Chapter 264: If There Is No Future, Then Forge a New One (Combined Bonus Chapter, 4000 Characters)

No one knew how this great battle had been ignited, but all knew it would be brutal, with gods and demons falling.

And the confusion over the battle's origin soon changed…

At the other end of the celestial void, the initial battlefield's terrifying war still raged on, intensifying as the gods joined.

Even.

People saw that as the gods entered the initial battlefield, faintly visible in the depths of the void, in every direction, were other magnificent worlds, emitting aura signatures similar to the Initial Realm—seemingly formed from the shattering of the Initial Realm.

Some worlds were large, some small, dazzling beyond measure.

From within them emerged powerful beings rivaling gods and demons, walking or stepping through the void, their strides resounding with determination and unwavering resolve, heading toward the initial battlefield.

Their numbers were countless, impossible to count how many worlds, impossible to tally how many beings had come.

It was faintly understood: these worlds were those governed by the gods; now that the initial battlefield war had erupted, the mighty entities of these worlds had also thrown themselves into the initial battlefield, contributing their own strength.

This was a mythic war spanning countless worlds, with gods and demons as soldiers, those holding divine positions as generals, and ancient divine rulers of myths as commanders—cruel beyond measure.

At every moment, gods wept blood, great demons lay dead, noble-blooded Western dragons of myth were slain across the starry sky, and powerful mythic beings whose strength rivaled or even surpassed gods were torn apart in the high heavens.

One world after another shattered, billions of beings offering their blood as sacrifice, all to strike a single devastating blow against their enemies.

"That's—!"

Suddenly, someone cried out in shock.

At the very front line of the initial battlefield, visible across the void, boundless radiant light erupted, strikingly prominent.

A figure's body glowed with boundless serene Buddhist light, nine Buddhist rings encircled his head, his feet rested upon golden lotuses, divine as a god-buddha; his palm struck forth, and three thousand Buddhist chants echoed, shaking heaven and earth, as if spreading the Dharma to all worlds—faintly, even on Earth, the compassionate Buddhist voice could be heard.

Listening to it, the turmoil, fear, panic, and other emotions descending upon the initial battlefield all calmed.

"Master Konghai!!"

Countless people in Japan cried out hoarsely, the citizens of Otohisa with red eyes.

The radiant figure was Master Konghai—the one who had saved Otohisa, resurrected a thousand souls, spared countless families from grief over lost loved ones.

At this moment, Master Konghai was fighting alongside his enemies.

His expression remained as calm as ever, his radiant Buddhist light bringing peace, just as he had been when first seen in Otohisa—powerful, compassionate.

He was a living Buddha walking among mortals, saving all beings.

Yet his composure and strength did not mean his situation was easy—he was under siege, his face serene but caked in blood, his boundless serene Buddhist light blazing like fire, resembling red lotus karmic flames.

At the same moment, people also saw.

Beside Master Konghai stood a towering, mighty figure fighting shoulder to shoulder with him at the front line, striving to unleash the极致 of his life in this very moment—as if the entire meaning of his existence had been forged for this day, born solely to wage war upon the initial battlefield.

"Abe Tashin!!"

Director Takahashi and others recognized the towering figure—it was Abe Tashin, who after his battle with Tamamo-no-Mae in the Heian era, had vowed to atone by fighting endlessly in the initial battlefield, never returning.

He was still alive.

He had lived from the Heian era until now, yet no one felt joy.

Compared to the Abe Tashin seen in the ancient imprint of Tochigi Prefecture, this Abe Tashin had aged terribly—his hair was entirely white, his resolute eyes burdened with the weight of years and hardship, and filled with acceptance of death; his once-handsome face was now scarred beyond recognition.

What blood and fire had he endured over these thousand years to bear such horrific wounds? How had he survived this agonizing millennium?

Why live on? Would it not have been better to die here in the initial battlefield?

The world thought so.

It was not one person's thought—it was the thought of many.

In this cruel battlefield, where death loomed at every moment, where the mind was taut at every instant, death was easier than life.

Unconsciously,

people glanced at their loved ones and friends, and many fell silent.

They knew well what Abe Tashin was holding onto, understood why he chose not to die but to keep struggling to survive in the initial battlefield.

They knew. Everyone knew.

If they themselves fell, if they chose the ease of death, their families, friends, their beloved homeland would lose one more layer of safety—who would protect their families? Who would guard their homeland?

They could not die.

The cruelty of the initial battlefield was vivid before them; they dared not imagine, feared to imagine what would happen if the enemy stepped onto Earth.

So they could not die. They could not let such brutality happen upon their homeland.

"Was Master Saicho killed like this…?" someone in Japan asked.

No one answered him.

Who would know? No one knew how many gods, demons, transcendent beings, or yokai had died here, nor who they were—even their names might be forgotten, unremembered.

Silent sacrifice. Nameless death.

For a moment, over a billion people worldwide stared wide-eyed, fixed, afraid to blink lest they miss a single moment, watching the gods and demons locked in battle upon the initial battlefield.

"Son, remember the faces of these gods, demons, and transcendent beings—never forget. When you have your own son, your own grandson, tell them: once, there were these gods, demons, and transcendent beings—what they looked like, how they gave their lives, shed their blood, for the peace of our homeland."

Walter said deeply to his son, who had rushed to his side, pointing toward the initial battlefield within the sky's void.

The young boy, still too young to understand the world, nodded with innocent eyes; though he did not grasp the meaning of his father's words, he obediently looked up, memorizing.

Similar scenes unfolded across the world.

Remember the heroes fighting on the front lines! Never forget their sacrifices!!

The battle on the initial battlefield continued.

The enemies were too many; Master Konghai and Abe Tashin were attacked.

"Stop struggling—your future has been severed. Without a future, you are doomed to fail."

A dark emperor-like enemy, wielding a bloodstained demonic sword, surrounded Master Konghai with companions, while Abe Tashin too was besieged; both were too overwhelmed to aid each other, for each was in grave peril.

The Buddhist rings blazed like the sun, illuminating Master Konghai's divinity; he smashed the enemy's sand with one palm, his lips parting gently, the Buddhist chant echoing softly.

"Amitabha. If there is no future, then forge a new one."

"We are the future—how can you recreate it?" The Dark Emperor slashed with one sword: "All is futile."

"Submission is your only path to continuing the future," another Dark Emperor also moved.

There is no morality, no justice, no fairness—this is the original battlefield. Whether by ambush or encirclement, all that matters is killing your enemy.

A soft cry.

Behind Master Konghai's head, nine divine rings transformed into a Buddha realm; three thousand gods and buddhas seemed to chant across the heavens, blocking the assaults of two Dark Emperors whose strength rivaled his own—but even as he held them back, he was wounded, coughing blood as he staggered back.

He did not scream. He clasped his hands together, advancing forward; his Buddhist light became boundless Dharma, and in an instant, this blood-soaked world was purified into a Pure Land:

"If the path is blocked, forge a new one. If the path is wrong, obliterate the old path and create a new one."

"Forge a new path? How? By sealing off transcendental cultivation in the Primordial Realm? How absurd! We have severed time—our past no longer belongs to us, nor does your future belong to you. Past and future are now two separate eras. Your actions cannot affect the future."

The Dark Emperors' eyes glowed like black abysses, shimmering with shadows and ill omen; each sword strike summoned vast darkness, swallowing even light itself.

They are the great demons from "the other side."

Enveloped in dark mist, only two pairs of flickering, ominous dark eyes were visible—mysterious and eerie.

The next moment.

Several Dark Emperors from all directions struck together, trapping and sealing Master Konghai from every angle—no escape remained, all exits blocked.

"Master Konghai!!"

No one had time to ponder the meaning of the Dark Emperors' words to Master Konghai. Many clenched their hearts; the people of Higashio even watched with eyes tearing open.

He was their benefactor—and now they could only watch helplessly as he died.

"Someone, save Master Konghai!" cried a little girl who had been resurrected by Master Konghai, spared from becoming an orphan after losing her parents; tears fell plop-plop.

Boom!

A towering figure stepped upon star clouds, black light and Bai Mang swirling like yin and yang, a terrifying aura making all tremble.

At this moment, the Primordial Battlefield choked with oppressive force—as if heaven and earth's yin and yang were being reborn: yin energy became night, yang energy became day, the Dao of yin and yang burned with brilliant radiance, solemn and majestic.

Abe Tadachika was wreathed in a terrifying fluctuation that made heaven and earth feel as if yin and yang were reversing; with one step, space and void retreated, day and night inverted and flowed in an instant.

He obliterated one Dark Emperor, breaking open a gap in the impenetrable siege around Master Konghai, giving Master Konghai the chance to escape through the opening and saving him.

"Why did you do this?"

Master Konghai showed no joy. His calm, benevolent face bore a trace of sorrow as his gaze fell upon the yin-yang radiance swirling around Abe Tadachika.

It seemed Abe Tadachika had used some irreversible, fatal method to save him—giving his life entirely to save another's.

Abe Tadachika smiled lightly, and with his single remaining arm—left after his battle with Tamamo-no-Mae—he punched forward, shattering another Dark Emperor's body, and spoke:

"I should have died long ago. This life was given to me by Saichō. Before he died, he told me you would fight in the Primordial Battlefield for him, and asked me to look after you. So do not grieve for me—I am merely fulfilling the promise I made to Saichō."

It turned out Saichō had died fighting to save Abe Tadachika.

Now Abe Tadachika had sacrificed himself, summoning the Dao of heaven's yin and yang to empower himself—he was no longer himself, but the Dao, transforming his very being into the Dao.

When he died, his body, his bones, his soul would cease to exist, becoming part of the Dao.

People fell silent.

No wonder Abe Tadachika had grown so much stronger than before—so this was why…

"Konghai, I believe one day the Primordial Battlefield will be pacified. I will not live to see it. See it for me—and when you do, tell me at my grave and Saichō's."

Abe Tadachika left these words behind.

Standing tall, he burned himself to the extreme, his power surging to its zenith—he was now part of the Dao. Any transcendental cultivator who saw him would instantly awaken to the Dao, gain insight, for what they saw was no longer him—they seemed to behold the Dao itself.

At this moment,

his power reached an unprecedented height—his life's most glorious moment, and also its end.

He thrust out one fist, peerless in divine valor; his white hair glowed with radiant light—the radiance of the Dao, carrying the Dao. He no longer used Onmyōji techniques, but like Kamikawa Mitsu, he became a warrior, for now he was the vessel of the Dao—each punch, each strike carried the might of the Dao.

The Dark Emperors surrounding Master Konghai were blasted away by Abe Tadachika, piercing through a stretch of starry space, their shockwaves unmatched.

Visible now: beneath this sky, stars fell, great stars burned—inevitable.

The Dark Emperor's body shattered, riddled with gaping wounds; Abe Tadachika charged into that starry expanse and seized him.

"Time has been severed into two parts—then reconnect them. Reconnect past and future. Let you become the past, and us become the new future."

This was his reply to the Dark Emperor's earlier words—his voice thundered, vast and resounding across the six directions and eight wastes.

Then he punched—like a fist piercing through paper—and shattered the body of the Dark Emperor, whose strength had pierced starry realms. The fist-light surged boundlessly, breaking through the heavens, illuminating past and present!

No pause.

Having slain this Dark Emperor, he turned his gaze to the center of the Primordial Battlefield.

There stood an entity of extreme power—so mighty even the Dark Emperors bowed to him, terrifying beyond measure. Clearly, he had sensed Abe Tadachika's disturbance and descended.

No words.

Abe Tadachika charged toward this dark entity; the entity did the same.

They fought deep within the void of the Primordial Battlefield—this battle threatened to shatter the netherworld, pierce the boundaries between yin and yang, life and death, making countless worlds tremble.

They fought all the way to distant realms, beyond sight, into unknown battlefields.

"Will Abe Tadachika survive?"

Professor Beishan asked himself. No one answered, for they knew he already knew the answer.

Then they turned their gaze away from the deep void of the Primordial Battlefield where Abe Tadachika had vanished, focusing instead on the battle around Master Konghai.

Abe Tadachika had slain dozens of Dark Emperors, easing the pressure on Master Konghai's side—but it was not safety, not victory—the battle was not over.

Divine blood was sprayed.

Demon blood stained the stars of the Primordial Battlefield,

and even across distances of countless worlds, the horrific, bloody stench surged forward, filling the air, permeating the globe—every being, every creature trembled.

How many gods and demons must have died for the blood to grow so thick?

Perhaps…

No!

Absolutely.

The initial dark red of the battlefield earth was not the earth's natural color; too much blood of gods and demons had stained the land dark red.

……

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