Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
In Eastern Japan, the capital city of Heian-kyo bustled with activity. Many young girls dressed in kimono held Oiled Paper Umbrellas, praying beneath the cherry blossom trees. They wished to find their destined partners in this lifetime. The sentiments of youth are always poetic.
At that moment, a figure clad in a black robe stood beneath the cherry blossom tree, his neck adorned with intricate symbols. "Kami-sama," he murmured, "if you can hear my voice, please listen to my prayer. Let me encounter my true love in this life, won't you? Please, please!"
A girl, her expression reverent, hung a stack of origami cranes on the branches of the cherry blossom tree. She believed that Kami-sama would surely hear her prayers. With that thought, a smile crept onto her cherubic face.
As she turned her head, she caught sight of Zuo Ci. "Kami-sama, you really have heard my prayer!" she exclaimed, captivated by the handsome man before her. His striking features were somewhat intimidating; did he wear colored contact lenses?
Zuo Ci stood quietly under the cherry blossom tree, petals cascading onto his shoulders and hair. Despite the eerie quality of his gaze, his appearance was undeniably striking—his black-brown skin glowed against the delicate blossoms, and his sharp brows framed eyes that held an unsettling depth.
The cherry blossoms were indeed romantic, yet their bloom was fleeting—a momentary beauty. Historically, they had been known as the flowers of death. Legends spoke of warriors who chose to end their lives beneath their beloved cherry trees, their blood staining the petals red and marking the presence of souls beneath.
In Zuo Ci's eyes, each petal of this brilliant cherry blossom tree housed a lingering spirit.
It was not the souls of the Easterners. It resembled the lingering spirits of the Huaxia people. Their faces were twisted, filled with resentment and sorrow, and tears that flowed like blood from their hollow eyes. At the roots of the cherry blossom tree was a certain barrier, continuously drawing away these spirits' grievances and directing them toward a specific point nearby.
Zuo Ci glanced to the side at a towering shrine. Was that the Yasukuni Shrine? The place of the A Jie Drum and Eastern Heroic Spirits! How intriguing!
Zuo Ci revealed a look of interest. This was a one-way formation designed to extract the souls' grudges to strengthen the dark spirits, later to be worshipped with incense. Was there an intention to cultivate them into Shikigami? Heroic Spirits were those who had died in battle. They were inherently stronger than ordinary souls, receiving offerings of incense and absorbing the energy of grudges. They could even reach the realm of Return to Life.
Zuo Ci smiled slightly; the stronger they became, the more they belonged to him!
“Where do you come from?”
A figure clad in a long red robe approached, wearing Geta, his footsteps echoing as he walked. His eyes were filled with uncertainty as he looked at Zuo Ci. To him, this youth seemed like an apparition that had appeared out of nowhere. Could it be cultivation?
Zuo Ci regarded the Old Onmyoji with a smile. As the Old Onmyoji drew closer, his sense of danger intensified. He subtly flipped his wrist, pinching a Fulu between his fingers, watching Zuo Ci warily. “Who are you?”
Zuo Ci flicked his finger, and an invisible hand formed from black Yin Qi crushed the old man effortlessly.
From the perspective of others, the old body exploded for no apparent reason.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!
Tourists scattered in panic; there was terror in the air.
"Sir, please escape with me!" The girl looked at Zuo Ci, her expression anxious.
"No!"
Zuo Ci shook his head. He pointed towards Yasukuni Shrine and smiled, "My things are over there!"
Comment 0 Comment Count