Chapter 152 The Origin of the Moryo and the Fate of the Shrine Maiden Clan
Buzz!
A white beam of light, far more solid and dazzling than before, erupted from Miroku's body, piercing through the thin shield and precisely enveloping his chaotic, convulsing body!
Within the pillar of light, countless ancient golden runes flowed, radiating a sacred and powerful sealing force!
Almost at the same instant Miroku made his move!
" Adamantine Sealing Chains!"
Menma gave a low shout and raised his right hand!
The space behind him distorted, and nine incredibly thick chakra chains, gleaming with dazzling golden-red light, shot out like nine golden, furious dragons tearing through the void, carrying a magnificent divine Kamui that could pierce through all illusions and suppress all evil!
Puff! Puff! Puff! Puff!
The chains pierced through the eight snake heads on the chakra body and the core connection points, as well as the very core of the chakra source!
The body, composed of pure Dark Chakra, emitted a piercing scream that reached the very soul under the power of the Adamantine Sealing Chains!
The dark purple chakra boiled and dissipated violently as if it had encountered its nemesis!
Nine golden-red chains, like the strongest locks, tightly bound and tightened, forcibly compressing and binding his enormous, constantly struggling chakra body!
"Seal!" Miroku used the last bit of his spiritual power to slam his hands together in a mudra!
The dazzling white beams of light and the golden-red chains intertwined, forming a massive, rotating sealing array!
At the center of the magic circle, the eight ferocious snake heads let out a final, unwilling, and hateful hiss. Together with their massive dark purple chakra bodies, they were forcibly dragged and compressed, eventually transforming into a twisted, purplish-black stream of light, which was completely absorbed into the core of the sealing magic circle!
With a flash of light, the magic circle rapidly shrank, eventually transforming into a palm-sized, purplish-black pottery jar covered in mysterious runes. It fell with a clatter onto the blood-stained stone slab in front of the shrine.
The deafening battlefield instantly fell into a deathly silence.
Only the wind blowing through the blood-soaked shrine produced a mournful sound.
The desiccated corpses scattered all over the ground, the broken ice crystals, the charred marks from the fire, and the sealed pottery jar lying quietly on the stone slab, all silently testify to the tragic events that had just ended.
Miroku could no longer hold on; her body went limp, and she collapsed behind the palace gate. Shion was behind her, hugged her tightly and cried loudly.
Uchiha Hikari slowly closed his Mangekyō Sharingan, the crimson in his eyes fading and returning to the deep black of a pool. He stared at Kimimaro and Hyaku, seemingly evaluating their mission.
Kimimaro retracted the bone blade from his body. His pale face revealed no emotion, only slightly rapid breathing.
Bai collapsed to his knees, panting heavily, his forehead covered in cold sweat. Maintaining the Ice Mirror Labyrinth and the subsequent attacks had nearly exhausted his chakra.
Menma slowly retracted the Adamantine Sealing Chains on his back, and the golden light dissipated into the air.
He turned around, his white Three-Eyed Fox Mask facing the main hall. His empty eye sockets swept over the collapsed Miroku and the weeping Shion, finally settling on the sealed purplish-black pottery jar at his feet.
In front of the main shrine, on the Asura soaked in blood and ice, the air was thick with the stench of blood, burnt flesh, and corpses. The stench had not dissipated after the battle ended; instead, it became even more pungent and sticky as the evening breeze stirred it.
The ground was littered with twisted, mummified corpses; broken ice crystals reflected the dim moonlight; and charred marks from burning resembled scars.
Everything silently testifies to the battle that has just taken place.
Ashikishi, who had been anxiously watching the battle from the periphery, practically tumbled and crawled across the wreckage after the fighting ended, collapsing before the tightly closed doors of the main hall.
"Lord Miroku! Miss Shion!" he cried out, his trembling hands pushing open the heavy palace door.
Inside the door, Miroku sat slumped on the cold floor, his face ashen, dried blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth, and the front of his wide white priestess robe stained red.
She held the still-soothing Shion tightly in her arms. The little girl's Zira eyes were filled with fear, and her small body was trembling in her mother's arms.
"How are you, sir?" Ashikishi hurriedly stepped forward and carefully helped Miroku up.
Miroku barely managed to stand steady by using the support of his Ashikishi, but his gaze went past him and landed on the open space outside the hall, which was stained by both moonlight and blood.
There, the dark red figure stood silently, its white Three-Eyed Fox Mask turned toward the hall, its empty eye sockets seemingly piercing through the shadows of the doorway.
"You—." Miroku's voice was weak but clear, carrying a plea.
"You can call me, Asura." Menma's figure silently stepped into the hall.
A faint smell of blood filled the hall, along with the suppressed sobs of a little girl.
Menma stood casually in the shadows near the door. Moonlight streamed through the high window, illuminating only half of his dark red robe and the jawline of his cold mask.
He didn't speak, but simply watched as Miroku, supported by his Ashikishi, Earth Flow and sat down beside the low table in the center of the hall.
Ashikishi quickly and carefully placed the purplish-black pottery jar covered with mysterious runes, which he had picked up from outside, on the low table.
The earthenware jar was warm to the touch, as if the evil imprisoned within was still writhing resentfully.
Miroku gently held the pottery jar in front of him, as if cradling a sleeping infant, or protecting something that might shatter at any moment.
Shion nestled beside her, her little hands tightly gripping her mother's sleeve. Her purple eyes, still brimming with tears, couldn't help but curiously observe the mysterious man wearing a terrifying mask a few steps away.
Outside the palace, under the cool moonlight.
Uchiha Hikari stood quietly with his back to the main hall's entrance.
Her dark blue, high-necked tribal robe fluttered slightly in the night breeze as she warily scanned every shadowy corner around the shrine that might harbor danger.
Not far away, Kaguya Kimimaro leaned against a broken stone pillar, silently closing her eyes to regulate her breathing. Her face was expressionless, and her chest rose and fell slightly.
Bai sat on a relatively clean stone step, hugging his knees, breathing heavily, his face still somewhat pale.
Clearly, the battle just now was somewhat difficult for the two of them, after all, they were facing six Jonin-level enemies.
However, Yomi and the others only reached Jonin strength by borrowing evil chakra, so there is still a gap between them and Jonin who reached their level through their own training.
The three members of the Uchiha Hikari, like three silent boundary markers, separated the conversation inside the hall from the bloodshed and danger outside, quietly awaiting the arrival of reinforcements from the Land of Stars.
The air inside the hall was stagnant and heavy, with only the occasional sob from Shion and the soft crackling of the burning candlelight.
"What exactly is it?" Menma's voice finally broke the silence, like a pebble thrown into a deep pool.
His gaze fell on the ominous-looking earthenware pot on the low table.
Miroku's fingers tightened slightly as he held the pottery jar, his knuckles turning somewhat white.
She took a deep breath, a movement that aggravated her internal injuries, causing her to wince in pain.
Ashikishi nervously tried to step forward, but was stopped by a look from her.
"Its name is..." Miroku's voice was soft, tinged with weariness.
"Everyone believes it to be an ancient demon, a calamity descended from another world." She slowly shook her head, her gaze lowered, staring at the flowing runes on the pottery jar, as if staring at a nightmare that had haunted countless generations.
But it is not actually an external object.
She raised her head, her purple eyes, which could foresee the future, now filled with sorrow, staring directly at the two unfathomable depths beneath the mask.
"It is the evil of the human heart, the dark thoughts that have bred in war, oppression, fear, and greed among countless generations. Like a filthy river, it flows and converges on this land, eventually stirring up violent Natural Energy and shaping it into this terrifying entity."
Miroku's voice, heavy with a sense of destiny, echoed in the empty hall, "Restriction is the mission of our lineage of priestesses." She gently stroked the warm clay pot. "We are containers, we are dams. With our pure priestess power and life, we contain, guide, and seal away the filth and hatred that grows from the human heart and is amplified infinitely by the forces of nature."
"We are the other side of this darkness, a shackle that coexists with it yet must also bind it."
She paused slightly, as if recalling what she had just said.
A bitter smile appeared on her pale lips, "That's why it's said—we are one. As long as the darkness in people's hearts persists, the root of evil will never dry up. Sealing it once is merely temporarily plugging the breach in the flood."
"As long as there is suffering, injustice, and endless desire and hatred in the world, it will eventually return."
"The fate of the priestess clan is to pass down from generation to generation the task of filling this bottomless abyss dug by the human heart with their lives."
Shion listened, seemingly understanding but not quite, her little face filled with confusion and fear. She clung tightly to Miroku's arm and asked timidly, "Mother, why do bad things come from our hearts?"
Miroku didn't answer his daughter's innocent question, but simply hugged her tighter, his gaze turning again to Menma, filled with an almost desperate search. " Asura, the Land of Stars you established claims to end war and oppression. Perhaps this is the only chance to break this endless cycle of darkness? If the human heart can find peace, it will eventually lose its source of power."
Menma remained silent.
The white mask cast shifting shadows in the flickering candlelight, completely concealing his expression.
Menma made no promises or answers to Miroku's questions, his gaze remaining fixed on the pottery jar that sealed away endless hatred.
He is now almost certain that the power used by the priestess is Natural Energy, and that the evil in people's hearts gave birth to such a monster; even if it is sealed, it is only temporary.
Just like the movie version of the original work, they will break free from the seal ten years later. Even if there is no Yomi, there will be characters like Purple Spring and Red Spring to do this.
Inside the main hall, only the restless flickering of the candlelight and the mournful sound of the night wind sweeping through the ruins of the shrine remained.
"She possesses even greater power than you, so why seal it away?" Menma stared intently at the little Shion behind Miroku.
Mind's Eye of the Kagura that the immense energy within the other person was sealed by a Bell Brooch on their chest.
Miroku was slightly startled upon hearing this. She looked down at her daughter and hugged her tightly, as if drawing warmth from her last moments.
"I just want her to be an ordinary girl, to grow up safely." Miroku, as her mother, was well aware of the power within Shion.
However, the fate of the witch clan made Miroku, as a mother, feel very guilty towards Shion, and she had even prepared to seal her away at the cost of her own life.