The flames were still burning, the toad's corpse crackling in the fire, its fat bursting and black smoke rising.
But the villagers no longer cared about that.
They surrounded Kanbe Hikaru and Kikyo, chattering and expressing their gratitude.
Some knelt on the ground and kowtowed.
Some held their children and wept.
Others rushed into their homes, dug out cured meat that had been hidden for who knows how many years, and insisted on giving it to these two 'benefactors'.
It was as lively as the New Year.
Kanbe Hikaru stood still, letting the villagers circle around him.
He didn't speak, just watched a figure in the crowd.
It was the hunched village chief.
The old man stood at the edge of the crowd, not a trace of joy on his face.
His eyes were cloudy, staring at the still-burning flames, his lips trembling slightly, as if he wanted to say something, yet as if he couldn't say anything at all.
Kanbe Hikaru understood that expression.
Fear.
The fear of impending disaster.
"Village Chief!"
A young man ran over, his face flushed: "The God... no, that demon pretending to be a God has been killed! We are free!"
"...Yes."
The old man nodded, his voice dry, as if squeezed from his throat.
"We are free."
He turned around, his hunched figure appearing exceptionally old in the firelight.
"I'll go... prepare some food for our benefactors."
He left.
Step by step, walking very slowly.
Kanbe Hikaru watched that back, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
Kikyo walked to his side, her voice very low:
"It seems he really knew."
He knew the truth that this so-called God was a demon in disguise from the very beginning.
"Hmm."
Kanbe Hikaru replied: "He knows better than anyone what will happen next."
Killing the 'God' was satisfying.
But what happens after the 'God' dies?
Those offerings that were supposed to be given to the 'God' won't just disappear into thin air.
Someone will come to collect them.
And they will collect even more ruthlessly.
...
Half an hour later.
In the village chief's courtyard, a broken wooden table was set up.
On the table was the best thing this village could offer—half a wild rabbit, a dish of pickles, and a small pot of cloudy rice wine.
It looked pitiful.
But Kanbe Hikaru knew that this was likely these people's rations for several months.
"Two benefactors, please."
The village chief bowed and handed over the chopsticks.
Kanbe Hikaru didn't take them.
Because he noticed—
Sitting at the table was a person.
No.
Not a person.
It was a fellow who looked like a young man.
His golden hair was combed back, glistening under the torchlight.
The hair was even floating, like an open sickle, gently drifting in the night breeze.
A striped kimono, collar open, revealing a sturdy chest, with a pipe in his mouth, puffing away.
In front of him sat the largest piece of meat from the meal.
It had already been half eaten.
"Yo."
The guy looked up and grinned at Kanbe Hikaru: "You're here. That strike just now was beautiful."
Kanbe Hikaru's hand pressed onto his hilt.
He could feel Demonic Qi.
Rich, arrogant, but not mixed with the stench of rot like that toad.
This is...
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