The canopy above was so thick it seemed to swallow the stars, leaving Yorimitsu in a world of oppressive, damp shadows. He moved through the underbrush, each step was a silent calculation, his weight shifting onto the balls of his feet to avoid the snap of a dry twig or the rustle of a dead leaf.
He reached the mouth of the Moon-Pale Cave. The entrance was draped in thick, weeping vines and white lichen that looked like the hair of a drowned ghost.
Yorimitsu knelt, pressing two fingers to the earth.
"Spirit of the earth, lend me your sight."
A pulse of blue energy radiated from his fingertips, travelling through the stone and the air like a sonar signal. In his mind's eye, the cave was mapped in shades of cold blue. Deep within the mountain's limestone belly, a massive, coiled heat signature pulsed.
It was Hakamadare, the White Horned Serpent.
Through his spiritual sight, he saw its scales iridescent and thick as armour plating. On its brow sat a single, jagged horn of calcified Reiryoku, and its eyes were twin pools of toxic gold. It breathed slowly, exhaling a faint, paralysing mist that kept the cave floor littered with the bones of lesser beasts and humans.
Hakamadare is rank five. Can I kill him with my current strength?
It's close to moulting, which means that this is its weakest point.t I might have a chance since the power is greatly decreased, but it will be risky.
Without a sound, he withdrew. he glided backwards until the cave was a distant smudge in the dark.
"Since I can't fight it head-on, I will need to set up some traps."
He spent the next hour hunting with terrifying efficiency. He didn't use his blade; he used the wind. Small, focused needles of air pressure struck three mountain hares, killing them instantly without shedding a drop of blood. He needed the scent of life to be fresh.
Drawing inspiration from the ancient scrolls of the Kuzunoha, he began to transform the clearing into a killing floor.
He dug five shallow pits in a pentagram formation, the Go-gyō Array. In each pit, he placed a hare's carcass, but not before carving a binding seal into its flesh. He then pulled out his yellow talismans, pinning them to the surrounding cedar trees.
Using his own blood mixed with the moth scales, he drew lines of connection between the trees, creating a Five-Element Seal. According to historical accounts of the Great Serpent hunts, the White Snake's greatest strength was its ability to slip through the gaps of reality, its greatest power being illusion sorcery.
He buried his rusted blade in the centre of the array, hilt-up. He wrapped the hilt in a Thunder-Clap Sutra, the paper humming as it tasted the damp air.
"The earth to bind," he whispered, his voice a low drone. "The wood to cage. The blood to lure."
He took a final step back, his small hands covered in dirt and ink. He had transformed the natural grove into a complex, metaphysical trap. All that was left was to draw the beast from its lair.
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small bell, its surface etched with the name of Yama. He didn't ring it yet. He stood in the centre of his trap, waiting for the wind to shift toward the cave.
The wind shifted. A cold, wet draft began to pull from the clearing toward the mouth of the Moon-Pale Cave, carrying with it the iron-rich scent of the fresh hare carcasses and the sharp, metallic tang of Yorimitsu's blood.
Deep in the mountain's belly, the massive heat signature stirred.
Yorimitsu felt it through the soles of his feet, a low, grinding vibration as tons of heavy muscle uncoiled against the limestone floor. Hakamadare was awake.
Hiss...
The sound wasn't a noise, but a pressure in the air. A thick, milky mist began to pour from the cave entrance, creeping along the forest floor like a living thing. This was the "Ghost-Fog" of the White Snake, the source of its legendary illusions.
"It really is effective. I look like the trees have become people, trying to strangle me."
Yorimitsu simply bit his tongue, the sharp tang of pain anchoring his mind to reality. He raised the small bell etched with Yama's name.
Cling.
The silver note was tiny, but it cut through the heavy mist like a hot needle through silk, a frequency tuned to the vibration of striking the snake.
In the darkness of the cave mouth, two twin pools of toxic gold ignited. The Horned White Snake emerged. It was beautiful and horrific, its body as thick as a temple pillar, covered in milky, translucent scales that were already peeling away in jagged ribbons. The single horn on its brow pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic light.
It saw the hares. It smelled the blood. But most of all, it felt the insult of the bell.
The serpent didn't slither; it flowed. It moved with an ethereal, disjointed grace, flickering in and out of sight as if it were a phantom in the forest. One moment, it was fifty paces away; the next, it was looming over the first pit of the Go-gyō Array.
"Now," Yorimitsu whispered.
As the snake's weight pressed into the centre of the pentagram, Yorimitsu slammed his palms together.
"Five-Element Seal: Lock!"
The yellow talismans on the cedar trees erupted into brilliant blue flame. The lines of blood and moth-scales etched into the earth turned into glowing chains of light that lashed upward, wrapping around the serpent's massive midsection.
The ground beneath it turned from soft dirt into a spiritual vice, anchoring its tail to the earth. The White Snake let out a silent, bone-shaking scream, its horn flashing violently as it tried to shift into the spirit realm to escape.
The beast lunged forward in a frenzy, its fangs dripping with paralytic venom, its golden eyes fixed on the small boy standing by the hilt of the buried sword.
Yorimitsu didn't flinch. He reached down and gripped the hilt of the rusted blade wrapped in the Thunder-Clap Sutra.
"Ripple!"
"You're a long way from the heavens, Great One," he said, his voice dropping into a deadly, low register.
CRACK!