Main World.
Spring, Year 18 of Konoha.
New Capital, British Continent.
In the secret chamber deep within the Imperial Palace, the Dragon Vein's light flickered like breathing. Toyotomi Yinglang sat cross-legged at the center of the formation, his eyes tightly closed. His spiritual energy reached like countless invisible tentacles into the depths of the void, toward a grayish-white point of light taking shape there-the embryonic Underworld.
He had already sat there for seven days and seven nights.
Building an independent pocket world was harder than he had expected. The Immortal Mangekyō's eye power was being steadily consumed, Dragon Vein Power replenished it without pause, and his spiritual energy grew purer through repeated tempering.
But it was all worthwhile.
Because he was creating. Not destroying, not plundering, but creating. Creating an afterlife that belonged to the Empire, to the Toyotomi Clan, and to himself.
"The Eighteen Levels of Hell will go here."
He murmured to himself, his spiritual energy outlining a structure that extended downward, level by level, in the void. Each level was deeper, darker, and more oppressive than the last.
"The farther down, the harsher the punishment."
He lightly tapped a finger against the void. At the location of the eighteenth level, a dark red point of light lit up and began rotating slowly. It was the seed of a new Soul Yin Mountain.
"On the eighteenth level, I'll establish a new Soul Yin Mountain."
A cold smile curved his lips.
"The suffering of the wicked will nourish Soul Yin Mountain. The Soul Yin Stones it produces will, in turn, sustain the Underworld. The more stable the Underworld becomes, the more Soul Yin Stones the mountain will produce. It's a positive cycle."
He withdrew his spiritual energy and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing for a moment. Then