A scorching, fiery wind dispersed the sickening stench of blood that hung over the Kyoto Colony.
A bottomless, dark-red fissure cleaved the center of the street, cutting off all of Yotohime's retreat paths.
Yoru stood quietly in front of Maki Zenin, the Shiranui in his hand radiating a heart-stopping, deep-red halo.
Without even turning around, he merely tilted his head slightly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the blood-drenched, swaying Maki.
"Good work."
Yoru's voice was very soft, yet it carried a gentle strength capable of soothing all pain.
"You did well. You didn't disgrace the name of Heavenly Restriction."
"Leave the rest to me."
Hearing those words, the string that had been pulled taut within Maki finally snapped loose.
She parted her chapped lips as if to say something, but in the end, only a strained, awkward smile surfaced.
"You bastard... always loving the limelight..."
Before her voice faded, Maki's vision went black, and her whole body fell straight backward.
Thud.
A powerful palm caught her firmly.
Without anyone noticing, Kinji Hakari had already arrived on the scene with Kirara Hoshi and the others.
"Boss, leave this girl to me."
Kinji Hakari handed Maki to Kirara Hoshi behind him and grinned, his wild eyes fixed intently on Yotohime in the distance.
"Though that crazy sword-wielding woman across from us looks like she can take quite a beating."
"Want me to go up and play a couple rounds with her?"
Yoru slowly shook his head.
"No need."
He turned around, the patterns of the Transparent World already beginning to slowly spin within his crimson eyes.
"Her blade is somewhat interesting."
"I'll handle this myself."
Only now did the distant Yotohime finally recover from the shock wrought by that terrifying pillar of fire.
She glared fixatedly at Yoru, the single eye exposed beneath her Hannya mask brimming with unprecedented panic and dread.
"What... what kind of monster are you?!"
Yotohime's voice turned shrill from extreme tension.
She could sense that the man before her did not have even the slightest trace of cursed energy fluctuating about him.
He was just like a lifeless stone.
Yet that tangible pressure, that absolute disparity making it feel as though he could utterly crush her with a single glance, caused every cell in her body to scream frantically to flee!
Four hundred years ago, she had challenged countless master swordsmen and jujutsu sorcerers.
Yet never had there been a single person who, merely by standing there, could instill such despair in her that she nearly lost the courage to draw her blade.
"Answer me! Just who are you?!"
The hands with which Yotohime gripped "Blood Sakura" began to tremble uncontrollably.
Yoru did not answer her question.
He merely raised Shiranui slowly, its tip angling toward the ground.
"Your swordsmanship mimics the trajectory of flowing water, attempting to overwhelm your opponent with relentless attacks."
Yoru's voice was as calm as if he were critiquing a novice apprentice.
"However, your mind is too chaotic."
"Your thirst for blood has clouded your sword's resolve."
"A cursed blade that knows only how to devour can never sever truly unyielding substance."
Hearing Yoru's condescending critique, the anger Yotohime had suppressed out of fear instantly erupted.
"Shut up! Drop the arrogant talk!"
"You're nothing more than a monkey without a shred of cursed energy!"
"Don't think that just because you blocked one of my strikes with some strange parlor trick, you can lecture me here!"
Boom!
Yotohime viciously bit the tip of her tongue, spraying a mouthful of vital blood onto the tachi in her hands.
"Blood Sakura" instantly erupted with a blinding red glow, releasing a mournful, shrill wail like a living creature.
"Die! Maximum: Blood Sakura Mad Dance!"
Yotohime transformed into a crimson tornado, hurtling furiously toward Yoru with terrifying cursed energy capable of shredding a whole mountain to pieces!
Facing this cataclysmic, ferocious strike,
Yoru's gaze remained utterly devoid of ripples.
Even the cadence of his breathing did not alter in the least.
Just as that crimson tornado was about to swallow him whole,
Yoru moved.
"Total Concentration, Sun Breathing, Second Form."
"Clear Blue Sky."
Clang—!
Shiranui traced a perfect, deep-red circular arc through midair.
This slash lacked the apocalyptic, terrifying heat from before, as well as the violent kinetic force that ripped space apart.
It was like the rising morning sun, carrying an indescribable, pure beauty that seemed capable of cleansing all impurities in the world.
Rising smoothly from bottom to top.
Rippp!
There was no earth-shattering collision.
Only the crisp sound of tearing silk.
The moment the crimson tornado unleashed with all of Yotohime's might came into contact with "Clear Blue Sky," it was like snow meeting the scorching sun—cleaved clean in two down the middle!
"Aaargh!"
Yotohime let out a piercing shriek, flying backward through the air like a kite with a snapped string.
The "Blood Sakura" in her grasp, that cursed blade which had once devoured the blood of countless formidable warriors,
was snapped cleanly into two halves at this very moment!
The mirror-smooth fracture did not spill even a single drop of blood; instead, it was sealed shut entirely by an exquisitely pure force.
Crash!
Yotohime slammed heavily against the ground, tumbling over a dozen times before finally coming to a halt.
Half of the Hannya mask on her face had shattered, exposing a fair, beautiful visage filled with utter terror.
"My blade... my Blood Sakura..."
Yotohime stared blankly at the broken blade remaining in her hand, completely broken, as if she had lost her very soul.
One strike.
It was merely a single strike.
Not only did it shatter her strongest Maximum, but it had even severed the cursed blade she took such pride in!
Moreover, she could clearly sense that at the final moment, the other party had deliberately reeled in that lethal, scorching heat.
Otherwise, she would have already been burned to a pile of ash alongside that blade.
This was not a battle at all.
This was a one-sided, utterly undisputed crushing!
Tap, tap, tap.
Sheathing his blade, Yoru walked slowly over to Yotohime.
He looked down at this ancient female swordswoman who had once stirred up countless storms of blood four hundred years ago.
Within his crimson eyes, a faint chill flickered.
"Your sword is broken."
Yoru's voice echoed through the dead-silent street.
"Yet I have spared your life."
"Now, I give you two choices."
Yoru met Yotohime's terror-filled eyes.
"First: I use this blade to burn you, along with your pointless bloodlust, into ash."
"Second: drop that scrap iron and follow me."
Yoru paused slightly, his tone bearing an unquestionable, absolute dominance.
"I will teach you what true swordsmanship really is."
Hearing those words, Yotohime shuddered all over as she lay on the ground.
She looked at the man before her, invincible as a god, and looked at the tachi at his waist radiating a deep-red halo.
An unprecedented sense of submission welled up uncontrollably from the depths of her soul.
The bloody hunt that had swept through the Kyoto Colony was brought to a definitive, jaw-dropping conclusion within mere minutes of this man's arrival.
And with Yotohime's submission, the invincible legion behind Yoru once again gained a formidable ancient warrior.
Yet this was merely the beginning.
For Yoru's gaze from the Transparent World had already bypassed these ruins, locking firmly onto the General Headquarters building lurking in the deepest reaches of the Kyoto Colony, shrouded in decay and sin.
"Let's go."
Yoru turned and led the group, stepping over pools of blood and wreckage as they walked toward their next target.
"Next, it's time to teach those rotten oranges their final lesson."