Chapter 74: Beneath Mount Fuji

Junko’s phone was unreachable, so Luo Quan did not rush to call the police; instead, she ran to the apartment’s surveillance room to investigate.

After explaining the situation, the security guard immediately pulled up the elevator footage from yesterday to today.

Fast-forwarding from yesterday morning, Luo Quan soon spotted a group of oddly dressed individuals.

Four men in white kendo uniforms entered the apartment elevator at noon, each carrying a sword—whether wooden or metal, she could not tell.

They exited on the same floor where Luo Quan and the others lived; about fifteen minutes later, they reentered the elevator, their clothing disheveled, as if they had been in a fight.

One of them carried Junko, unconscious, on his back, and as he stepped into the elevator, he glanced regretfully at the surveillance camera.

Luo Quan pressed pause and pointed to the man’s chest: “Can you zoom in on this area?”

“Of course!” The guard quickly typed a few keys; the image refreshed and enlarged, revealing the blurred pattern on the man’s chest clearly.

“Yagyū…”

Luo Quan suddenly understood.

“Miss Quan, should we call the police?” the guard asked, looking up.

“No, they’re Junko’s family,” Luo Quan shook her head, thanked the guard, then stepped outside with Wen Xia and hailed a taxi—destination: beneath Mount Fuji.

“Luo Luo, what’s going on? How do you know they’re Junko’s family?” Wen Xia, still confused and worried, asked in the car.

“Don’t you remember Junko said her family runs a kendo dojo? These men’s uniforms bear the characters ‘Yagyū’—they’re definitely disciples sent by her grandfather to fetch her!”

“Then where are we going?”

Luo Quan took a deep breath and said: “Beneath Mount Fuji. The Yagyū Kendo Dojo is Tokyo’s top kendo school, located at the foot of Japan’s holiest mountain.”

Wen Xia frowned: “These people sound dangerous. Are you sure just the two of us are enough? Shouldn’t we bring help?”

“If we’re lucky, just the two of us will suffice.”

“And if we’re not lucky?”

“If we’re not lucky, bringing more people won’t help!”

Wen Xia fell silent, silently praying their journey would be blessed.

Tokyo is over a hundred kilometers from Mount Fuji; even with no traffic, the taxi ride took an hour and a half. Japanese taxis are famously expensive, costing at least several ten thousand yen.

Fortunately, for her current wealth, this was pocket change—if she weren’t desperate about Junko’s situation, she wouldn’t have wasted it so carelessly.

The hour-long drive passed quickly; now, through the window, they could see Mount Fuji standing tall between earth and sky.

As Japan’s holiest mountain, Fuji appeared from afar as a flat triangle, its peak perpetually capped with snow.

Though summer had arrived, the white snow showed no sign of melting, still veiling the summit like a beauty hiding her peerless face beneath a veil.

But today, the veil seemed too large—its edges extended beyond the mountain’s body.

As the taxi drew closer to Mount Fuji, Luo Quan finally realized the veil was merely a massive white cloud, perfectly positioned to obscure Fuji behind it and mimic the snow-capped peak.

“We’re here!” The driver pulled over beside the road at the mountain’s base; the trail up the mountain lay just ahead.

After swiping her card to pay, Luo Quan and Wen Xia stepped out onto the roadside.

“Which way now?” Wen Xia gazed around; scattered homes were visible, but most structures were resorts.

“The Yagyū Kendo Dojo is right at the foot of Mount Fuji—this place isn’t far,” Luo Quan quickly located the dojo on Google Maps; it was only five hundred meters away.

The two women walked for ten minutes until they reached the base of a small hill.

At the trailhead stood a towering torii gate; climbing the green stone steps, they could see black eaves at the path’s end.

On either side of the steps, silence and calm reigned; a gentle breeze stirred, and occasionally, clear birdcalls echoed—listen closer, and even the murmur of a stream could be heard.

That stream was formed by melted snow from Fuji’s peak, the purest natural water, nearly untouched by human pollution; it was said to taste sweet, though mostly false.

Water tastes sweet because it’s rich in minerals, but this stream flowed from melted ice and snow—no flavor could possibly be sweet.

At the top of the steps stood a grand complex, its high walls completely blocking outside surveillance.

Only one gate, one zhang wide, opened in the center; above it hung a plaque bearing the bold, ink-drenched characters “Yagyū Kendo Dojo”—the brushstrokes wild and unrestrained, each stroke merging into the next, clearly written in one swift motion, revealing the calligrapher’s profound mastery.

Two boys, under a meter and thirty centimeters tall, sat at the dojo’s entrance, clad in kendo uniforms so large they could double as bathrobes—comically absurd.

Under the blazing sun, the two young apprentices napped beneath the eaves, leaning against the wall; one boy dribbled a glistening thread of drool from his lips, smiling peacefully, clearly dreaming of something wonderful.

“Sumimasen!” Luo Quan called out loudly; the boys jolted awake, scrambling to their feet in panic, crying: “Senior brother, don’t hit me! Don’t hit me!”

Luo Quan smiled: “Don’t be afraid—we’re friends of Yagyū Junko. We’ve come specially to find her.”

“Junko’s friend?” The boy on the left stared at Luo Quan, eyes wide, drool forgotten.

“So beautiful, this foreign sister,” he murmured.

“Kōta, stop daydreaming!” his companion shouted, scolding him for his impoliteness.

Kōta blushed, quickly apologizing: “Sorry! Sorry!”

Luo Quan ignored the details and asked: “Is Junko home? Can you call her out?”

The two boys exchanged glances and whispered: “Junko was brought back yesterday by Senior Ryōsuke and the others. Soon after, she had a huge argument with the Flow Master.”

Now Junko is under total house arrest. Even if you’re her friend, she can’t come out to see you.”

Hearing this, Luo Quan’s heart sank—she knew this matter would be difficult.

Kōta added: “But you can go inside to see Junko—the Flow Master probably won’t refuse.”

Luo Quan nodded: “Then please inform him that a visitor named Luo Quan has come to pay respects.”