Chapter 334

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

Chapter 334: The Final Curtain

[The event has ended]

[Reward: Stygian Water, Four-phase Puppets, Yunhu Sword]

[Evaluation: Very easy] -> [Review: Very simple]

Bai Wei dealt with the Thousand-Stone Black Snake, while the rest were just a motley crew. Most of the monsters and demons fell under his command, but unfortunately, he didn’t gain much experience from defeating them. As for the others, anyone with a bit of sense wouldn’t dare venture further into Shikoku Town. Tonight’s feast of a hundred spirits had come to an end.

However, the unrest couldn’t be stopped so easily. The aftermath of the clashes was impossible to hide from the shogunate, and investigations would follow. For the shogunate, this posed a troublesome matter. In their eyes, maintaining control was paramount, with the safety of the people a secondary concern. Thus, when a force arose that threatened their rule, it was bound to attract attention. It might even lead to a visit to Osaka Castle to meet the shogun.

Once his disguise was revealed, Bai Wei might have to return to the Ming Country. He didn’t expect to last forever, but holding on for a little while longer would be ideal—at least until Simozi came of age, which was still over a year away. Fortunately, the sword witch remained unaware of the truth. As long as Hokusinn Kichyō kept it a secret, there was no immediate risk of being recognized.

If the sword witch began to suspect, Bai Wei could always shift all the blame onto the emperor.

Bai Wei returned to Kamitsumi Shrine and immediately understood the devastation before him. The aftermath of the fierce battle was clear. Hokusinn Kichyō stood under a tree, deep in thought, while Kuya leaned against the other, appearing as though she were peacefully asleep.

Bai Wei’s eyes narrowed in an instant. His fists clenched tightly before he slowly relaxed his grip. He had suspicions about Kuya’s true identity. As for Hokusinn Kichyō from the parallel spacetime, it wasn’t hard to guess.

In front of Shimura’s house, Kuya had failed to see the two graves from twenty years ago. This didn’t necessarily mean the future had changed. Perhaps the graves had been moved? He hadn’t delved into it further because doing so would inevitably expose Kuya’s secret. She had chosen to conceal it, speaking in vague riddles and repeatedly mentioning “the last day.” It was clear she had her own thoughts and decisions.

Hokusinn Kichyō, too, had refrained from revealing everything directly, and the meaning was evident.

Bai Wei couldn’t interfere in their matter. He could only leave space and time for them to sort it out. Yet, he hadn’t expected Kuya to have chosen death.

When they had waited for each other to return, life and death had already separated them.

There were still words left unsaid, but now, no matter what he said, she would never hear them again.

Bai Wei walked over to Kichyō. When she turned to face him, her eyes were brimming with tears.

“Cry,” Bai Wei said softly, “Crying will make you feel better.”

Hokusinn Kichyō shook her head, sniffing forcefully.

“She said she would be happy to die in the hands of her loved ones…”

“This is a good thing. I shouldn’t cry. She has finally found happiness and peace. How could I cry?”

She tried to force a smile, but no matter how hard she tried, her face remained stiff, weighed down by an invisible burden.

“But why do I feel so unwilling?”

Hokusinn Kichyō asked, her voice not seeking an answer, but expressing her reluctance to accept this cruel fate.

Bai Wei remained silent, his gaze fixed on Kuya, who seemed to be quietly smiling. He wondered, When you close your eyes, what is it that you truly think about? Is it liberation or revenge?

Perhaps she realized that she would never find an answer.

Suddenly, Bai Wei remembered something. He pulled out the amulet Kuya had given him. The amulet had once helped him with time and space positioning, but now it was useless.

Thinking to return it to its original owner, he took it out—only to see an object slipping from the bag of the amulet. He swiftly caught it in his palm.

Inside the amulet, Bai Wei found a neatly carved wooden piece. It was a painting of a horse, worn down over time, with marks so heavy that it was barely recognizable by its pattern and writing.

“Let me see,” Kamitsumiwoikirihime said, “I might be able to tell.”

Bai Wei handed the amulet to Kamitsumiwoikirihime, who examined it quickly. “The wish written on this painting of a horse is…”

“I hope to find happiness.”

Hokusinn Kichyō was startled. Her eyes filled with tears once again as she took the Ema, hugging it tightly. She slowly crouched down, her sobs silent but heavy.

Not wanting to disturb her, the group silently moved away.

Bai Wei moved to the other side of the shrine. “Can you recognize such heavy wear and tear?” he asked.

“Of course, I am the deity of this place,” Kamitsumiwoikirihime replied, with a touch of nostalgia. “Recognizing Ema isn’t about design, but the wishes left behind.” She continued, “A long time ago, someone left me an Ema. Although I can no longer remember who it was, I’ve kept it in perfect condition all this time.”

“Oh? Can you show me?”

“…Alright.” Kamitsumiwoikirihime, with a divine air, handed Bai Wei another Ema. This one was even older, the wear and tear so great that the remaining writing and patterns were nearly indecipherable.

Bai Wei shook his head, unable to recognize the wish written on it. “What does it say?”

Kamitsumiwoikirihime recited the poem on the Ema, “May I gain someone’s heart, never to part till the end of time.”

Bai Wei paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Hahaha…”

Kamitsumiwoikirihime was puzzled. “Why are you laughing?”

Bai Wei shook his head. “Such a beautiful poem… it just unfairly judges me.”

There were two painted horses.

There were two instances of cause and effect.

In the blend of past and future, the living still exist in this very moment. Time, in its constant cycling, is truly an intriguing thing.

Bai Wei gazed into the distance, as the crimson moonlight began to fade like a gently falling stage curtain. A sense of nostalgia washed over him.

“It’s all over now.”

“Is it over now?”

The two Sword Witches, freshly departed from the Netherworld, wandered around the empty Sengoku Shrine. Eventually, they found the lifeless body of a giant serpent lying in a valley. Even in death, the monster exuded a chilling aura, a reminder of its terrifying power, at least on the level of a dragon, capable of causing catastrophic havoc.

Kiriko Mizuko, feeling sadness in her heart, whispered, “How could it be killed? Did something even more ferocious come after it?”

Kokonohana Nori shook her head. By now, all the golden raindrops in the sky had disappeared. However, the body of the black serpent still emitted scattered golden sparkles. Seeing these glimmers, the funeral attendant knew who was responsible. She felt a moment of relief mixed with disappointment.

The gods intervene easily. When they do, things fall into place naturally, leading to effortless success. But the disappointing part was that he hadn’t stayed. She hadn’t seen him again. There were still things left unresolved.

The funeral attendant suddenly asked, “Mizuko, what do you think would happen if a new deity appeared in the shrine right now?”

Kiriko Mizuko tilted her head. “If a new belief suddenly emerged? Hmm, it might cause division.”

“What do you personally think?”

“If it were useful, I might have a little faith,” Kiriko Mizuko replied, kicking the black serpent’s body. “If I were in danger and a god, or a disciple of one, came to save me, I would definitely believe.”

Kokonohana Nori felt a flutter of uncertainty in her heart. “…But I know it’s impossible. Even Inari Okami wouldn’t care so much about their devotees,” Kiriko Mizuko added. “At least, I can be sure I’ll find a boyfriend as wonderful as Mr. Bai Wei, and I’m willing to believe in that!”

Kokonohana Nori spoke seriously. “Let’s not talk about these things. First, let’s return to Shikoku Town. After dawn, we’ll contact the shrine to handle matters here.”

“Can I grab some fries on the way?” Kiriko Mizuko asked persistently, her stomach rumbling.

“Sure, not only fries but also ketchup,” Kokonohana replied cheerfully.

Later, Kiriko Mizuko said, “But Jingūji has been sleeping all this time. I’m a little worried…”

“This might not be a bad thing,” Kokonohana Nori glanced at the slumbering sword witch. “She might be dreaming about her past life.”

The Heroic Spirit Principle was undergoing further revival, and there was no way to fully experience the entirety of the Celestial Fox’s long life in a single encounter.

She needed some additional assistance.