed, resting against his chest.
As he lifted her, his expression darkened—a fierce determination burned in his gaze.
“To those who orchestrated this…” he murmured, his voice chilling, “The adventure has just begun. Don’t beg for mercy too soon.”
