"Clang!..."
The October cold wind swept through the reeds along the Ezo River, carrying the chill of Far North Asia. The north and south armies, over a thousand men in all, stood with their fleets at their backs, facing each other across the Great River. And at that moment, as the crisp ring of drawn blades colliding sounded out, the warriors on both banks raised their weapons at once and stared tensely toward the leaders trading by the riverside.
"Morino, I treated you as a trustworthy trading partner... but your performance this time doesn't seem like you want to trade with us for long!... Tell me the truth. Are you trying to rob me?!..."
Zuwaro's eyes were icy, and the Iron Knife in his hand was colder still. The blade, edged with that chill, rested just like that against Morino Kiyoshi's neck, making his whole body go stiff as fear showed on his face. He glanced slightly aside, looking at Zuwaro's expression, full of killing intent and indifference, and suddenly realized once again...
No matter how amiable this Sanda Mongol chieftain looked, no matter how cultured, he was still a northern barbarian! In the other man's blood and bones was a savagery he had been born with, and he had never held any fear toward slaughter or death. In other words, for certain things difficult to understand, he did not care about other people's lives, nor did he care about his own!
And those Sanda Warriors wrapped in hides and armor looked even more like living Yuan Invader demon soldiers who had stepped straight out of the Moko Shurai Ekotoba. That aura of wilderness and brutality likewise belonged to men long accustomed to life and death, hungry for slaughter and blood!
"Cough!... Buddha be my witness! Zuwaro, I swear in