Chapter 17: Fierce Battle at the Foot of Mount Hakuba

The three of them walked through the mixed forest at the foot of the snowy mountain.

Kamibayashi Miko’s umbrella itself had a barrier. Within a three-meter radius, as long as they didn’t use divine power, they wouldn’t be seen.

Minamoto Kiyomoto instantly thought of countless ways to use it, all of them related to crime.

In fact, divine power itself could be used for crime, but without a demonic beast, it would leave obvious traces. Depending on the severity of the situation, one could be targeted for purging.

A handsome young samurai, an otherworldly kimono-clad young woman, a gorgeous oiran-like lady. Snow fell from the pine trees, and the three of them seemed to have walked out of a painting.

“I have a question,” estimating that ten minutes had passed, Minamoto Kiyomoto spoke.

“Ask away,” the one who answered was Himemiya Izayoi.

“Why are all the clothes ancient?”

“Good protective gear is basically made from the corpses of demonic beasts. There are many left over from ancient times, so everyone wears ancient clothes. Of course, there are modern ones, but most cultivators still prefer the ancient style. Even with new demonic beast corpses, most will be made into ancient-style clothing.”

“What about weapons? During the Konohanasakuya-hime incident, I didn’t see any cannons or the like.”

“Those things that can’t use divine power can’t even touch a demonic beast.”

“Can’t the corpses be made into cannons?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’d also like to know the reason, and then make them into cannons so that even newcomers can be useful.”

Walking out of the mixed forest, the three of them no longer spoke and walked quietly on the snow.

The foot of Mount Hakuba was covered in silver. In the distance, a black eagle circled.

Although it was April, the temperature on the snowy mountain was still very low. Minamoto Kiyomoto didn’t feel very cold; the kimono insulated him from the low temperature.

Heaven and earth were silent, with only the crunching sound of their shoes stepping into the snow.

The three of them arrived at the top of the snowy mountain and found a campsite in a sheltered spot.

People in ski suits were moving back and forth between the tents. There were also snowboards, gas stoves, heating equipment, and so on. At first glance, one would think they were here for skiing and camping.

But in the bags for ski equipment, besides snowboards, there were also various weapons.

Minamoto Kiyomoto glanced at the two of them.

Kamibayashi Miko gave him a look that said “wait,” while Himemiya Izayoi’s eyes were smiling as if she were flirting with someone behind their backs.

The three of them stood in the distance, as quiet as snowmen, watching these people.

Soon, these people had set up their camping tents and gathered around a bonfire.

“Is everyone here?” the leader spoke very gently.

“Everyone’s here,” someone replied.

“Let’s begin,” the leader sat cross-legged and formed a Buddhist seal with his hands.

The crowd quickly sat down and looked at the man respectfully.

“This sermon is called: Consciousness-Only.

“Master Wonhyo once sought the Buddha and the Dharma among famous mountains and high peaks. One time, after sunset, he camped in a desolate tomb.

“He woke up in the middle of the night, his mouth dry. He reached out and drank water from a nearby cave. He had never drunk such clear, cold, and sweet water.

“When the master fell asleep and woke up again, the morning light shone on the place where he had drunk water at night. To his surprise, it was accumulated water in a skull.

“Master Wonhyo felt a wave of nausea and vomited. At this moment, he suddenly realized a truth.

“When the mind arises, all dharmas arise; when the mind is extinguished, it is no different from a skull.”

Minamoto Kiyomoto didn’t expect that these people were here for a “class.” He turned his head to look at Kamibayashi Miko, and Kamibayashi Miko still told him to wait.

He turned his head to look around and memorized the terrain.

“The three realms are mind-only, all dharmas are consciousness-only. There is no dharma outside the mind, why seek elsewhere?”

It seemed they had reached the specific cultivation method. Out of a thirst for knowledge, Minamoto Kiyomoto subconsciously reined in his thoughts and pricked up his ears to listen.

“One mind, that is, suchness, is unborn and unperishing, eternal and indestructible, the origin of the world. All things in the universe are born from it and perish with it.”

The people before him were wearing ski suits, but when they spoke of the scriptures, it was not out of place at all. On the contrary, there was an atmosphere of a Buddhist hall.

From noon to evening, the three of them stood there. Fortunately, it didn’t snow, otherwise they would have really become snowmen.

Minamoto Kiyomoto had roughly understood “Consciousness-Only.”

In more modern terms, it was the idealism of “I think, therefore I am.”

These people not only believed that divine power was the power of the mind, but also that demonic beasts were natural phenomena imagined by humans.

As for the cultivation method, to describe it in common language, it was:
Using the scriptures to unite one’s mind with the world, and to manipulate the world with the mind.

By cultivating to a profound realm, one could hold the key to the world in one’s hand.

It was said that when Shakyamuni was born, he held the secret key to the world.

With a dreamlike mind, a confident stride, a fearlessness of difficulties, a persistent determination, and a fated beauty, a clear light was refracted from the depths of his muscles.

The leading monk taught some methods of how to use the mind to increase strength and heal illnesses. In Minamoto Kiyomoto’s view, this was no different from curses, just a different name.

At dinner time, these people ate while asking questions about the day’s class.

The “teacher” also answered each student’s question seriously and kindly. It was as harmonious as students who had really come for camping.

Minamoto Kiyomoto had no questions. The only doubt he had was why they had to stand here all day for nothing.

He looked at Kamibayashi Miko, and Kamibayashi Miko still told him to continue waiting.

Himemiya Izayoi was limp, as if she were about to fall asleep at any moment, her head resting on Kamibayashi Miko’s slender shoulder.

In order not to make a sound, Kamibayashi Miko did not push her away.

Noticing this scene, Minamoto Kiyomoto regretted that he had been too studious and had given all his attention to “Consciousness-Only.”

If he had pretended to be sleepy earlier, couldn’t he have also leaned on Miss Kamibayashi’s shoulder?
However, “Consciousness-Only” was no match for the curses he had learned from Kamibayashi Miko, but he was reluctant to give it up.

It was a difficult choice.

After dinner, those people gathered together again.

This time, there was no class, but they were preparing to say something one by one.

“Three years ago,” a middle-aged man with stubble was the first to speak, “right here, there was an avalanche.”

After a moment of silence, the man continued in a calm tone:

“That day, I came here on vacation with my wife and daughter. My daughter was very excited and kept shouting, ‘Dad, Dad, let’s go skiing.’ My wife complained that it was cold here, but as soon as she was with our daughter, she laughed like a child.”

The middle-aged man seemed to be immersed in a happy time, his face warm.

“We went up the mountain together. I put on my daughter’s rabbit-shaped protective gear, two on her knees, and a larger one on her bottom, all pink, very cute.”

“My wife put on my goggles, blamed me for only having eyes for our daughter, and then laughed first.”

As if seeing his wife’s jealous look again, a smile appeared on the man’s lips, his crystal-clear eyes reflecting the dancing bonfire.

“And then,” he paused, “the avalanche happened.”

“For me, it was an avalanche. For those cultivators, it was the ‘White Horse of the Snowy Mountain’ causing trouble.”

“I held my daughter, protected my wife, and hid in this very spot. My daughter was crying in my arms, and my trembling wife kept telling our daughter that it was okay, it was okay.”

“The avalanche stopped. We were fine, but who knew—”

The middle-aged man showed a miserable smile, then said in a voice that seemed to be squeezed from his throat:
“The avalanche didn’t kill us, but those cultivators took the lives of my wife and daughter!”

The bonfire flickered. The man’s voice was calm and even a little terrifying. Everyone watched him quietly.

“After the avalanche, my wife and daughter, who were originally in my arms, suddenly disappeared.”

“The rescue team found them in the snow and determined the cause of death was the snow disaster. But I remember very clearly that I had been holding them, holding them with all my might.”

“At that time, my ears were full of the sound of the avalanche. I said to myself over and over again: Mansaku, you can’t let go, not even if you die, do you hear me?”

“I hate myself. Why did I let go in the end? Why didn’t we die together in the avalanche?”

The man rubbed his eyes with his palm.

“After the accident, I couldn’t accept the truth and couldn’t forgive myself. I decided to commit suicide. At that time, Master Kanken found me and told me the truth.”

The man stared at the bonfire, flames burning in his eyes.

“A cultivator,” he hissed, “a person with a brown glow all over his body, abducted them, violated them, and finally disguised them as victims of the avalanche.”

The man slammed his fist on the snow, but the snow didn’t move.

Minamoto Kiyomoto’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his heart filled with anger and disbelief.

“The master took me to find the person who had performed the autopsy on my wife and daughter. It was indeed so.”

The man’s hand clenched into a fist, his teeth gritted.

“My whole body was stiff, as if I had been struck by lightning. Hate, anger, everything I saw was red. I just wanted to kill him!”

“But what can an ordinary person do?”

“As long as I am an ordinary person, the officials will not give me justice, will not expose that beast!”

“I will kill him, I will kill him! I will kill him!” the man let out a beast-like roar.

The roar was shrill, as if he wanted to tear his own throat out.

“Namo Ratna Trayaya,” the person named Kanken softly recited the Great Compassion Mantra.

The crowd followed suit and chanted together.

With the sound of Sanskrit, the man panted heavily, slowly calmed down, lowered his head and eyes, and recited the sutra with the crowd.

Clouds rose in the night, and the starry sky was obscured by dark clouds. The bonfire crackled, as if it had become the only firelight between heaven and earth.

“That person is yours.”

As soon as Kamibayashi Miko’s voice fell, Kanken shouted in surprise, “Who?!”

Kamibayashi Miko raised her hand and slapped out a palm. A green light burst forth, and a wave of energy swept out. Except for the man who had just recounted his experience, everyone else was sent flying.

These people swelled with divine power in the air, and the originally dark snowy mountain was instantly lit up with various brilliant lights.

Kamibayashi Miko rode the wind and chased after those people.

Himemiya Izayoi straightened her back, yawned, and leaned lazily against the snow wall.

In a blink of an eye, only Minamoto Kiyomoto and the man who had lost his wife and daughter, named Mansaku, were left at the campsite.

“Cul-ti-va-tor!” Mansaku hissed, word by word.

He roared at the sky, and an earthy divine light burst forth, his body swelling to three times its size.

The muscles on his legs, arms, shoulders, and forehead bulged. A vigorous heat rose from his sturdy body, and his bones were as heavy as iron.

His sturdy ski suit was torn to shreds.

“Kill!” Mansaku clenched his fist and threw a punch.

A strong wind, carrying snow, rushed towards Minamoto Kiyomoto.

Minamoto Kiyomoto was not to be outdone. A lightning-like purple divine power surged from his body, and he also threw a punch.

With a “boom,” a wave of energy emptied the air.

The tents, bonfire, and chairs, in the flying snow, were washed down the foot of Mount Hakuba and fell into the boundless darkness.

“Boom!” “Boom!” “Boom!”

Minamoto Kiyomoto and Mansaku quickly exchanged a few punches.

Die, die, die!
Either you die, or I die!
This will was pressed down on him with every punch from Mansaku.

Minamoto Kiyomoto felt as if he were fighting a giant bear, feeling an unprecedented pressure.

Mansaku had already gone mad, as if he were seeing the scene of his wife and daughter being violated by cultivators on the snowy mountain.

“Kill!” he roared, and struck with all his might.

Minamoto Kiyomoto rode the wind and dodged this punch, circling behind the enemy.

“Hah!” The purple light, like oil on a blazing fire, suddenly swelled. He threw a punch at Mansaku.

Mansaku suddenly twisted his body, not dodging at all.

He puffed out his chest and took Minamoto Kiyomoto’s punch head-on.

At the same time, like a giant bear hugging a tree, he wanted to twist Minamoto Kiyomoto’s body.

Minamoto Kiyomoto raised his leg and kicked him in the face, using the force to fly out.

He stood on the edge of the snowy mountain, feeling his arm go numb. The other person’s chest was as hard as a rock, just like his fist.

“Amazing!” he couldn’t help but praise.

Mansaku stood where he was, roared, and a gust of wind rolled up under his feet. He also used a wind control-like curse.

Minamoto Kiyomoto formed a Buddhist seal with his hands and chanted an incantation:

“Om, chilim, all gods assist!”

In Mansaku’s angry and stunned gaze, Minamoto Kiyomoto’s body swelled, and in a blink of an eye, it had doubled in size.

Minamoto Kiyomoto clenched his fist. Even if it was only double, he still felt full of strength.

“Cultivator!”

A strong wind came. He looked up, and Mansaku’s basketball-sized fist was already rushing towards his face.

He also didn’t dodge and threw a punch.

“Boom!”

The snowy mountain under his feet collapsed, and he fell down the ski slope.

Mansaku pursued relentlessly, flying and pouncing, and countless fists came down on Minamoto Kiyomoto from the sky.

The two of them continued down the steep ski slope.

Fist against fist, constantly making booming sounds.

A lightning-like purple light, an earthy yellow divine power, two brilliant lights were like meteors, dragging long tails on the continuous snowy mountains.

A gust of wind rolled, and a few piles of ice sculptures landed on the original campsite.

Himemiya Izayoi, who was standing on the edge of the cliff and watching Minamoto Kiyomoto, looked up. Kamibayashi Miko was descending with the wind. Those ice sculptures were the few anti-human cultivators from just now.

Kamibayashi Miko retracted her divine power and landed beside her.

“Nonsense,” seeing Minamoto Kiyomoto using the Buddhist curse he had just learned, she couldn’t help but say.

Even if he didn’t use the Eight Divine Thunders or Shinto-ryu, Minamoto Kiyomoto had also learned some other curses these past few days, but he just wouldn’t use them, insisting on using the Vajra-Glass Curse he had secretly learned today.

Mansaku’s capacity was average, and his talent was mediocre, but he had at least cultivated for more than two years.

Right now, Minamoto Kiyomoto was completely at a disadvantage.

The long period of hard-hitting had already made his fists covered in his own blood.

The wind whistled past his ears. Although Minamoto Kiyomoto was being suppressed, he still felt exhilarated, an supreme pleasure welling up.

Mansaku’s fists were full of death. Either Minamoto Kiyomoto would die, or he would.

Minamoto Kiyomoto’s fists were full of victory.

Since he was young, as long as it was related to winning or losing, he had never lost—it was this kind of confidence that was infused in his fists.

“Ah!” Mansaku roared, suddenly kicked out, and kicked Minamoto Kiyomoto into the snow.

Mansaku felt that he was in an incredible state. His whole body was hot, as if all his pores were bleeding, but his heart was as cold as ice.

He remembered Master Kanken’s teachings.

The so-called red lotus in Buddhism was like this, the extreme of cold and heat, neither fire nor water.

This was the Buddhist Vajra!
“Hum!” Mansaku’s body continued to swell, and in a blink of an eye, he had become five times the size of a normal person.

The wind and snow blew past. He stood on the mountainside like a giant of wind and snow.

“Miharu! Aya!” Mansaku felt full of strength, and yet as if he had used none.

If he had had such ability at that time, would his wife and daughter not have died on this mountain?

The snow hit his face and was melted by the heat of his body, forming water droplets that flowed down his cheeks.

Minamoto Kiyomoto flew out of the snow. The Vajra-Glass Curse had already been kicked apart, and he had returned to his normal size.

“You win,” he slightly lifted his mask and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mansaku retracted his gaze from the dark night sky and looked at Minamoto Kiyomoto.

His blood was burning, and his heart was full of anger, but his mind was very clear.

“All cultivators deserve to die!” he roared and threw a punch.

Minamoto Kiyomoto suddenly let out a long cry. His divine power stirred up a great wave of snow, and it seemed as if it were snowing heavily in the sky.

Mansaku’s punch missed. He turned his head to look around, but couldn’t see Minamoto Kiyomoto’s figure.

A bright light suddenly came from above his head. He looked up, and on the continuous ridge of the snowy mountain, a purple aurora appeared.

“Thunder and fire, arise swiftly, might of the crimson sky!”

A rolling thunder sound came from the sky. Before he could react, his body had already been sent flying.

He fell along the ski slope, along the uneven mountain ridges, and fell with a bang at the foot of the mountain.

His body shrank dramatically, and he kept spitting out blood. He lay on the snow, looking at the dark night sky, thinking in his heart:

When Miharu and Aya died, did they see such a scene?

Minamoto Kiyomoto flew over the snowy mountain, which had been collapsed by the thunder, like a bird, and landed in front of Mansaku.

Polaris’s purple light pulsed, and the tip of the sword was pressed against the enemy’s neck.

Minamoto Kiyomoto looked at Mansaku. This pitiful man had already lost his fighting spirit, and even his anger.

“…Spend the rest of your life in prison,” he sheathed his sword at his waist, stepped on the snow, and walked towards the two miko who were floating down from the top of the mountain.

“…Kill me—”

Minamoto Kiyomoto stopped.

“Miharu… I’m sorry… Aya… Dad misses you so much…”

Minamoto Kiyomoto drew the night-black Polaris from his waist and walked to Mansaku’s side.

He pressed the tip of the sword against this pitiful man’s chest.

“Brown divine power, I will avenge you,” Minamoto Kiyomoto pressed down on the hilt of the sword with his left hand, and the sword pierced Mansaku’s chest.

Mansaku’s mouth, which was gushing with blood, pulled into a very forced smile.

He looked behind Minamoto Kiyomoto. The dark clouds had scattered, and the bright starry sky cast its brilliance on the snowy mountain.

That brilliant Milky Way, which used to seem so distant, now seemed to be right before his eyes.

He heard his wife’s lullaby as she lulled their daughter to sleep.

“The red-eyed one is Scorpio.”

“The blue-eyed one is Canis Minor.”

“Ursa Major’s feet point north.”

“The one singing loudly is Orion.”

“…”

Minamoto Kiyomoto swung his sword, and the hot blood on the blade splattered on the white snow.

The snow on this small Mount Hakuba could not be melted by one person’s hot blood after all.

(End of Chapter)