Login with GoogleChapter 35: The Most Cruel Curse in the World
"We are currently at a loss with no feasible solution."
A frigid conclusion was thrown into the silent room.
"With no feasible solution?"
The middle-aged man, strong and powerful, clenched his fist, "Translate this for me, what does 'with no feasible solution' mean?"
He slammed the table in anger, exclaiming furiously, "Thirteen special forces are trapped inside, and I demand that you provide me with a solution, rather than uttering these four meaningless words!"
However, the analyst facing the senior officials of the Police Department merely repeated it expressionlessly.
"I deeply regret it."
"However, when it comes to this crimson mist, we truly lack a better course of action."
"What we need to do now is not just to rescue the trapped individuals, but rather to contemplate how to prevent the further escalation of its calamitous effect."
Bang! The enraged middle-aged police officer kicked over the stool, barely able to contain the surging anger within.
However, he was intercepted. Intercepting him was an elderly person standing beside him, adorned in a humble kimono, with gray hair that didn't reveal signs of aging.
With a mere gesture, the robust middle-aged man was halted, "Officer Fuji, please compose yourself,".
"How can you expect me to remain calm!"
"Young man… don't forget, a few members of the Onmyoryou are also in there," the old man's voice resonated with solemnity.
Fuji tightened his fist momentarily, then released it, casting a deep glance at the venerable old man of profound authority. "I have overstepped my bounds, Your Excellency Tsuchimikado," he respectfully acknowledged.
"It's all right, I also find it suspicious," the old man said. "However, this crimson fog is peculiar. It penetrates even the Onmyoryou's formations, rapidly corroding them. It might be a highly concentrated form of Filthy Blood."
"So we must hurry to save them!" Fuji hastily spoke up. Over a dozen elite special police officers were specially selected for this operation, and to lose them like this was truly heartbreaking. Their deaths were shrouded in mystery, leaving no room for explanation or justification.
"What is the Shogunate's stance on this matter?" Tsuchimikado glanced at the intelligence officer, asking, "Are they still demanding that we maintain our current stance and refrain from taking action?"
The intelligence officer responded, "All the contingency plans that were submitted have failed to take effect. The magnitude of this disaster has exceeded expectations, hence…"
"Even if I am willing to personally take the field, it is not possible?"
"I believe in Master Tsuchimikado's abilities, but your physical well-being is invaluable, and no one knows for certain if the enemy's attacks will cease here," the intelligence officer shook their head and said, "Controlling the disaster is our top priority, followed by considering rescue operations. Given the current circumstances, I think…"
"You're suggesting giving up on the rescue mission, aren't you?" Fuji gritted his teeth in frustration.
"I simply don't wish to further deplete our remaining forces. The high concentration of Filthy Blood has the potential to corrode all forms of life. Even if we were to purify continuously for three days with the shrine maiden, it is uncertain whether we could reduce its concentration to a safe threshold." The intelligence officer acted as a mere mouthpiece, relaying each sentence, saying, "Unless you can provide a viable solution, as a representative of the Shogunate's authority, I will have to enforce a 'damage control' strategy."
The composed intelligence officer explained their reasoning, devoid of any hint of emotion, displaying only pure rationality.
Just like a doctor facing a necrotic lesion, choosing to excise it is the only option, even if it means shedding some extra blood.
As for who is bleeding, he doesn't care, and neither does the Shogunate.
There is no logic in expecting a bloodless confrontation against the followers of the evil gods.
The only thing they could do was wait, and offer a white funeral flower for the impending demise of these individuals.
Even such matters have become tiresome.
The analyst gazed unemotionally at the leader of the Onmyoryou and the head of the Metropolitan Police Department.
The decision of implementing a simple stop-loss strategy is unquestionable; the ones unable to accept this loss are the Metropolitan Police Department and the Onmyoryou.
Onmyoryou, as an esteemed guest of the noble family, has held this position for a long time. Following strict family inheritance rules, it has almost evolved into a caste system. Many talented children are selected and sent to prestigious Onmyo households for training from the age of five. Eventually, they undergo a name change and become adopted sons in order to qualify as Onmyoji.
Onmyo arts have essentially become a monopolized family tradition.
The twelve clans, led by Tsuchimikado, hold dominion over the Onmyoryou, binding their interests tightly together through generations of intermarriage, forming a steadfast and immovable privileged class that has endured for centuries.
Until this generation, the shogun wielded authority as the supreme heroic spirits, intending to break through the monopolistic power of the noble families. They planned to establish private Onmyo schools and restructure the Onmyoryou, which directly impacted the fundamental interests of these Onmyoji. It was only when Tsuchimikado and his fellow Onmyoji were forced to step forward in order to assert their presence. They strived to demonstrate that the Onmyoryou could protect the peace in their own way, utilizing various means to carry out reputation-building projects and achieve political success.
It is not a bad thing for the police of the Metropolitan Police Department to care for their subordinates. Unfortunately, being a civilian who was assigned to this escort mission, it is likely that he is originally from a prominent family. The Special Forces, who have long been accustomed to frontline confrontations with followers of evil deities, must have been prepared for such losses and felt sorrow for the loss of personnel. For this person, who was not mentally prepared, it was simply an opportunity to boost his political achievements.
In contrast to these two individuals, the person in charge of the "shrine" remained silent and seated.
The sword witches and shrine priests under the shrine, it is unknown how many of them have fallen in battle.
What a stark contrast in perspectives.
The analyst skillfully concealed his inner disdain and began to speak, saying, "Since the two of you are unable to find a solution, then…"
"Wait a moment."
The silent person in charge of the shrine suddenly spoke up.
A woman dressed in a pitch-black mourning attire, her face concealed by a black veil, furrowed her brow and rose from her seat in astonishment.
"What is that?"
In the area shrouded by a red mist, a faint cherry blossom hue is gradually being revealed.
…
Saki Jingūji had a dream.
A dream that was both incredibly prolonged and momentary.
She dreamt of transforming into a beautiful and adorable little fox, embarking on a journey alongside an unkempt young man.
A heartfelt journey, a challenging journey, a journey shared in hardship, an intriguing journey, a journey of despair.
Until the moment of its culmination, she never anticipated that it would lead to such an outcome.
Unbeknownst to her, she had already opened her eyes.
Saki Jingūji knelt on the ground, her eyes becoming crimson, the suffocating pain pale in comparison to the ache in her chest at that moment.
She lowered her countenance, gazing upon her own hands. Despite the close proximity, they appeared inexplicably blurry.
She parted her lips, breathing laboriously.
"That wasn't me…"
She quietly reassured herself, yearning to awaken from this illusionary dream.
"That was not a part of my own experiences, merely influenced by a faint echo from the past…"
She repeated these words persistently, consoling herself, and forcefully wiped the corners of her eyes. Just as she was about to rise, however, she stumbled for a moment.
Despite the simplicity of the movement, she almost stumbled to the ground, and at that moment, a mocking laughter reached her ears.
"Clumsy and awkward…"
"You, on the other hand…"
"Truly a foolish fox, indeed."
The familiar voice was within arm's reach, as if the familiar youth was right in front of her. She even caught sight of his outstretched hand and instinctively longed to grasp it.
However, she failed to grasp anything at all.
In the palm of her hand, there was nothing but emptiness.
Her pupils contracted sharply as she stared at her empty hands, gazing at the vanished figure. Her expression turned mournful and desperate, as her attempts at self-comfort and self-encouragement crumbled within the tumultuous wave of emotions.
The piercing pain, like a needle, pierced through the heart, and the uncontrollable agony transformed into tears that welled up in the eyes.
Just like that helpless immortal fox from before, she covered her face, sorrowfully weeping and mourning.
The grieving girl failed to notice that behind her, the phantom of the immortal fox materialized.
The exquisite fox fur coat, graceful figure, though fleeting, was indescribably beautiful.
A millennium-old immortal fox, radiating incomparable beauty.
Perhaps truly lived for a thousand years.
But it is also crying, weeping in sorrow, just like it did when it was young.
Saki Jingūji, in agony, tightly clasped her chest, feeling a needle-like pain that seemed to almost make her cough up blood.
She knew that the immortal fox was not her.
She also knew that she herself was the fox.
That name is a curse, a cruel curse.
No matter how many more years it lives in the future, even if it truly lives to be a thousand years old, it will never be able to escape that desert, nor step out of that boundless journey without an end.
The tears shed by the illusionary fox transformed into fluttering cherry blossom petals, resembling the majestic stature of a thousand-year-old cherry blossom tree. The petals scattered and gently landed on her shoulders, tinting the tips of the girl's hair with a hint of cherry blossom hue.
The breathtaking spectacle of cherry blossoms in full bloom is not merely aesthetically pleasing, as it even disperses the tainted crimson veil, purifying each suspended droplet of blood.
Mystery can only be neutralized beneath an equal level of mystery.
And the mystery that awakens and is summoned by the recollection of past memories, this kind of mystery is commonly referred to as…
Heroic Spirit Principle.
