Chapter 361: A Terrible Enough Day

Feng Xue’s reasoning was clear: he had no idea what the Dragon Temple’s foundation stone was for, and staying here was no different from just leaving behind a small bell to watch over it.

Better to take this chance and cause chaos in Uota, and strengthen my divine duties as Kitaro Kajinshin.

But how to do it?

Feng Xue didn’t want to draw too much attention; after reviewing the cards in his hand, he suddenly smiled—a slightly deranged grin.

“You use karmic intimidation against cultivators, right? Let you see what true karma is!”

…

The salty sea wind, thick with coal smoke, swept across the waterway; Heitaro sat on his doorstep, staring blankly at the last three sardines in his wooden tub. The dried bonito hanging under the eaves had been torn away by creditors; the newspaper pasted on the wall, the Uota Asahi Shinbun, still bore half-ripped headlines from the rice riots: “The Dawn of the New Era of Ko-sha—”.

“...” He clenched his cracked bamboo basket, lacking even the will to curse, and mechanically mended his nets, hoping for a sliver of luck.

The Mitsubishi steamship chugged past the bay; those iron-hulled ships with German diesel engines dragged away three hundred thousand saury daily, while his cypress boat had caught only seven Za fish today—four of them still bore the scrape marks of trawling nets.

Today’s catch was barely enough to buy a few moldy pickled plums; feeding his five-family household was clearly impossible. His eldest son had carried his younger sister to the harbor to scavenge fish bones; his wife still peeled sardines at the cannery; his elderly mother had survived the winter, but her heavy breathing told him she had few days left.

The sky wasn’t good today, but he still planned to go out to sea again tonight...

“I’ll sleep a bit first—it’ll save some food,” Heitaro thought, turning to enter the house, when suddenly his vision blurred.

The real world turned dreamlike; the dilapidated fishing village now resembled a refined ink painting. Heitaro didn’t understand refinement—he only knew he had two children to feed, and he couldn’t vanish like this.

He ran, ran, then suddenly saw a tree, its branches hanging one fruit—so alluring, so sweet. He wanted to pick it, but remembered his mother’s childhood tale: “Never eat food from the spirit realm.” Yet the fruit radiated a strange magic; merely smelling its fragrance made him feel years younger.

“Delicious...” When he came to his senses, the fruit was already gone. Heitaro froze—

“Oh no, what do I do!”

Before he could even wonder if eating the fruit would trap him, his world snapped back to normal—he was still sitting outside his door, the hanging nets still dripping.

“So I can return? Damn it! Why didn’t I save half for Sachiko!”

He savored the lingering sweetness in his mouth, regretting how hastily he’d eaten—but then, a flood of information suddenly appeared in his mind.

“Thousand-Year Dragon King... Blessing... Revenge, Judgment, Destruction...”

The torrent of knowledge overwhelmed Heitaro; he felt his body had changed drastically, and according to the voice in his head, all he needed to do was...

“No, how could I kill anyone!”

His peasant’s fear made him suppress the mad thought; he reasoned that with such a healthy body, he could surely catch more fish...

But just then, louder than usual, the clatter of wooden geta echoed along the muddy path. Heitaro’s heart lurched. Ignoring his condition, he spun to rush inside—but it was too late. The tax collector, dressed like a gentleman, toyed with a gilded pocket watch; his enforcers immediately kicked open the door:

“Plot 37, Hachiri-cho. Outstanding fishing tax: two yen, seventy sen.”

Heitaro immediately said:

“Give me a few more days—I’ll go out tonight, I’ll definitely...”

But who would believe a fisherman who earned only seventy sen (0.7 yen), even in peak season, could pay this sum?

So no one listened. The tax enforcers kicked him aside; as they reached for his last stored grain, the final thread snapped.

“Squelch!”

Hot, foul blood gushed from the tax collector’s pierced chest. He stared in disbelief at the fish spear piercing his man—his mind went blank. The other tax collectors, seeing this, surged forward. Unlike their lofty superior, they were hired to bully; now that someone dared resist, naturally—

“Squelch!”

The fish spear, which looked utterly powerless, became in Heitaro’s hands like a veteran general’s long spear—easily skewering the tax collectors like candied haws.

Heitaro had lost all rational thought; his last shred of reason only told him he couldn’t lose this last grain.

No turning back.

He impaled the dying tax collector, who was no better than a peasant, then stared blankly at the scene before him. Fear rose in his chest—but the knowledge and power flooding his mind also drew him in, mesmerized.

“Lower over upper...” He murmured the Warring States tales he’d heard as a child, letting the stench of blood fill his nose.

Following the knowledge in his mind, he silently prayed. One by one, the corpses turned to dust. He wrapped the belongings in scattered clothes and hid them beneath the tatami’s hollow floor. He stepped out of his door, now smashed open.

Whether by coincidence or not, at that moment his gaze turned toward the center of Uota City—so prosperous, so distant. Yet even though he’d lived near Uota Bay his whole life, for the first time he felt: that place, now, was terrifyingly close.

He grabbed his fish spear, tore a strip of cloth, tied it around his head, and walked toward it.

With every step, his form changed: the hunched, shuffling gait of a fisherman grew tall and strong; his breath deepened into rhythmic cadence; his movements subtly refined.

And within him, a force began to flow slowly...

Leaving the fishing village, he saw fishermen dressed like him, yet resembling samurai. On the road, he saw laborers from factories walking like samurai. Entering the city, he saw porters, carters, and servants—all dressed like samurai.

Passing a shop he’d never entered, he caught his reflection in a glass display window.

Without realizing it, he now looked like a samurai too.

(End of Chapter)