Information about Shuten Dōji soon arrived from Yasaka Shrine, along with instructions for the next phase of action.
Since Shuten Dōji was known as the Oni King of Mt. Ōe, it naturally followed that his stronghold lay within that mountain range.
However, the question was—what exactly was Mt. Ōe? That was the key detail this report contained.
Of course, with the Tenseigan, Satsuki possessed countless methods to locate Shuten Dōji herself. But doing so would defeat her purpose.
She had once said, "Whether Shuten Dōji lives or dies is irrelevant—what matters is his ability."
Mt. Ōe referred to a vast series of peaks located at the base of the Tango Peninsula in Kyoto Prefecture. (In modern terms, it stretches across the towns of Yosano, Fukuchiyama, and Miyazu—a chain of mountains spanning one of the key routes into Kyoto.) The range was often shrouded in thick clouds and mist.
Naturally, Yasaka Shrine's intelligence extended far beyond mere geography. It included a detailed report on the Oni King's forces as well.
As a demon who had lived for centuries, Shuten Dōji was no ordinary yokai. Even with the divine children of Yasaka Shrine sacrificing their lives in battle, he had survived countless purges. Such a being could not be simple.
In addition to his own immense power, Shuten Dōji once commanded four powerful oni lieutenants—though two had already been slain by Yasaka Shrine's exorcist priestesses.
The remaining two were Hoshiguma Dōji and Ibaraki Dōji.
Both possessed strength on par with great daiyōkai. Though not as formidable as Shuten Dōji himself, they were still powerful forces in their own right.
This time, Yasaka Shrine's plan was to eliminate one of them first—Hoshiguma Dōji.
"Tell me, Sesshōmaru," Satsuki asked the silent demon lord beside her, who sat with eyes closed, lost in thought after their earlier battle, "the dog clan has ruled the Western Lands for generations. What is your clan's stance toward this Oni King of Mt. Ōe?"
Sesshōmaru opened his golden eyes slowly. "The oni and the dog clan dwell in different realms. We have no reason to interfere with each other."
"If it were any other species of yokai, perhaps," Satsuki said softly. "But according to some reports, the Great Dog General held a certain fondness for humans beyond that of any ordinary yokai. Do you truly think he could tolerate such a demonic power existing freely within his domain?"
"My father's attitude toward Shuten Dōji's faction is his own concern," Sesshōmaru replied coldly. His tone betrayed faint irritation—as though even mentioning his father's personal affairs displeased him. "The truth is, the dog clan's authority now lies in the hands of Princess Inukimi. My father has long since lost his power."
To forsake a kingdom for love—such a foolish romanticism… of a dog, no less.
Satsuki found the notion difficult to comprehend. The Great Dog General should have understood better the balance between affection and responsibility. In this age, humanity was a race that demanded protection.
And to protect the weak required strength—strength that came not only from personal might, but from influence and leadership.
By relinquishing his authority, the Great Dog General had deliberately weakened himself, relying solely on his own power. Yet, if misfortune ever befell him, what protection would the human woman he loved possibly have left?
Satsuki's thoughts wandered briefly. Even with a glance, she could see how irrational such decisions appeared when viewed through logic alone.
But when it came to matters of the heart, reason was a rare thing among all living beings.
"Earlier," Satsuki said suddenly, changing the subject, "I heard you seemed intrigued by Ruri's barrier technique."
For once, she had leisure to speak to her so-called disciple. In recent days, she had been consumed by the planning of the Decree of Separation Between Gods and Buddhas and had little time for idle conversation.
Upon hearing her mention Ruri's Boundless Barrier, Sesshōmaru's expression grew serious. For this proud and aloof yokai, there were few things in this world that could hold his attention—except great power.
Satsuki spoke evenly, her tone calm as ever. "Do you remember what I once told you? You do not lack strength. What you lack is the heart to bear that strength."
"Heart?" Sesshōmaru gazed toward the distant mountains, his voice cold. "I have no need for such a thing."
"You should count yourself fortunate," Satsuki said softly. "Had you met another teacher, they would have filled your head with moral judgments and ideals."
Satsuki spoke calmly. "You should be grateful for your noble lineage and birth. Though your yōki is still somewhat immature compared to veterans like the Great Dog General and Princess Inukimi, surpassing them is only a matter of time."
"But strength and power are not directly proportional," she continued. "Just as the quality of a blade is not determined solely by its hardness."
As she spoke, Satsuki raised her hand—and the Sword of Samsara materialized within her grasp.
The moment it appeared, Sesshōmaru's eyes narrowed. It was under this very blade that his invincible father had once been defeated in a spar.
Yet Satsuki's tone remained calm and deliberate as she continued her lesson.
"The curvature of the blade—does it flow smoothly and gracefully? Are its thickness and polish uniform? Are the forging patterns consistent and harmonious?"
"Are there scratches or marks left from the grinding process?"
"Next comes its elasticity. A true blade possesses resilience—it is tough, not merely hard."
"Then there's the weight—every katana has its mass, of course, but what matters is balance. A truly fine blade, when laid flat on its edge, can stand upright on its own."
"And finally, the most important aspect of all—the feeling. A true blade has a soul. Not only does the wielder choose the sword—the sword also chooses its wielder. Only when the two are perfectly attuned can both unleash their greatest strength."
Satsuki placed the Sword of Samsara upon the tatami. To Sesshōmaru's astonishment, the divine sword—capable of rivaling Tessaiga—stood perfectly upright, balanced without tilt or tremor.
The daiyōkai stared at the blade, his sharp mind turning over Satsuki's words again and again. Her analogy sank deep into his thoughts.
After a long silence, he finally murmured, "You mean… the role of the heart is to balance and unify?"
"Not only that," Satsuki replied softly.
"At present, you are like a blade that is always drawn—a brilliant weapon whose gleam is too dazzling to face directly. Though not yet fully formed, you already possess the makings of a peerless sword. In time, you will surely become a being of greatness."
Her tone grew quieter, almost wistful. "But this world offers endless trials. Generations will rise one after another to challenge you. And one day, you too will reach your limit. When that time comes, you will end as all great swords do—either enshrined for others to admire…"
Her voice trailed off. Then, with a faint motion, she extended one slender finger and tapped the Sword of Samsara lightly on its surface.
A crisp ding~ rang through the air.
Sesshōmaru's eyes widened in shock.
Before him, the divine sword—an artifact said to rival Tessaiga itself—shuddered faintly. Thin cracks spread across its gleaming blade, branching like spiderwebs…
Then, with a soft snap, it broke cleanly in two.
"This…?"
Sesshōmaru's eyes widened as he watched Satsuki so casually break a priceless sword before his eyes. Even though the blade had nothing to do with him, an inexplicable sense of sorrow welled up within his chest.
Satsuki looked down at the broken Sword of Samsara and said calmly, "Perhaps it's too early to tell you this, but everything in existence has a limit—and so do you. You will gain great strength, but in doing so, you will also encounter stronger opponents and enemies."
"And even if one day you reach great heights and fully master the power within you, it will only be temporary. If you cannot continue to surpass your limits, then you will never become a true strong one."
She concluded, "The power of the heart is what allows all beings to transcend the boundaries of their own strength—it is the secret art that leads to true power."
"True power…" Sesshōmaru repeated softly, staring blankly at the broken sword as if gazing at a reflection of his own future. His golden eyes lost focus, deep in thought.
What was the most important thing for one who sought strength?
Satsuki had pondered the same question long ago—in her first world. What does it mean to be truly strong?
She had found her own answer. But it was hers alone—never something she would declare as truth or force others to follow.
For every being was born different, each with their own path, their own nature, their own answer. Only by walking that path themselves could they discover it.
Sesshōmaru, however, had not yet found his own.
He still walked in his father's shadow, imitating the Great Dog General's every step.
If he continued along that path, Satsuki's Tenseigan could already see his destination—he would become merely another, slightly stronger version of the Great Dog General.
If his goal was only to be known as the Strongest Daiyōkai of the West, such a path was not wrong.
But if he sought to become a true strong one, he had to define his own road—he had to understand what he truly desired in his heart.
And to define one's own path—one required the power of the heart.
Satsuki's words left Sesshōmaru in quiet reflection.
He rose without a word, stepping outside until he stood beneath a cherry tree. Closing his eyes, he stood still beneath the gentle rain of falling blossoms.
Watching him, Ruri whispered softly, "Lady Satsuki… do you think Sesshōmaru truly has the potential to surpass his limits?"
"It will be difficult," Satsuki replied calmly. "But not impossible. It depends on his wisdom—and his fate."
As she spoke, her slender fingers brushed across the fractured blade of the Sword of Samsara. In the blink of an eye, the cracks sealed, the blade whole once more before dissolving into pure light.
"Right now, all his power comes from his bloodline and his identity as a yokai," she said. "It's like my current vessel—the Ōtsutsuki body. In the beginning, its inherited bloodline grants immense self-preserving power. There's nothing wrong with that—but such dependence breeds a subconscious limitation: the belief that this is the extent of my power."
Ruri tilted her head slightly, listening intently.
Satsuki continued, "It's not an entirely false belief. Objectively, those who've reached the Sage level, who wield Truth-Seeking Orbs, are indeed at the pinnacle of power within the shinobi world. Compared to them, Sesshōmaru's dog clan still falls short of the Ōtsutsuki's dominion. Yet, even he shows signs of falling into the same mindset. And to make a race—or an entire world—break free from such a ceiling of thought… how would one do that?"
At her words, countless symbols and scripts flickered through Ruri's eyes as she accessed the Akasha Records, searching for parallels to what Satsuki described.
Then—she found it.
When she opened her eyes again, her expression was filled with understanding and awe.
"An enemy," Ruri said quietly. "Create an enemy powerful enough to make everyone feel threatened—to force them, to pressure them, to drive evolution. Just as the humans of this world, under the oppression of yokai, were forced to transcend their limits—giving birth to shrine maidens and monks. With sufficient external pressure, other beings too can awaken and surpass their boundaries."
"After all, the concept of the heart is subjective and intangible. Not everyone can grasp it. To truly perceive the nature of things—the aspect of existence—is already a near-impossible task for most beings."
As she spoke, Satsuki gestured toward her golden Tenseigan eyes. "Even for me, if not for the constant presence of the Ōtsutsuki main family as my enemy, I would likely have been content to stop at attaining the Sage level."
It was precisely because she knew of the main family's existence—and understood their overwhelming might—that Satsuki never ceased pushing herself further. Even after awakening the Tenseigan and reaching the realm of the Six Paths, she refused to stop.
She could no longer recall exactly what emotions had filled her heart when she first learned that her true enemies were the Ōtsutsuki main family.
The same bloodline. Greater resources. Hundreds of times her lifespan and growth. How could she possibly stand against such an enemy?
She had faced an advanced civilization capable of planetary colonization. Against such a force, the conflicts of the shinobi world were utterly insignificant.
And so, under the shadow of that ever-looming Damoclean sword, she drove herself relentlessly, squeezing every ounce of her potential, her intellect, and her strength in the search for another path.
It was that ceaseless self-pressure, combined with a series of coincidences and opportunities, that forged Satsuki into what she had become—a being whose power far surpassed anything the shinobi world could ever conceive.
From her earliest developments in wireless chakra transmission and control, to the mastery of the Eight Gates, to the awakening of the Tenseigan, the Aragami Form, Veil of Light and Shadow, Three Divine Kings' Sacred Wheel, Dead Line Boundary, Mahākāla's World-Annihilating Holy Wheel, and even the Black Domain Buddhakṣetra—each was proof of her refusal to be satisfied with her current power.
"To create an enemy for all beings… to accelerate the evolution of the entire world?" Ruri murmured softly. Then her eyes widened as sudden comprehension dawned within her spiritual sea.
For a moment, pure realization flashed through her mind.
And then, awe.
"My lady… you've been preparing for this all along, haven't you?"
Satsuki did not answer immediately. Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea, the faint aroma drifting between them. After a quiet sip, she replied in an almost casual tone, her voice echoing like a whisper through Ruri's mind:
"Otherwise, what do you think compelled the Three Kings to so openly establish the Lunar Palace in this world?"