You Came from Dandong

"Ahem... look, don't hold me so tight. I'm about to pass out from hunger..."

Just as the mood between the two grew a little delicate, an utterly mood-ruining commotion came from beside them.

"My savior! Please accept my bow!"

The swordsman whose legs were unbroken scrambled over to Rokuya. Paying no heed to the mud and gravel on the ground, he dropped to his knees with a thud and knocked his forehead against the ground three times.

Every bow landed solidly, and blood immediately seeped from his forehead, but he seemed unable to feel the pain.

"Thank you! Thank you for saving my life! If it weren't for you, I... I'd already be that monster's shit!" The boy's voice was hoarse, his face smeared with tears and snot. "My name is Murata! For your great kindness, I'll spend the rest of my life working like an ox or a horse to repay you!"

The swordsman with the broken leg also struggled over, dragging himself along with both hands. Unable to bow, he could only bury his face deep in the dirt, his shoulders heaving violently as he let out stifled sobs.

"I'm sorry... I told you to run earlier. I even thought you couldn't beat it... I deserve to die!" The boy with the broken leg could barely speak through his sobs. "Thank you... thank you for not giving up on us... I thought weaklings like us were destined to be nothing but bait to be abandoned... thank you..."

Rokuya had truly dragged them back from the depths of despair. No words could describe their gratitude at being given a new lease on life after facing certain death.

They no longer looked at Rokuya as someone their own age, but as a god descended to the mortal world.

At that very moment.

System notifications rang wildly through Rokuya's mind like thunderclaps, almost bursting his skull.

[Ding! Extremely intense gratitude detected!]

[Target: Murata. Gratitude type: life-saving debt (extremely sincere). Gratitude Points gained: 500!]

[Target: unnamed swordsman. Gratitude type: life-saving debt and guilt (soul-shaking). Gratitude Points gained: 300!]

[Ding! Gratitude and intense feelings of attachment detected from important character "Kanae Kocho." Additional Gratitude Points gained: 800!]

[Current Gratitude Points total has skyrocketed! Basic exchange access unlocked in the system shop...]

Listening to that string of dings in his mind and watching his Gratitude Points balance shoot straight upward, Rokuya's cheeks, pale from extreme hunger, instantly flushed with undisguisable ecstasy.

I'm rich... I really hit the jackpot this time! Rokuya roared inwardly. He had killed several groups of small-fry demons before, and all the Gratitude Points he had painstakingly saved still totaled less than a thousand. Saving lives really was the most valuable thing in this world!

Though he was inwardly overjoyed, Rokuya maintained his aloof, impossibly arrogant demeanor on the surface.

He gently pushed Kanae away, rose from the ground, and looked down at the two weeping boys.

"Enough. Stop blubbering in front of me. It's ugly." Rokuya waved impatiently, his tone cold and hard. "I just couldn't stand that disgusting bug acting cocky in front of me, so I killed it while I was at it. Since you survived, get the hell out of these woods. Follow the scent of wisteria down the mountain and withdraw. Don't die here and offend my eyes."

Despite Rokuya's scolding, Murata and the swordsman with the broken leg were not angry at all. Instead, their gratitude grew beyond measure. They knew that this seemingly cold boy was actually protecting them in a roundabout way, telling them to hurry away from this dangerous place.

"Yes! Take care, my savior! We'll make it down alive!"

Murata wiped away his tears and gritted his teeth as he hoisted his injured companion onto his back. The two took another long look at Rokuya and Kanae, then limped toward the wisteria grove.

Watching their retreating figures, Kanae walked over to Rokuya, deftly took bandages from inside her clothes, and began wrapping the bruise on his left shoulder.

"Rokuya, you're clearly a very gentle person. Why do you insist on making your words sound so harsh?" Kanae asked softly, a smile that saw through everything tugging at her lips.

"Who's gentle? I'm just a pragmatist who'll use any means necessary to get stronger." Rokuya pursed his lips, stubbornly refusing to admit it.

Grrrrumble-

The moment he finished speaking, a thunderous rumble erupted from Rokuya's stomach.

The scene instantly fell deathly silent.

A rare, embarrassed blush crept onto Rokuya's cold, handsome face.

Kanae froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. The tension the battle had left in her completely dissipated at that moment.

She took a rice ball tightly wrapped in oiled paper from a pocket close to her body and held it out to Rokuya.

"Here, oh great pragmatist. I secretly saved this before entering the mountain. If you don't mind it, why not have something to tide you over?" Kanae's smile bloomed like a flower, a mischievous gleam sparkling in her eyes.

Rokuya looked at the rice ball, swallowed, and snatched it from her.

"At least you know what's good for you." He took a vicious bite and muttered indistinctly.

The night breeze swept over Mount Fujikasane, carrying a faint scent of blood, yet a strange warmth flowed between the two in that clearing.

"Let's go. I need a full stomach to keep cutting people down." Rokuya finished the rice ball in a few bites, picked up the heavy katana again, and looked toward the endless darkness deeper in the woods.

"Over the next few days, I'll kill every last demon on this mountain."

The nights on Mount Fujikasane had never been so noisy.

Normally, swordsmen taking part in the Final Selection would spend the long seven days hiding like frightened quails in bushes, tree hollows, or foul-smelling mud pits, praying the demons would not find them.

But now, everything had changed.

Boom-!!

A raging bolt of intertwined gold and blue lightning tore out from deep within the pitch-black forest. Accompanied by deafening thunder, it instantly vaporized three demons gnawing on corpses into a cloud of bloody mist before they could even scream.

A charred furrow stretched dozens of meters, the trees along its path torn apart by the violent sword energy.

At the end of this scorched earth, Takanashi Rokuno held his heavily notched, heavy katana and impatiently flicked the filthy blood from its blade. The silver-blue aura of demonic power around him burned as though tangible, completely driving back the surrounding darkness.

"So weak, yet so full of crap. Can't something show up that can take a few hits?"

Rokuya turned his head slightly, his expression cold.

Dozens of meters behind him followed a great procession of twenty or thirty candidates who should have been fleeing for their lives separately. Murata and the swordsman with the broken leg walked at the front, supported by others. Every one of them stared fixedly at Rokuya's back with a look bordering on fanaticism and reverence.

It was the look one gave the sun.