Chapter 95

The netizens froze, as if struck by lightning, unprepared for someone so bold.

Justice’s Backstab: “Worship, bro, you’re insane—so quick to pledge loyalty to your new dad? Totally caught me off guard.”

Originally, this netizen had planned to roast the idea, and so had others.

But the next second.

The netizen who proposed the group-burning thread replied calmly.

Have you noticed? That 'strict-lipped Chìquǎn' hasn't said a word since he made that statement.

The 'strict-lipped Chìquǎn' was the netizen who exposed Yama no Orochi as Xiang Liu.

The message was sent.

Everyone’s urine and feces nearly escaped their bodies—their spines turned icy cold as ice sticks.

"@strict-lipped Chìquǎn, bro, you still there? Reply something."

No one responded.

For a moment, the internet fell utterly silent; outsiders might have thought the network had completely crashed or lost power.

After a full two minutes of silence, a netizen finally typed on the forum.

Justice’s Backstab: “Uh… I think the group-burning suggestion actually has merit.”

Immediately after:

I live close to the 'Chìquǎn's house—I just went over, and he’s gone…

As if the heart had suddenly stopped, the internet plunged into a violent silence.

“Let’s form a group.”

“Count me in.”

“To be safe, let’s burn it first.”

The netizens spoke up—no wonder they reacted this way; it was simply too terrifying. The netizen vanished without a trace, and it was hard not to believe China’s myths were truly supernatural.

Meanwhile:

In Tokyo, Japan, the National Diet.

The Prime Minister, about to head to the East Ogu battlefield to taste grass, was scrolling through his phone during the helicopter’s wait, just like the cabinet ministers beside him—and happened upon the netizens’ discussion.

Not looking was fine; looking gave him a heart attack.

His phone nearly slipped from his grip, and under the confused stares of the cabinet ministers, he handed it to them.

Their eyes widened sharply.

“Is this speculation true?” the cabinet minister asked, voicing a question he already knew the answer to.

Silence.

So quiet you could hear the air moving.

The cabinet ministers and the Prime Minister exchanged glances, saying nothing for a long while.

“Send someone to check if that netizen really disappeared—if… if he truly vanished, maybe we should tear down Yasukuni Shrine.” The Prime Minister finally voiced the thought he’d held back.

As he spoke, his face flushed with lingering dread.

After witnessing the power of Kūkai and Cimu, he couldn’t imagine how terrifying a being stronger than them might be—if such a being raged, death would become the most luxurious form of mercy.

…

In Tokyo, Arakawa Ward, an apartment.

After spending script points to silence the 'strict-lipped Chìquǎn', Wang Zun spent his last few script points.

He once again exhausted all his script points for the sake of the script.

In truth, he hadn’t planned to spend those final points—but after seeing the netizen’s post and then the group-burning suggestion, he decided to silence him.

The reason? Simple: he was Chinese in his past life.

As a Chinese person, who wouldn’t want to burn that thing?

If silencing the netizen could make the Japanese burn it themselves, he was more than willing to do it.

Beyond that:

He also wanted them to know that one mountain towers higher than another—so they wouldn’t grow arrogant, thinking themselves number one.

Of course, Wang Zun dared use Chinese mythology to scare the Japanese without fear of exposure because Chinese mythology simply is powerful—there’s no exposing it. Anyone who studies Chinese mythology knows that, across all global myths, China’s is unmatched in scale, power, and grandeur.

So if these Japanese netizens tried to expose it, they’d only dig deeper, grow more terrified, and ultimately become ardent fans of Chinese mythology.

“Nii-san, dinner’s ready.”

After watching the East Ogu livestream, Kamikawa Mitsu set out the now-cold dinner.

“Nii-san, I just saw online someone say… Nii-san, didn’t you say earlier that Tsuchimikado Xia Mei is the transfer student from your school?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, really?”

Kamikawa Mitsu covered her slightly open mouth, her pale face filled with astonishment.

Then, mysteriously, she asked Wang Zun:

“Nii-san, when you watched the livestream, did Tsuchimikado Xia Mei hold a bow? Was it the shrine’s Hama-yumi?”

Hama-yumi: a tool used by Shinto priests and miko to exorcise demons—infused with divine power to slay evil spirits.

Wang Zun, mid-meal, looked slightly startled.

Why was she dragging Tsuchimikado Xia Mei into dinner? Even if East Ogu had brought her up, why the bow?

Though he didn’t understand why she asked, Wang Zun put down his chopsticks and thought.

He recalled when he (Kūkai) had taken Tsuchimikado Xia Mei aside for a private talk—he remembered her thanking him for slaying the six-eyed demon, bowing with a bow in hand, deliberately carrying it on her back before bowing.

During their previous conversation about Shinto at school, she’d mentioned Hama-yumi; its shape and design matched the bow she held.

“Yes, it’s a Hama-yumi. Why do you ask?”

Wang Zun replied, curious why she was asking.

“Oh, nothing much, just curious.” Kamikawa Mitsu stuck out her tongue, ate two bites, hesitated, then asked again: “Nii-san, don’t you think Inuyasha’s Kikyo’s Hama-yumi looks just like Tsuchimikado Xia Mei’s?”

“It does look similar.” Wang Zun didn’t overthink it, seriously comparing.

The next moment:

Wang Zun suddenly understood.

So Mitsu thought Tsuchimikado Xia Mei’s bow looked like the anime’s—this girl really had wild imagination.

He didn’t notice that after receiving his answer, Kamikawa Mitsu’s expression shifted—surprise, then wonder.

Oh my god.

It really is a Hama-yumi.

Kamikawa Mitsu’s thoughts drifted back to days ago, when she’d joked that Tsuchimikado Xia Mei was Kikyo, Wang Zun was Inuyasha, and she herself was Kagome.

Her absurd fantasy had somehow come true.

Tsuchimikado Xia Mei really was Kikyo—both supernatural, both wielding Hama-yumi—truly a real-life Kikyo.

As she thought this, her large, watery eyes sparkled brightly.

If I was right about Tsuchimikado Xia Mei being Kikyo, then me being Kagome must be true too? Oh no—wait, I don’t have any spiritual power… but didn’t Kagome come from a Shinto family?

“Nii-san, I can’t remember—was Kagome from a Shinto family?”

“Kagome? Oh, you mean the female lead in Inuyasha? Yes, she’s from a Shinto family—a wealthy landowner who runs a shrine. I think her grandmother was a miko.”

Wang Zun laughed and sighed—this girl had just been fixated on Tsuchimikado Xia Mei’s bow, and now she was talking about Inuyasha. Her mind jumped fast.

But the next moment:

“Nii-san, wasn’t Kagome’s dad dead? Like… she’s fatherless?”

Huh?

Wang Zun nearly choked on his rice, staring at Kamikawa Mitsu with a strange look.

Mitsu, your mind doesn’t just jump fast—it’s bizarrely twisted.

From a bow to a dead father? How can you stretch a topic like this?

…