Chapter 228: The Ample-Bosomed Sengoku Female Daimyo!
No fury twisted Takeda Shingen's features.
Being swatted away with such casual disregard would have sent any other Daimyo into a blind, bloodthirsty rage. Shingen merely tilted her head, her fingers tightening around the grip of her iron fan, its lacquer now spider-webbed with cracks.
"Interesting."
A grin stretched across her face. Her white teeth flashed in the dim light, and the crimson gleam in her eyes burned hotter than before.
"As expected, you are exactly as strong as the rumors claim—no, much stronger. You are entirely worthy of being the man who crushed Uesugi Kenshin and forced her to pass the torch."
As an avatar of a divine Buddha, she retained the memories of the Uesugi Clan's generational shift—a truth completely erased from the minds of ordinary mortals.
Shingen patted the coarse gravel dust from her kimono and pushed herself up from the base of the towering Buddha statue. Her tall, imposing figure cast a long shadow across the stone steps. As she straightened, the loose neckline of her garment shifted dangerously. The heavy, ample curves of her chest threatened to spill entirely from the collar. Rather than modestly pulling the fabric up, she simply tugged it to the side, adjusting the silk so it wouldn't chafe against her skin.
Nearby, Yamagata Masakage scrambled up from the dirt. The Hime-musha kept her blade drawn, though the golden aura coating the steel had dimmed to a weak flicker.
"My Lord—"
"I'm fine," Shingen interrupted. She rolled her right shoulder, working out the lingering numbness from the impact, and spun her cracked iron fan twice in her palm.
She opened her mouth, the thrill of battle heavy on her tongue. "Again—"
The challenge died in her throat.
Kobe Hikaru abruptly halted his advance. In the next fraction of a second, his figure violently reversed course. His gray robes blurred into a streak of ash darting through the narrow gaps between the stone Buddhas. Pale hair whipped around the corner of the steps, and he vanished from sight.
It was an explosive, high-speed retreat.
Shingen froze mid-breath. Her posture remained locked in the preparation for a charge—left foot planted forward, right foot braced back, her iron fan raised high. She looked like a war painting abruptly paused in time.
"...Huh?"
Her jaw went slack. Masakage mirrored her lord's bewilderment, while the two remaining Hime-mushas, who were just now dragging themselves off the ground, stared blankly at the empty space.
Running away right in the middle of a clash? He hadn't even finished the fight, and he was just gone?
Shingen blinked her deep red eyes. The wild, excited curve of her lips melted into deep confusion, which rapidly curdled into intense annoyance.
She drew a breath to shout after him—
The air directly above the stone platform detonated.
It was not merely a sound. It was a concussive shockwave born from an unfathomably massive concentration of raw power. A deafening, feral roar—the bellow of a monstrous lion—erupted from an invisible point right behind her back. The resulting gale scoured the platform, blasting away layers of gravel and dust. Even the massive, three-zhang-tall stone Buddhas groaned, wobbling precariously on their ancient pedestals.
Masakage was thrown back three heavy steps, her boots skidding across the stone until she violently drove her blade into the ground to anchor herself.
Shingen herself was shoved half a step forward by the sheer force. She whipped her head around, her crimson hair flailing.
There was nothing behind her.
Only scattered gravel, silent Buddha statues, and the gray-white petrified earth. Yet the epicenter of that terrifying impact felt so close it was as if the beast had just clawed its way out of her own spine.
"What is that—?" Shingen's voice cracked, losing its usual commanding edge.
The air distorted, shifting with violent movement, but her eyes registered nothing. Humans could not perceive Guardian Spirits. Even the hosts themselves remained blind to the phantom entities bound to their souls, lacking the specialized perception required to pierce the veil.
Hikaru, however, saw it with absolute clarity.
Standing on a stone step a hundred paces away, his Crimson Demon Eyes burned with a dark, swirling light, reflecting the chaotic scene unfolding on the platform. The Black Pearl Agate's truth-seeking talent operated at maximum capacity, stripping away the invisible layers of the world.
Looming directly behind Shingen was her Guardian Spirit: the Vajra Lion.
Its massive, spectral body was forged of pure, radiant gold. Its mane exploded outward like a roaring inferno, and its four heavy claws tread upon the empty void. Clamped tightly within its massive jaws was a brilliantly glowing golden orb.
It was the divine mount of Fudo Myo-o. In Buddhist Esotericism, the Vajra Lion served as the spirit beast ridden by the Wisdom King, an absolute symbol of fearlessness and the subjugation of demons. Shingen had always claimed to be the living reincarnation of Fudo Myo-o, and her Guardian Spirit aligned perfectly with that legend.
But right now, the divine beast was losing its mind.
The golden spirit body had violently expanded, swelling to more than three times the size Hikaru had observed just moments prior. Its fiery mane stood rigidly on end. Its massive claws thrashed wildly against the empty air, resembling a starved predator that had been locked in a dark cage for centuries and had just caught the scent of fresh blood.
Its semi-transparent, golden eyes were rolled upward, locked entirely on the towering summit of Mount Hakurei.
It was staring directly at the 'head' of the mountain—a peak formed by the lingering essence of a massive existence that had attained Buddhahood in the flesh.
The Vajra Lion roared, thrashing and tearing at the invisible tethers binding it to Shingen's soul. It was desperately trying to rip itself free from her body.
Something was pulling it. Summoning it.
Mount Hakurei was feeding.
The pieces clicked together in Hikaru's mind. That flesh-body Buddha—the centuries-old, festering resentment of Master Hakushin—had no interest in devouring the Daimyo themselves. The warlords were nothing but disposable vessels.
What the mountain truly craved were the Guardian Spirits. The pure, condensed spirit bodies forged from the Heavenly Fate of the realm.
Imagawa Yoshimoto had been dragged into this domain because of her Six-Tusked White Elephant. Oda Nobuna was pulled in by her Heavenly Eye Peacock and Hyōbi-shin. Shingen was ensnared because of the Vajra Lion. As for the Hime-mushas, they were simply dragged along as collateral, tethered to the artifacts wielded by the avatars of the divine Buddhas. It was the only logical explanation for why only Yoshimoto had been pulled from the Imagawa camp.
Hikaru narrowed his eyes, his mind working rapidly. Master Hakushin had sacrificed his own life to attain Buddhahood, yet he had ultimately failed to ascend. Centuries of isolation and festering resentment had trapped his soul within the mountain's core, leaving him unable to reach Paradise and barred from the cycle of reincarnation.
He needed more 'destiny' to gorge upon. He needed to consume the Heavenly Fate of the era to fill the void of his own unwillingness. He was trying to force a metamorphosis.
Master Hakushin.
"Do you wish to become a demon?"
Hikaru's jaw tightened. He had no idea what the shadowy existence manipulating Tsuchimikado Koketsu had promised the once-compassionate high monk to convince him to walk the path of demonic corruption. But one thing was absolutely certain: if Master Hakushin successfully absorbed the Guardian Spirits of the strongest Daimyo... he would undergo a terrifying evolution.
As for what the Kyoto forces controlling Koketsu stood to gain from birthing such a monstrosity—that was a problem for later.
Hikaru withdrew his gaze from the summit. The glowing purple patterns within his Demon Eyes slowly receded.
His course of action was clear. If Mount Hakurei consumed the Guardian Spirits, the Daimyo would be stripped of their Heavenly Fate, reduced to ordinary, powerless mortals. All that stolen destiny would flood directly into Master Hakushin.
A flesh-body Buddha drowning in centuries of dark resentment, supercharged by the Heavenly Fate of the era's greatest conquerors... It would no longer be a mere haunted mountain. It would become a living, breathing Buddha of calamity. An entity far more catastrophic than any Great Yokai roaming the lands.
A Demon Buddha. A Heavenly Demon.
The absolute antithesis of enlightenment.
The moment the thought crystallized, Hikaru moved. If Master Hakushin fully awakened and forged an alliance with Koketsu's faction, Hikaru, Kikyo, and everything they had built would be caught in the crossfire. Survival would become a luxury they could no longer afford.
Hesitation was a flaw he did not possess.
His hands crossed over his waist, drawing Onikiri and Yomikiri in perfect, simultaneous unison. He refrained from triggering the full Asura Transformation, but thick, crimson ghostly qi violently erupted from his pores, instantly solidifying into jagged ghost armor. Bone Spikes tore through the plating, and crackling arcs of dark thunder intertwined across his form.
Triple armor. Triple reinforcement.
The mist shrouding Mount Hakurei seemed to thicken, swirling around the towering, silent statues. Though carved in the image of divine Buddhas, the stone figures now seemed to exude a suffocating, demonic aura.
Down on the platform, surrounded by these twisted effigies, the Vajra Lion finally snapped its tethers.
The instant the massive golden spirit tore itself from Shingen's back, the Tiger of Kai violently stumbled forward. It looked as though an invisible hand had reached through her flesh and ripped a vital organ straight from her spine. She crashed heavily onto one knee, slamming her iron fan against the stone to keep her face from hitting the ground. Her long, deep-red hair cascaded downward, obscuring half her face.
"My Lord!" Masakage screamed, abandoning her stance and sprinting to her master's side. The moment her fingers brushed Shingen's shoulder, she flinched. The Daimyo's entire body was wracked with violent, uncontrollable tremors.
The Guardian Spirit had separated. The agonizing sensation of having one's condensed Heavenly Fate violently extracted from the soul was akin to having the Supreme Bone physically ripped from one's chest.
Free from its host, the Vajra Lion—still entirely invisible to ordinary eyes—swelled into a colossal, five-zhang-tall behemoth. Its golden mane burned like a solar flare. Its four massive claws gouged deep, glowing trenches into the very fabric of the void, and the golden orb clamped in its jaws radiated a blinding, searing light.
Throughout its violent expansion, its gaze never wavered from the summit. The gravitational pull radiating from the peak was absolute, a vortex of ancient resentment specifically tuned to drag in spirit bodies forged from destiny.
The Vajra Lion unleashed an devastating roar. Its hind legs shattered the empty space beneath it, launching its massive frame directly toward the peak.
And then, it slammed into a wall of dark steel and blood.
It collided head-on with Hikaru.
Suspended in the path of the beast, fully clad in his triple-reinforced armor, Hikaru held Onikiri in his left hand and Yomikiri in his right. Dark red, blood-soaked blade patterns flared to life alongside a freezing, ghostly purple illumination. The two diametrically opposed energies violently converged in the space before him.
Ultimate Intent.
It was the absolute pinnacle of the swordsmanship he had forged during his thousand-mile slaughter through Kanto, refined through the blood of seventeen dojos, and perfected by witnessing the void-state of Kamiizumi Nobutsuna.
As his Sword Intent reached its absolute zenith, the bloodthirsty soul of Onikiri awakened along the razor edge, weeping dark red blood-fire from the microscopic cracks in the steel. Simultaneously, Yomikiri's radiance surged, channeling the freezing, ghostly qi of the Yellow Springs—converted directly from the earth's Turbid Qi via the Breath of the Demon—into a trailing mist of absolute zero.
The two catastrophic powers compressed, twisted, and fused. Yin and Yang converged into a singular, devastating cross.
Onikiri and Yomikiri slashed outward.
The five-zhang-tall spirit body of the Vajra Lion crashed directly into the intersecting arc of apocalyptic light.
A sound like a mountain of glass shattering echoed across the platform. A massive, jagged fissure was violently torn across the golden beast's chest. Dark red blood-fire instantly latched onto the edges of the wound, burning fiercely, while the freezing purple qi of the Yellow Springs flash-froze the surrounding spirit structure. The two opposing forces ruthlessly eroded the beast's essence, completely paralyzing its ability to heal.
The Mortal Blade suppressed all regeneration. Anything lacking the sheer magnitude to resist its law was condemned to rot.
The Vajra Lion unleashed a shrill, agonizing screech. The sheer force of the soundwaves caused the surrounding stone Buddhas to vibrate violently on their pedestals.
The beast thrashed, desperately trying to force its way past the obstacle to reach the summit. But Hikaru was already moving. Stepping smoothly into the beast's guard, he swept Onikiri in a brutal horizontal arc, cleanly severing the Lion's left front claw.
The moment the massive golden limb detached from the main body, it dissolved into a shower of glittering light and vanished into the mist.
Yomikiri followed a fraction of a second later, carving a vicious upward arc across the beast's exposed abdomen, tearing a second, gaping canyon into the spirit body.
Two slashes. Executed in the space of a single heartbeat.
One-third of the Vajra Lion's majestic form was instantly annihilated. Its roaring, flame-like mane withered into sparse, flickering strands of weak gold, and ominous cracks spider-webbed across the glowing orb clamped in its jaws.
That orb was the absolute core of its Heavenly Fate. If it shattered, the entity would cease to exist.
For the first time, the divine beast felt fear. Guardian Spirits possessed no true consciousness, no complex thoughts—only primal instinct. The urge to hurl itself toward Mount Hakurei was instinct, but the desperate need to flee complete annihilation was a far stronger one.
Abandoning its suicidal charge toward the summit, the Vajra Lion violently altered its trajectory, throwing itself upward toward the sky.
Dragging a trail of shattered golden light-dust behind it, the broken spirit body flailed wildly, resembling a majestic bird with a snapped wing as it flew crookedly toward the heavens.
Hikaru tilted his head back, watching the fading trail of light.
He couldn't pursue it. Within the domain of Mount Hakurei, the oppressive Buddha-power heavily restricted the external release of Yao Qi. His Thunder Muscle could only circulate just beneath his skin, rendering him entirely incapable of taking flight. Even if he unleashed the full six-meter-tall Bone-Thunder Giant Body of his Asura Transformation, a mere physical jump wouldn't bridge the gap to the high clouds.
But he didn't need to chase it.
Those two slashes had done their job. The spiraling fusion of blood-fire and the Breath of the Demon hadn't just inflicted catastrophic physical damage; it had infected the Vajra Lion with his Yao Qi, his blood-fire, and his ghostly qi.
It was a calculated sabotage. As long as that dark blood-fire clung to the spirit's core, it would be nearly impossible for the Vajra Lion to smoothly merge with anything. Even if Master Hakushin attempted to force the absorption, the corrupted energy would create violent, unstable cracks in his foundation.
That was the sole reason Hikaru had drawn his blades and unleashed his Ultimate Intent right out of the gate.
It was a lure. He wanted to see if this sabotage would force Master Hakushin to voluntarily seek him out.
After all, erasing that deeply embedded blood and fire would require a deep level of purification. A flesh-body Buddha who had failed to achieve true enlightenment simply lacked the necessary purity to cleanse it easily. A true Buddha was a being of Nirvana, an existence entirely divorced from the cycle of life and death. A flesh-body Buddha was merely a Bodhisattva trapped in mortal meat—close to the threshold, but forever separated by an impossible line.
Hikaru could clearly sense that Master Hakushin's raw magical capacity equaled, or perhaps even dwarfed, that of a standard Great Yokai. Yet, due to the festering flaws in his state of mind, his actual application of that power was likely far inferior to someone like Kikyo. His energy was vast enough to blanket several provinces, but it was hopelessly impure.
Erasing Hikaru's Yao Qi would be a nightmare for him.
High above, the golden afterimage of the Vajra Lion shrank into a mere speck before finally being swallowed by the dense, gray-white mist blanketing Mount Hakurei.
It had successfully fled.
Hikaru calmly lowered his arms. Onikiri and Yomikiri slid back into their scabbards in perfect synchronization. The two soft, metallic clicks rang out with startling clarity in the dead silence of the petrified forest.
The jagged ghost armor, the protruding bone spikes, and the crackling arcs of thunder melted away from his skin, receding back into his demonic core.
He turned around.
Down on the platform, Shingen remained on one knee. One hand was planted flat against the stone, the other still gripped her cracked iron fan in a white-knuckled hold. Her long, deep-red hair spilled across the ground like a pool of fresh blood.
She was panting heavily, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.
But her eyes—they were startlingly, terrifyingly bright.
Those crimson irises were locked onto Hikaru with an intensity that burned. Her pupils still reflected the lingering afterimages of those two apocalyptic arcs of light, replaying the fluid motion of him sheathing his blades.
"Two slashes," she rasped. Her voice was rough, completely drained of strength, yet utterly devoid of frustration or despair. "To beat away that... that thing that just tore its way out of my spine—no matter what the hell it was—you only needed two slashes."
Masakage kept a tight, anxious grip on Shingen's shoulder, her eyes darting nervously between her lord and the Oni Samurai.
Shingen ignored her subordinate entirely. The crippling exhaustion of losing her Guardian Spirit was already beginning to recede. Her monstrous physical constitution, the very foundation that allowed her to claim the title of Fudo Myo-o's reincarnation, would not easily collapse just because her Heavenly Fate had been temporarily severed.
She was merely drained.
"Kishin Hikaru."
Using her iron fan as a brace, Shingen pushed herself up from the stone. She swayed for a fraction of a second before locking her knees, casually brushing the thick layer of dust from her kimono.
She began walking toward him. Her pace was slow, measured, but her posture was impeccably straight.
"Those two slashes of yours just now—" She raised her iron fan, pointing the cracked tip directly at his chest. "They are the most beautiful strikes I have ever witnessed in my entire life."
A fierce, hungry smile spread across her lips. "Even if I include the previous generation's Uesugi Kenshin, absolutely no one compares to you. It is no wonder you possessed the strength to force her replacement."
Having delivered her praise, she snapped the iron fan shut and tucked it smoothly into her obi sash.
She crossed her arms beneath her chest. The sheer, excessive volume of her bust forced her arms to rest unusually high, the heavy weight shifting noticeably with the movement. Hikaru stared blankly at the display, internally noting that the Tiger of Kai truly possessed an absurd 'capacity to hold others.'
Her deep red eyes bored straight into his.
"Come with me."
Her method of recruitment was infinitely simpler, blunter, and far more brutal than Imagawa Yoshimoto's calculated diplomacy.
"The Takeda Clan needs you. We need you far more than Imagawa ever could." She spoke with absolute, righteous conviction. "That woman, Yoshimoto, is a coward terrified of her own shadow. She relies entirely on others to fight her wars, and since Sessai died, she has been blindly following his posthumous blueprints. The moment those plans run dry, she won't even be able to find her way out of her own castle. The Hojo Clan are narrow-minded fools who can't see past the borders of Kanto, and the Uesugi Clan you already crushed aren't even worth mentioning."
"Only I—"
She slapped a hand against her chest. The forceful impact caused her ample assets to sway violently, a distracting display of sheer physical presence. "Only the Takeda Clan can provide you with a true battlefield."
Her eyes burned with the fires of ambition. "Kai and Shinano—the lands of two entire provinces. Add to that the Mino province I am currently preparing to conquer. Three massive territories linked together, forging a direct path from the Tosando straight into the Kinai region."
She took one final step forward, closing the distance. "Come with me, Hikaru. The path to conquering the entire world will be laid out at your feet."
Hikaru looked at her.
This woman, who hadn't even reached her twentieth birthday, had just been effortlessly swatted away by him. She had just suffered the agonizing, soul-tearing exhaustion of having her Guardian Spirit ripped from her body, leaving her barely able to stand without swaying.
And yet, her first instinct was to aggressively recruit him.
It was a terminal disease shared by all Sengoku Daimyo—the moment they laid eyes on a sufficiently sharp weapon, they became obsessed with claiming it for themselves.
Hikaru let out a quiet, internal sigh.
"Not going," he replied, his tone entirely flat.
Shingen blinked, her grand speech hitting a brick wall.
"No reason," he added preemptively.
Without waiting for her response, he reached down and casually hoisted Banryu—which he had discarded on the ground earlier—resting the massive halberd comfortably over his shoulder. He walked right past the stunned Daimyo, his boots crunching against the stone as he continued his ascent up the mountain path.
Shingen stood frozen in place, turning her head to watch his gray-robed back slowly disappear around the sharp bend of the ancient stone steps.
The crimson fire in her eyes did not dim in the slightest. If anything, it flared into an expression of deep, predatory interest.
"Interesting."
She murmured the word for the second time that day, tasting the syllables.
A moment later, she reached back and slapped Masakage on the shoulder. "Let's go. We're following him."
Masakage stared at her lord in disbelief. "My Lord? But he just flatly refused—"
"So what if he refused?"
Shingen stepped forward, her long strides eating up the distance toward the stone steps. The heavy hem of her kimono dragged through the gravel, gathering thick layers of gray dust, but she didn't care in the slightest.
"This mountain path is incredibly wide," she declared, a feral grin returning to her face. "And I didn't hear anyone say I wasn't allowed to walk on it."
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]