Chapter 663: Tsurugikumo Sword

Redleaf covered her face; the two slap marks and one shoe print on her skin sent searing pain through her, making her entire face burn hot.

This feeling is truly nostalgic.

The last time she had been humiliated like this was a century ago.

Back then, she was merely a weakling driven to desperation by this damned world, forced to climb the Demon Mountain in search of a sliver of hope, yearning for strength, for a stable life, for a day when no one could bully her again.

But sadly, such a luxurious wish was destined for only a handful in this land of Japan, and she was clearly not among them.

Back then, she had been like a drowning woman, desperately grasping at anything that might save her, struggling to survive—but the more she struggled, the faster she sank into despair.

Fortunately, she was ultimately lucky; just before she drowned, someone pulled her up and gave her redemption.

Lord Sakuya had been the only light in her life.

But the weak, meek Redleaf of that time had already drowned; what the lord pulled up was merely a demon born of obsession.

She no longer wanted to live a life where anyone could bully her at will; she was tired of living in constant fear; she wanted to climb step by step, to reach the very top, to become the one person in all the world no one dared to challenge.

Thus, Lord Sakuya's redemption could not satisfy her, for she knew well: another's power is always another's; they may grant you salvation, but they may also one day release their grip and let you fall into an abyss from which there is no return.

Even if Lord Sakuya was not that kind of person, people change; in this damned world, who could remain purely kind forever? That was an unrealistic fantasy.

Even the radiant Lord Sakuya would one day bow to the world, lose her brilliance, and sink into corruption.

The mere thought of such a possibility tore Redleaf's heart apart and filled her with terror.

So she knew clearly: Lord Sakuya could only be a stepping stone on her climb upward, never a safe harbor in her life; she must never cling to that fleeting peace and abandon the path she had long decided upon.

Thus, she used Lord Sakuya's origins to oppress the hundred demons, gathering resources for herself; to change her pitiful talent and strength, she even begged Lord Sakuya to forge her into an Oni Blade Maiden.

A witch's talent is fated, unchangeable—but Lord Sakuya's Oni Blade Forging talent could defy heaven and alter destiny; in that forging process more painful than death, her resentment, her ambition, her entire being became raw material, fused into one, forming a brand-new Oni Blade talent.

Akiba (SSR): The red of maple leaves is the color of blood—you are the red leaf that drinks blood; bloodlust is your nature; you transform the blood you consume into your own power, growing from your thirst for it.

All suffering was worth it; this new Oni Blade talent was the foundation of her comeback. From then on, the only obstacle blocking her ascent was Lord Sakuya, the master of the Oni Blade.

No matter how powerful an Oni Blade, it still has a master—it is still controlled by Lord Sakuya—and that was something Redleaf could not tolerate.

So she seduced the noble elders of Heian-kyo, inciting them to launch a hunt against Demon Mountain, and in the final battle, she suddenly turned on her beloved Lord Sakuya.

Ah, that feeling of killing one's beloved—she would never forget it; the guilt and pain of that moment became venomous snakes, coiling tightly around her heart, tormenting her endlessly—even today, just recalling it made her gasp for breath.

He had been the only light in her life—and she herself had extinguished that light.

My Lord Sakuya, this wretched world is unworthy of your radiant soul; as long as this world continues as it is, your brilliance will one day dim, until swallowed by darkness.

I won't allow that. Lord Sakuya, my beloved—better that you depart in radiant glory than sink into this darkness.

I will devour every inch of your flesh and blood, Lord Sakuya; you and I will become one, inseparable forever.

That was what Redleaf thought in that moment.

Her Lord Sakuya would live on in her memory, in that world belonging solely to her, as an eternally shining light.

Too bad—just a little short. Just one final step away.

She failed to kill Lord Sakuya; she failed to turn her beloved into eternity.

The cost of this failure was immense: her betrayal had already stained that radiant light with blood, tainting its purity.

She did not kill Lord Sakuya—but she killed her own light.

On that day, watching Lord Sakuya's gaze toward her grow cold, Redleaf lost her beloved forever.

Though she could not erase the Oni Blade's master, Redleaf had successfully devoured Lord Sakuya's blood, absorbing a portion of her power from that intoxicating blood.

Though insufficient to let her forge blades as freely as Lord Sakuya, this power was enough to nullify the master's control over her; she became the only free Oni Blade that had devoured its master.

And now, it seemed she had finally achieved her old dream; in this land of Japan, few beings stood above her—even the General within the Tenshōkaku treated her with courtesy, and no one dared to bully her again.

But such a life was strangely hollow.

Yet now, the burning pain on her face stirred her nostalgia, made her ecstatic.

"Yes, yes, yes—this feeling, this pain."

"It hurts, I hurt so much, I'm dying of pain..."

Redleaf had always been hypersensitive; her perception of pain was many times keener than an ordinary person's. So, how much damage could two slaps and a kick do to such a hypersensitive body?

The strongest Oni Blade Maiden alive today immediately shed tears from the corners of her eyes, weeping openly.

And this pain jolted her back to clarity.

Yes—it's not enough. Far from enough. Isn't there still someone in this land of Japan who dares to humiliate me? I cannot stop. I must climb higher, even higher.

The alluring, seductive witch wept as her eyes hardened into fury.

She knew this was not the time to cause trouble; her original mission was to delay General Fujiwara, to buy her time to complete the ritual—once the ritual succeeded, nothing would matter anymore.

But now, emotions had overwhelmed her, and she could barely control herself.

"Minamoto no Raikō, are you just going to watch?"

She stared at the monstrous dragon-serpent towering before her, and for the first time in years, fear flickered in her eyes—and that fear made her even more exhilarated.

So she called out to her blade master, the greatest warrior of Japan.

Instantly, a torrent of malevolent energy surged from the Tenshōkaku, crimson killing aura rising like smoke to the heavens, staining the sky of Heian-kyo red, dimming even the dragon-serpent's brilliance.

A figure clad in full samurai armor slowly emerged from the castle.

The figure gazed at the dragon-serpent in the sky, her eyes blazing with fierce battle lust; then she extended her hand, and Redleaf transformed into a crimson samurai sword, landing in her grasp.

"Let me test the blade."

The warrior drew her sword into stance; a clear voice flowed from beneath the demonic mask covering her face, brimming with battle fervor.

Dorothy: "........."

What the hell is going on? Is there not a single person in this Tenshōkaku who can speak normally?

The Home Witch was speechless.

Whatever. It seems peace is impossible today—of course, forced demolition always comes with violence.

Dorothy studied the armored warrior before her and frowned in distaste.

How many people has this thing killed? Such overwhelming killing aura—it's soaked right into her bones.

The Home Witch could smell the cloying, nauseating stench of blood with every breath, emanating from the blood-red aura that stained the sky.

"How many people have you killed?"

The Home Witch couldn't resist her curiosity and asked.

She had felt such malevolence only on her stepmother or the Spider Master's person; perhaps her mother had it too—but Long Ma knew her daughter disliked battlefields, so she never showed her that side.

This was the aura of a combat witch who had fought on the front lines—the boundless killing aura forged by slaughtering countless lives.

But Japan had always been isolated; it never burned worlds like other combat witches did—where did such immense karmic debt come from?

Hearing the Home Witch's question, the armored warrior tilted her head in confusion, as if recalling something, then shook her head.

"I don't remember. Who remembers how many meals they've eaten in their lifetime?"

The clear voice answered with blunt honesty.

"Stop dwelling on these boring questions. Fight me. Defeat me, and you may pass."

The warrior stood before the main gate of the Tenshōkaku, her voice overflowing with battle lust.

Dorothy: "......"

Fuck, this is just a dumb, battle-obsessed maniac.

The Home Witch sighed helplessly; she now understood the warrior's nature.

With people like this, no words matter—they only want to fight, to kill you or be killed by you; nothing else concerns them.

Realizing this, Dorothy said no more.

But she had no intention of fighting; though the giant dragon-serpent behind her looked fearsome, it was merely a hollow illusion formed by the Lord of Tricksters gathering the power of a hundred demons—it would shatter at the first blow.

And her opponent was a true Wu Shen—a genuine Wu Shen, one who could easily pass the highest certification in the Witch World's Combat Arts.

She carved her path through slaughter, purifying her body with blood—this was pure, unadulterated Shura Wu Shen's Way. Among all War Gods, she was one of the most brutal fighters. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Worst case—just worst case.

Dorothy decisively found this too troublesome; she was no battle addict.

Though the Fairy King was one, and was currently screaming in her mind to not back down, to be a man and fight, to let him take over—Dorothy promptly silenced this Rexue idiot under Xu Xu Kequan's authority and prepared to order the hundred demons to swarm.

Yeah, for monsters radiating such killing aura, no need for honor or chivalry—just swarm and beat them to death together.

But before she could speak, a voice sounded beside her.

"My Lady, please lend me your strength."

Dorothy turned and saw the courtesan's beautiful, pleasing face.

"????"

The Home Witch was baffled.

Dorothy wasn't surprised that Ibu Yūgi stepped forward—after all, this Oni Queen had a deep grudge against the demon woman Redleaf.

But why didn't you volunteer? Why do you need my help?

"Because I can't beat both of them alone."

The courtesan saw right through the Lady's thoughts and answered plainly.

Dorothy: "..........."

Fine. You're right—it's so logical I don't know how to argue.

"How do you want me to help?"

The Home Witch asked.

The two opponents were a formidable pair, two peak-level warriors fighting in tandem; she and Ibu Yūgi were a seasoned veteran dragging along a rookie—Dorothy, this little witch, could only be a liability. She thought the Oni Queen should've requested help from another hundred demon, like Hachiji or Rokujō-myojin.

"Just use me properly, my Lady."

Ibu Yūgi stared deeply at the Oni Blade in the warrior's hand and spoke thus.

"Huh?"

Dorothy blinked, not understanding what that meant.

But soon, the towering courtesan before her reached out and took her hand, pressing it against her impenetrable chest.

"????"

The House Witch was even more baffled.

Can we do this in private?

But quickly, her expression changed as she realized something.

Her hand slipped into the Demon King's chest and found something thick and hard.

Ah, this is the hilt.

Dorothy suddenly understood.

Of course—other Blade Maidens could transform into blades, so Yin Chuiyong, as the master of such blades, could too.

But clearly, the former courtesan had never let anyone touch this part of her; Dorothy was the first to reach her depths.

Dorothy tugged at the hilt, trying to draw the blade.

But awkwardly, she couldn't budge it.

No surprise—Yin Chuiyong was Peak-level power; her transformed blade was naturally a divine artifact, and Dorothy, a mere lowly witch, hadn't reached the item's required rank.

But then she remembered something.

She activated the Slippery Demon's ability—the power of the Lord of Spirits and Phantoms began to envelop the blade.

Dorothy gripped the hilt again and pulled gently.

In the next instant, a brilliant flash of blade-light vanished—the crimson clouds Ningju by the Demon Warrior's aura split cleanly in two, and brilliant sunlight spilled across the earth.

But Dorothy didn't look at any of that—she only glanced down at the blade in her hand.

No, perhaps this couldn't even be called a sword—it was merely a sharp iron shard, or rather, an unfinished blade core, absurdly crude; yet even so, the glint along its edge was terrifyingly sharp.

On the blade core were three ancient characters.

"Ame-no-Murakumo"

Dorothy spoke those three characters aloud.

The blade, upon hearing its true name, immediately unleashed its power.

..... Cindy, Bankai activated.....