One of the Three Sacred Treasures—the Kusanagi Sword.
As one of the ancient divine artifacts passed down since antiquity, the moment the blade left its sheath, a streak of silver light flashed through space itself, instantly tearing apart the crimson sandstorm raging ahead.
The Kusanagi Sword possessed a will of its own and could protect its master autonomously. In the legends surrounding its origin, it was said to cut through withered grass and cleave open curtains of flame.
The terrifying crimson sandstorm, which moments earlier had looked unstoppable, was split apart in an instant the moment the Kusanagi Sword flew out.
Freed from Haibōzu's control, the high-temperature charcoal fragments—now torn cleanly in two—scalded and burned numerous nearby yokai into charred, barbecue-like remains.
"You—you're the master of that divine artifact?!"
The screams of his underlings didn't stir even the slightest sympathy from Haibōzu. But as he watched the Kusanagi Sword circle once in the air before flying obediently back to Ren Kuroda's left hand, sheer panic flooded his expression.
That's right—at their level, A-rank great yokai normally wouldn't even bother acknowledging exorcists of the same rank. After all, yokai possessed bodies and vitality far superior to humans.
An A-rank yokai, even when facing an exorcist with equal A-rank spiritual power—or even an A+-rank one—might not win, but the exorcist wouldn't be able to do much to them either.
However…
The person standing before him now was an exception among exceptions.
The master of the Kusanagi Sword—who in the Tokyo sector didn't know this man's name?
This was the lunatic who had gone head-to-head with a severely injured Hyakki Yagyō and lived!
And Haibōzu could clearly feel it—the moment Ren Kuroda drew the Kusanagi Sword, his spiritual power began to surge wildly under the artifact's amplification.
In the blink of an eye, it broke through the A-rank threshold, climbing straight into the S-rank-minus realm before finally stabilizing.
In truth, as one of humanity's strongest divine artifacts, the Kusanagi Sword should have provided an even greater boost.
But during the previous battle with Hyakki Yagyō, most of the divine power accumulated within the blade over countless years had already been consumed. If it hadn't acknowledged Ren as its master, it would likely have become little more than an ordinary sword by now.
This was its limit.
With Divine Grace in his right hand and the Kusanagi Sword in his left, Ren Kuroda all but entered a one-man annihilation mode. At A-rank spiritual power, he couldn't carve through a sea of C-rank-and-above yokai with reckless abandon.
But at S-rank?
That was a different story entirely.
By the time Ren reached Monk Hakuba's side, with Haibōzu standing as the only remaining obstacle, the great yokai suddenly made a move Ren hadn't expected at all.
The massive cloud of gray smoke that had been charging toward him—seemingly with overwhelming momentum—began to collapse on itself the moment Ren raised the Kusanagi Sword.
Then it scattered.
Haibōzu disintegrated into countless wisps of smoke and fled in all directions.
Ren froze.
For a moment, judging by Haibōzu's earlier demeanor, Ren had thought the yokai was about to stake everything on one final stand.
Turns out… he was just a coward.
If Ren chose to pursue him now, finishing Haibōzu wouldn't have been particularly difficult.
But seeing Monk Hakuba covered in yokai, on the verge of being devoured alive, Ren made his decision in an instant.
With a flash, he appeared beside the monk and cut down all the surrounding yokai in just a few swift strikes.
"My apologies, Brother Ren," Monk Hakuba said with a bitter smile. "To think you'd have to rush in without regard for the consequences just to save me. I never imagined I'd live to see the day I'd need rescuing."
Hakuba's robes were already in tatters from the brutal fighting, leaving him with none of the dignity of an enlightened monk. At a glance, he looked more like a ragpicker than a revered master.
"You're too kind, Master," Ren replied. "We're companions—watching each other's backs is only natural. Besides, holding out that long against that many yokai, including several with demonic power on par with yours… that alone is worthy of respect."
On the other side of the battlefield, Shokuhatsuki and Yamato Kyoka were locked in an even struggle.
Kyoka's Onikiri, sharp enough to cut through nearly anything, met its match against Shokuhatsuki's hair—it simply wouldn't sever no matter how she struck.
Fortunately, Kyoka had already awakened the Mind's Eye skill. After prolonged combat, she finally pinpointed a weakness in the flow of demonic power within Shokuhatsuki's hair and gradually began to shift from defense to offense.
Just as their fight reached a stalemate, both Kyoka and Shokuhatsuki felt it—
The aura of a divine artifact.
Moments later, Haibōzu's figure appeared overhead, ordering Shokuhatsuki and the others to retreat. The enemy's strength, he warned, had exceeded their expectations.
"Next time we meet," Shokuhatsuki snarled as he withdrew, "I'll take that beautiful head of hair for myself!"
The sudden emergence of a divine artifact's presence—combined with Haibōzu's shaken state—made it clear something had gone terribly wrong. Under command, the yokai retreated in an orderly fashion toward the mountainside.
Though it was a retreat, it was an unhurried one. Some yokai even made sure to grab unfinished chunks of flesh from the ground before leaving.
Kyoka had wanted to give chase—but she stopped short when she saw Kamishiro Isshin and Kujō Hinano collapsed on the snow, their spiritual power completely depleted, barely able to move.
And nearby, Monk Hakuba—his spiritual power exhausted, his body covered in wounds.
On the vast white snowfield, amid bloodstains and horrifying scars left by battle, only a handful of people were still breathing.
Dozens of human combatants—each at least C+-rank—had been utterly insignificant before such a massive yokai horde. Not even bodies remained.
The number of yokai actually slain was pitifully small, and most of them had been cut down by Ren Kuroda and Yamato Kyoka alone.
As for Kamishiro Isshin and Monk Hakuba—despite their strength, surviving at all under those conditions had already pushed them to their limits.
If Ren hadn't drawn the Kusanagi Sword—if the surrounding yokai hadn't sensed the divine artifact's aura, combined with Ren's fearsome reputation from previous battles—Shokuhatsuki and the others would never have withdrawn so easily.
Had the battle dragged on even a little longer, without Ren resorting to his yokai power, Monk Hakuba and Kamishiro Isshin would have fallen one after another.
Kyoka might still have been able to fight—but once her spiritual power ran dry, the outcome would have been obvious.
After the yokai retreated, Ren and the others took a brief rest. Before long, new teams arrived.
Leading them were none other than Yamato Kyoka's father, the head of the Yamato family, along with members of the Kūsū clan.
There was no way those stationed on the mountain hadn't sensed the earlier commotion—but everyone had chosen to observe from afar.
No one knew whether this was a trap laid by Hyakki Yagyō. For the sake of their clans' safety, they all chose caution.
The Yamato family head and the Kūsū clan had initially shared the same stance. Everyone had come for Spirit Power Crystals—whatever happened here, they had already prepared themselves mentally.
They weren't saints. They wouldn't gamble their clans' lives to save others.
But the moment the aura of a divine artifact erupted from the mountain, they could no longer remain seated.
In the entire Tokyo sector, there was only one person capable of wielding a divine artifact—and present here.
Ren Kuroda.
And Ren had been acting together with Yamato Kyoka.
Which meant—
The people trapped amid that overwhelming demonic presence included his daughter.
Realizing this, the Yamato family head and Kūsū Ryōsuke sprang into action at once, organizing their clans and rushing toward Ren's location without delay.
Though he hated to admit it, the Yamato family head couldn't deny what his wife, Yamato Miku, had once said—
Ren Kuroda truly was the standout among his generation.
And if even he had been forced to draw on the power of a divine artifact, then the yokai on this mountain had to be monstrously strong—strong enough to push them to the brink of annihilation.
They traveled at top speed the entire way, terrified that they might arrive too late.
Yamato Kyoka was the sole legitimate heir of the Yamato family. Even if her cultivation path had deviated completely from the family's traditional style, her talent was undeniable.
As for Kūsū Ryōsuke—this extraordinarily gifted niece was also the only daughter of his beloved elder sister. Of course he was frantic.
Impatient with their group's pace, the Yamato family head and Ryōsuke abandoned the others and rushed ahead using spiritual power.
When they arrived—
The battle was already over.
From the bloodstains and the terrifying marks left across the snow, it wasn't hard to imagine how brutal the fighting had been.
Just as the two men were anxiously searching for Kyoka and the others, Kujō Hinano—who had been keeping watch—hurriedly called out to stop them from pressing further up the mountain.
"Head Yamato, Head Kūsū—there's a massive number of yokai lying in ambush at the mountainside. Going up right now would be extremely dangerous."
"If you're looking for Miss Kyoka… she's here with me. She's not in any immediate danger."
Seeing Kujō Hinano, both men let out a deep sigh of relief. They knew this girl as well—one of the members of that Countermeasures Group.
"Father," Kyoka said urgently once they regrouped inside a mountain cave. "You came at just the right time. Master Hakuba's injuries are severe. My healing techniques aren't good enough—please, help treat him."
The Yamato family head finally saw his daughter safe and sound. He was just about to scold her—
When she grabbed him and dragged him straight toward the badly wounded monk.