Underground *Secret Meeting

Hashirama asked, "So where did that thing called Kyōkotsu come from?"

Mokushō shrugged. "How would I know?"

"Aren't you the owner of this place?" Hashirama, somewhat confused.

"It's probably because I was still alive when this guy was sealed in." Mokushō looked at the fragments scattered on the ground and fell into deep thought.

I always felt I really hated this thing, but why? Whose emotions were at play?

Hashirama moment. "Wait, isn't Inari God a very ancient deity?"

"Yes."

"But your behavior..."

"Didn't I already say it was an invocation of the gods?" Mokushō interrupted him, spreading his hands. "I am the Inari God of this generation, that's all."

Tobirama frowned. "You said before that the dead could be resurrected."

"The name of Inari God of death, is transferred to others; that's also called resurrection," Mokushō said frankly, without the slightest hesitation, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary.

Tobirama stared at him, and for a moment felt a chill run down his spine.

"You..." he began, his voice slower than before, "Aren't you afraid of dying?"

"They'll come back to life, what am I afraid of?"

"That's not resurrection!" Tobirama's tone suddenly became serious. "That's the god inhabiting someone else!"

Mokushō tilted his head. "Hmm, so?"

"Then you wouldn't be yourself!"

"Oh! You misunderstood." Mokushō raised his hand and casually waved his fingers. "I am first and foremost the Inari God, and only secondly Mokushō. I can be anyone."

The next second, he stepped out from Tobirama.

"I could be 'Tobirama Senju'."

Tobirama suddenly turned his head, his pupils shrinking sharply.

Standing behind him was a person who looked exactly like him, with white hair, Red Eyes, and an expressionless face; even the wrinkles on his collar were the same.

Then that person disappeared, and Mokushō's voice came from the other side.

"I can also be Hashirama Senju."

A lifelike Hashirama stood there, grinning with a gentle smile, exactly like the real Hashirama.

"I could also be Madara Uchiha, or Uchiha Izuna."

Mokushō perfectly replicated Madara's usual cold and aloof expression. Then, that face transformed into Izuna's.

Izuna stared at the face that was exactly like his own, a troubled expression on his face. "That's weird, buddy."

"Izuna's " face fell. "Hey, don't sabotage me."

The next instant, he transformed back into Mokushō, wearing a fox mask.

He stood back in his original spot, hands on his hips.

Tobirama frowned, his gaze still lingering with wariness. "What's the principle behind this?"

"As long as you believe I am Inari God and have faith in your hearts, then I can be any believer; I am the believer myself," said Mokushō. "Eight million Yōkai are also eight million gods."

Madara rubbed his temples. "This is a complete mess..."

"It was quite chaotic." Mokushō shrugged.

Mokushō put his hands on his hips and looked around at everyone present. "Do you have any more questions?"

No one spoke immediately.

Hashirama stroked his chin, seemingly considering something, but ultimately swallowed his words.

Ban's gaze lingered on Mokushō for a moment before shifting away. His brows weren't completely relaxed, but he didn't press the matter further.

Tobirama stood to the side with his arms crossed, his expression indifferent, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

Izuna yawned.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet Shrine courtyard.

He quickly covered his mouth with the back of his hand, blinked his slightly moist eyes, and looked innocently at the gazes coming from all around him.

"It's pretty late now," Mokushō said. "Why don't we go to sleep first and continue tomorrow?"

Madara glanced at Izuna, and seeing that he was indeed tired, nodded. "Let's talk about it tomorrow."

Hashirama stretched, his joints cracking twice. "Alright, let's go back then. Today's been long enough."

Tobirama had already turned and walked out of the Shrine, but after taking two steps, he stopped and looked back at the Main Hall, which had been partially destroyed, and the courtyard, which was in complete disarray.

What should we do about this?

"I'll clean up," Mokushō waved his hand. "You guys go back first."

Tobirama glanced at him for two seconds, said nothing, and followed Hashirama.

"Izuna."

"Wait for me," Izuna ran into the house, slung the Crow Netsuke around his waist, and returned to Madara's side. "Let's go."

On the way, Izuna yawned slightly, and a tear welled up in the corner of his eye.

Are you sleepy?

"Hmm." Izuna rubbed his eyes. "Too much to do today."

Ban didn't say anything more, but walked beside him, slowing his pace.

The four of them walked down the stone steps in front of the Shrine. Mokushō stood at the Shrine entrance, watching their figures disappear at the end of the steps.

The gaze beneath the fox mask fell silently on Izuna until his silhouette disappeared into the night.

He withdrew his gaze, turned around, and faced the dilapidated Main Hall and the rubble scattered on the ground.

"Sigh." He sighed, bent down to pick up the broken half of the door frame from the ground, and weighed it in his hand. "Now we'll have to spend money to fix it again. I haven't even collected much incense offerings yet, and I'm losing money again..."

A night breeze blew in through the missing corner of the roof, causing the oil lamp in front of the shrine to flicker.

The night pressed heavily over the streets of the Land of Hot Water. The moon was mostly swallowed by thick clouds, with only a few pale rays of light peeking through the gaps and falling on the bluestone slabs.

The wind swept in from the sea, carrying the salty, fishy smell of decaying leaves.

Deep in the alley, a crow perched on a crooked wooden post, its head tilted, its beady black eyes fixed on a dark entrance.

It shook its wings, let out a short, harsh cry, then fluttered up and flew over the eaves, disappearing into the night.

The underground corridor is very long.

The stone walls were damp, seeping water droplets, and every few steps there was an oil lamp embedded in the wall, the flame so weak that it could barely illuminate the path beneath one's feet.

The man in the black robe walked very lightly, the hem of his cloak trailing on the stone pavement, making a soft rustling sound.

As you walk deeper into the corridor, the musty smell in the air is gradually replaced by the smell of burning incense.

A door appeared ahead.

Bright light shone through the crack in the door, a warm, golden glow that seemed to belong to a completely different world from the dimness of the corridor. The man in black robes walked to the door, stopped, and pushed it open.

Dozens of lights were lit in the room, arranged at varying heights, illuminating the entire space brightly.

Heavy curtains hung on the walls, embroidered with intricate patterns in gold thread, from which one could vaguely discern some ancient symbols.

In the center of the room was a circle of stone chairs, and in the center of the circle stood a man.

The man was of medium build, with a thin face, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes that shone unusually brightly under the light.

He was wearing a black kimono with subtle embroidery on the hem, and he stood there as if he had been waiting for a long time.

The man in black robes stood at the doorway, not stepping inside, and spoke across the threshold, "Keito, what do you mean by this? Why did you convene this meeting?"

His voice was filled with barely suppressed anger.

A circle of people in black robes had already surrounded the stone chair, sitting or standing here and there. The hoods of their cloaks covered most of their faces, with only their chins and lips showing.

No one spoke; the atmosphere was as heavy as lead.

Keito raised his head, his gaze fixed on the man in black robes before him, and said calmly, "Nothing. I just wanted to confirm whether any of you had seen Uchiha Izuna's performance."

The man in black sneered, "Just because of this, you've gone to such lengths to gather everyone here?"

Keito seemed somewhat smug. "I just don't want some people to develop disrespect for Lord Jashin."

"Keito, you're in too much of a hurry." The man in black robes took a step forward, crossing the threshold, the hem of his cloak sweeping the ground. "Such haste and elegance is disrespectful to the Evil God, isn't it?"

Before he could finish speaking, a voice came from the other side of the stone chair.

"No."

The voice was neither hurried nor slow, carrying an unquestionable quality.

All eyes turned to them.

From the shadow of the stone chair, a figure slowly stood up.

The light shone on his face, and it turned out to be Bishamonten.

One of the rulers of the Land of Hot Water was actually the leader of this gathering.

"This is true respect for the Lord Jashin," Bishamonten. "Everyone knows this, which is why we are all here."

He glanced around at the men in black robes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you all know one thing: what has brought us together here is only one simple and great goal."

"That is to create a completely new future, a future ruled by us."

The lamplight cast deep shadows on his face, making his eyes appear to flicker between light and shadow.

"The Summer Festival is approaching, and the power struggles between nations are about to begin. And we... will be the absolute protagonists. Following in the footsteps of the Evil God, we will unravel a new chapter in history. Once nations witness our power, they will submit to us out of fear."

He turned his head and his gaze fell on the man in black in front of him.

"Daikokuten, you know us. We once stood at the pinnacle of power. That power will return to our hands."

"Those traitors are weakening their power. The government they lead is corrupt and incompetent, just like the Land of Hot Water now, struggling to survive while considering itself superior."

Bishamonten opened his arms wide, as if to embrace the entire world, and proclaimed loudly.

"Ninjas will eventually become the mainstream of this world. But they can't see reality. Since that's the case... then we will rebuild this world! The Evil God will cleanse all the sins of this world. At that time, we will rebuild this world, making it better and more just."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then the Daikokuten laughed.

A scornful laugh came from beneath the cloak. "If it were before, I might have been moved by your words."

"But now it seems utterly ridiculous."

Bishamonten squinted his eyes.

Daikokuten took half a step forward, and the light fell on his hood, outlining half of his jawline.

"You know you're like that flirtatious harlot, with an ugly face but pretending to be righteous."

Despite being so insulted, Bishamonten's face remained unmoved; he simply looked down at Daikokuten with a calm and aloof expression.

Daikokuten didn't stop; facing everyone in the stone chair circle, he raised his voice slightly.

"To put it bluntly, all you want are sacrifices to awaken your so-called Evil God, right?"

He glanced around, his gaze beneath the cloak scraping across everyone's face like a knife.

"Everyone, after watching Lord Izuna's performance, I finally understand what it means."

He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"No matter what, I am unwilling to use human lives as a sacrifice to awaken that so-called Evil God."

The room fell completely silent.

The lamp flame flickered in the wind, stretching the shadow on Bishamonten's face even longer.

"Of course," Bishamonten smiled, "You can absolutely think that way."

Daikokuten squinted. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I do not wish to participate in this absurd matter any longer. Please excuse me."

Bishamonten warned, "If I were you, I wouldn't do that."

Daikokuten sneered, "If you can stop me, then try."

He turned to leave as he spoke.

But the next second, he found himself unable to move.

Bishamonten raised his hand.

The movements were so slow that everyone could clearly see his fingers spreading out under the light.

His palms faced upwards, his fingers slightly bent, as if he were supporting something unseen. The air began to thicken, and the lamp flames suddenly flickered, all dropping half an inch in height.

"You..." Daikokuten gritted his teeth, "When did you—"

Bishamonten said, "You've forgotten where we are now."

The Daikokuten's gaze suddenly fell upon his feet.

On the bluestone pavement, a thin ring of dark red lines spread outwards from the soles of his feet, like blood seeping from the cracks in the stone. The lines wove together to form a circle, inside which was drawn a triangular symbol.

Then look at your legs, your hands...

Blood had already flowed like a river before anyone knew it.

"You think I'd let you stand here and leave after you've said your piece?" Bishamonten's tone carried an almost gentle mockery. "Daikokuten, you've been in this assembly for so long, how can you still be so naive?"

Daikokuten did not reply.

He watched as a figure emerged from the end of the dark corridor in front of him and came into the spotlight.

It was himself... another Daikokuten, another Kuroshiki Gyōun.

"Your soul has already been devoured by the Lord Jashin," Bishamonten withdrew his hand, placing it behind his back. "It's too late to back out now."

Daikokuten slowly closed his eyes. "When?"

A long time ago.

Daikokuten suddenly laughed, a sound that was particularly clear in the quiet room.

The black-robed figures around them remained motionless and silent, simply watching like a row of silent stone statues.

"Keito." Daikokuten tilted his head, looking at the black-robed man who had spoken first at the door, "And you? Are you also part of his plan?"

Kuroshiki Keito did not answer.

He stood in the doorway, his cloak's hood pulled low, obscuring his expression.

Daikokuten withdrew his gaze. "Before we make a move, I have something I'd like to ask."

"You say."

How many sacrifices are needed for Evil God to descend to earth?

You don't need to know this.

"Yūya!"

"Alright," Bishamonten sighed, slowly uttering a number, "Three thousand people."

"Three thousand," Daikokuten repeated the number. "The Summer Festival of the Land of Hot Water, envoys from various countries, commoners, merchants, entertainers... it's almost exactly right."

"That's right," said Bishamonten.

Daikokuten wanted to say something, but excessive blood loss made him dizzy, and the Ninjutsu that had been holding him in place seemed to have disappeared. He staggered a couple of times, then staggered two steps toward the exit, and finally... collapsed at the feet of the new Daikokuten.