Outside the Training Camp Grounds, deep in the dense, dark mountain forest.
Far enough from the bustling Training Ground and its thunderous shouts that neither a ray of sunlight nor a swordsman's senses could reach it, space warped strangely beneath a patch of shadow covered in slippery moss and twisted roots.
An grotesquely elongated "telescope eyeball" quivered slightly, aimed toward the Training Camp Grounds. Countless thin tubes connected to its back, stretching into the shadows toward the twisted outline of a pot.
"Ugh... what a... what a filthy, unbearable sight! These antlike creatures actually think they can challenge our noble art through this... this barbaric exercise? How laughable! How pathetic!" Gyokko's voice oozed from his throat, thick with utter disgust and hatred for humans.
His "telescope eyeball" swept over every detail of the camp.
The endless sea of wisteria blossoms was the first insurmountable barrier keeping him away.
The fully armed squads of swordsmen tirelessly taking turns patrolling the perimeter were the second.
What truly made his scalp crawl were the figures standing or sitting inside the camp, their auras so powerful he could faintly sense them even from this distance-Hashira-level swordsmen scattered among the rest stations or supervising training in different areas!
"Damn it... damn it!" Gyokko's pot trembled slightly with anger.
"Not a single opening! Those lowly ordinary swordsmen are one thing, but why are even the guards watching the kitchen and supplies... Hashira?! That perpetually stone-faced Water Hashira is actually squatting outside the kitchen gnawing on a radish?! Does that make any sense?! Any sense at all?!"
Over the past few days, he had tried countless methods:
Capture a lone Corps member? Those swordsmen patrolled every day. None of them ever went off alone.
Poison the stream at its source? Several squads of swordsmen took shifts guarding