Chapter 241: I Want It All
Hikaru bent down, his fingers brushing against the coarse rubble before closing around the sarira.
Its milky-white surface was perfectly smooth and heavy in his palm. Veins of liquid gold flowed across the round bead, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light between his fingers. Beneath that polished exterior, he could sense an immense, sleeping force of absolute purity. It was neither the corrosive Yao Qi he was accustomed to, nor standard spiritual power. It was pure merit—the physical manifestation of a Buddhist practitioner's lifelong vows, condensed into a single point.
A familiar translucent panel flickered into his vision.
[Buddha Bone Sarira: Quality · Divine Artifact. Favorability: 0.]
[Note: A crystallization of merit condensed by Master Hakushin before his enlightenment and nirvana using his own Power of Will, remaining within the 'Six-Tusked White Elephant'guardian spirit. It contains the essence of Taigen Sessai's Power of Will and the power of enlightenment, currently in a dormant state. Can be romanced—has a probability of obtaining the power of the Buddhist'Five Supernatural Powers'.]
Just as he suspected.
This was not Master Hakushin's personal sarira. Hakushin's mortal flesh had long since transcended into a living Bodhisattva, expanding to form the sprawling foundations of Mount Hakurei. Now that his spirit had departed, the mountain was destined to collapse; his merit and lifelong practice were complete, leaving absolutely nothing behind in the mortal realm.
The true origin of this bead belonged to someone else entirely.
Taigen Sessai.
To be precise, this was the physical 'vessel' for the guardian spirit that Sessai had gifted to Yoshimoto. Compared to Master Hakushin, whose earthly obsessions had entirely faded upon attaining Buddhahood, Sessai still harbored lingering attachments to the mortal world. He valued Yoshimoto's survival far too much. That fierce loyalty, while driving him to deep depths of Buddhist cultivation, ultimately left behind a heavy anchor of worldly obsession.
Before his death, Sessai had transformed his own sarira into an intangible form, binding it to Yoshimoto to protect her. But now, Master Hakushin had reshaped that lingering will back into a tangible object, gifting it—or rather, returning it—to Hikaru.
Unsurprisingly, the grade of this Buddha Bone Sarira was staggering.
Divine Artifact level.
It stood on equal footing with the Sacred Tree and the Shikon Jewel. This marked the second Divine Artifact-level romanceable object he had acquired, following the Shikon Jewel's ascension to maximum favorability.
While a Divine Artifact did not automatically guarantee overwhelming destructive power, Hikaru understood the underlying mechanics of this world. The classifications of God, Demon, and Mortal represented an inclination of attributes rather than a strict hierarchy of raw strength. A masterfully forged Mortal Artifact could easily rival a Demonic Tool, and a vicious Demonic Tool could hold its ground against a Divine Artifact. However, the baseline potential—the absolute lower limit—of a Demonic Tool was vastly superior to a Mortal Artifact, and a Divine Artifact's baseline eclipsed them all.
Divine artifacts were exceptionally rare, and undeniably precious.
Hikaru quietly tucked the sarira into the folds of his robes, resting it against his chest.
Then, he looked down at his own hands.
The Asura Transformation had completely receded into his flesh. After the Twelfth Transformation had fully converged, his physical form felt entirely alien to him. He was like a different person.
Pale, flowing hair cascaded down his back, catching the dim light with a faint, almost imperceptible crimson sheen. The two jagged horns that normally protruded from his forehead had retracted completely, the dense bone now hidden smoothly beneath his hairline, impossible to detect without running a hand over his scalp.
The chaotic, five-colored patterns of his Crimson Demon Eyes had quieted. They settled into a deep, striking scarlet base, bordered only by an extremely fine, razor-thin golden ring on the outer edge of his pupils.
His skin held actual warmth.
His pulse beat a steady, rhythmic drum against his wrists.
The Breath of the Demon operated autonomously, causing his chest to rise and fall in shallow, natural breaths. Every exhale carried the faint mist of true qi.
Beyond the surface, his internal architecture had shifted. His organs functioned freely, acting as the core for a vast, pulsating network of meridians that extended silently through his limbs. The five viscera had transformed into the six entrails.
Standing amidst the ruins, he looked exactly like a young human samurai of seventeen or eighteen—fair-skinned, composed, radiating a cold, untouchable temperament. Carrying two swords at his waist and a massive greatsword strapped to his back, his only distinguishing features were his unusually pale hair and striking red eyes.
To the naked eye, he was a genuine, living human being.
But the monster remained. The moment he willed it, the horns would tear through his skin, armored scales would ripple across his flesh, and the devastating might of the Asura Transformation would detonate outward. His five viscera and three souls could be maxed out in a fraction of a second.
Switching from the fragile guise of a mortal to the terrifying mass of a great demon took nothing more than a single thought.
The sensation was bizarre, yet deeply satisfying. It felt like finally slipping into a perfectly tailored garment after years of wearing ill-fitting rags. All the previous patching, mending, and forced evolution had resulted in this flawless equilibrium.
"Have you put the item away?"
Kikyo's voice drifted from the shadows behind him.
She stood at the jagged gap where the wooden corridor had collapsed into the mountainside. Her longbow was securely stowed across her back. A thin layer of pale rubble dust clung to her pristine white kosode and red hakama. The biting mountain wind whipped her black hair into a slight disarray, pressing a few stray strands against her pale cheeks.
Her face was a mask of cold, aloof perfection. No extra emotion leaked through.
But Hikaru had known her long enough. He had studied her long enough to read the microscopic, half-millimeter shift in the arch of her eyebrows.
She was enduring something.
And he didn't need a system prompt to guess what it was.
"It is put away," he replied, keeping his tone perfectly level.
Kikyo offered a soft hum. Her dark eyes swept across his face, lingering for exactly half a second on his lips, before sliding away.
On the opposite side of the debris field.
Imagawa Yoshimoto was still sitting on the rubble-strewn ground, making zero effort to stand.
Her luxurious, deep purple kimono, threaded with spun gold, was crumpled into an undignified mess. Her loose black hair clung to the sweat on her neck. The ornate hair accessory on the left side of her head hung crookedly, and the matching hairpin on the right was lost entirely to the ruins.
Her face was burning.
A furious, flushed red spread from her earlobes all the way to her temples, dyeing even the slender column of her neck a deep pink.
Her fingers drifted upward, unconsciously brushing against her lower lip. She flinched and pulled her hand back, only for her fingers to betray her and reach up to touch the skin again a second later.
She was desperately trying to convince herself that the moment the White Elephant had thrown her to the ground was a complete accident. That her mouth crashing directly into his was a cruel trick of physics.
But they had kissed.
And... had it lasted a while?
No, it had only been a fraction of a second. A mere collision of teeth and lips.
So why did the memory stretch out so long in her mind? Why could she still feel the lingering chill of his skin?
Yoshimoto's brain was short-circuiting.
She finally scrambled up from the dirt, slapping the dust off her ruined kimono in a frantic attempt to salvage whatever dignity the Lord of the Three Provinces had left.
Then, she saw Kikyo.
Kikyo was already looking at her.
The two women stood less than ten paces apart, the ruined courtyard stretching between them. Their gazes locked.
The air in the mountains dropped ten degrees.
Ultimately, it was Yoshimoto who broke first, her eyes darting away toward the ground.
Kikyo calmly withdrew her gaze.
Neither spoke a single word. Yet the sheer volume of silent communication exchanged in that split second carried more weight to Yoshimoto than thirty thousand words of military reports from her generals.
Hikaru stood perfectly still between them. Kikyo on his left. Yoshimoto on his right.
He could physically feel the two distinct gazes drilling into the sides of his head—one freezing cold, one burning hot.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Yoshimoto broke the silence, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound authoritative. "Just now, that was the White Elephant's fault, not mine. I did not do it on purpose—"
"I know."
Kikyo's reply was flat.
The tone was too calm. So unnervingly calm that Yoshimoto's panic spiked.
"It really was an accident! The White Elephant flew over on its own; I originally intended to brace myself with my hands—"
Kikyo responded with another hum.
Just a single, quiet sound.
Yoshimoto snapped her mouth shut. Every survival instinct she possessed as a warlord was screaming at her that if she spoke another syllable, she would die. Not by the claws of a demon, but quietly 'finished off' by the serene shrine maiden standing across from her. Or worse—sealed away to suffer a fate far more agonizing than death.
After a few agonizing seconds of silence, Kikyo turned her attention back to Hikaru.
"Your thoughts, Hikaru."
Her tone remained conversational. But Hikaru knew better. This wasn't a polite inquiry, nor was it an offer of an easy way out. She genuinely wanted to hear his unfiltered thoughts.
He considered the situation for a moment.
Then, he spoke.
"Kikyo."
She met his gaze.
Hikaru let two seconds pass, and then, surprisingly, he smiled. It wasn't his usual dry, mocking smirk, but a genuine, open expression.
"I will tell the truth."
He looked directly into Kikyo's dark eyes.
"Yoshimoto is very important to my plan. The Imagawa Clan is the faction I chose to back. Taigen Sessai entrusted her to my care, and the power of the White Elephant could only be transmitted because of her presence."
"But if it were only a matter of utility—then there would be no conflict with you. You are you, she is she. A business arrangement is just a business arrangement."
Kikyo remained silent, her posture relaxed, waiting for the inevitable drop.
Yoshimoto held her breath, her chest tight with sudden anxiety.
"The problem is—"
Hikaru's Crimson Demon Eyes, framed by that striking golden ring, held no deception. "She has feelings for me. I can tell. And as for my feelings towards her—"
He paused.
Yoshimoto's heart hammered violently against her ribs.
Kikyo's fingers curled inward, the fabric of her sleeve tightening by a fraction of an inch.
"I like her too."
It was the absolute truth. Hikaru's impression of Imagawa Yoshimoto had been positive from the very beginning. While she didn't hold the same deep weight in his soul as Kikyo, she was undeniably a beautiful, capable woman with a fierce spirit.
That initial attraction had played a minor role in his decision to rescue her. It had factored into their ongoing alliance. And later, watching her exhaust her clan's resources to help him locate Totosai had only deepened that appreciation.
And like was simply like. As a demon constantly warring against the Turbid Qi of desire, and even more so as a man who retained his human core, Hikaru had accepted long ago that strict monogamy was a near-impossible concept for his nature.
The only thing he could offer was absolute honesty and absolute responsibility.
He would never abandon what was his.
And he would pursue the absolute power required to protect them all, forging a strength of heart and blade that no force in the Sengoku era could shatter.
The moment the words left his mouth, Yoshimoto's face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. Her eyes widened, swirling with an indescribable mix of shock and elation.
Kikyo's eyebrows twitched.
"So you mean to say—"
"Whether it is you or her, no matter who it is, I will not give up."
Hikaru delivered the words with crisp, clean finality. There was no hesitation, no cowardly beating around the bush. It was his signature style.
"However... as I agreed with you before, you are the first. That will never change."
He held Kikyo's gaze firmly. "I will not insult your intelligence by lying to you and claiming I have no feelings for others."
"But whether it is you, or anyone, or anything else, I will not give up."
He was a demon, after all.
Demons were creatures of extraordinary desire and obsession. That overwhelming greed was the very foundation of their existence.
Kikyo fell silent.
Yoshimoto stood frozen, equally speechless.
The howling mountain wind poured through the shattered corridor, violently snapping the hems of the two women's clothes and whipping their hair into the air.
The silence stretched out, feeling like an eternity, yet passing in the blink of an eye.
Then, Kikyo moved.
Her pace was deliberate, neither hurried nor slow. The hem of her white kosode and red hakama brushed softly against the ruined stone, producing a quiet, rhythmic rustle.
Hikaru stood his ground, his Crimson Demon Eyes tracking her approach until she stopped mere inches from his chest.
Kikyo's expression remained perfectly placid. As always, neither joy nor anger could be deciphered from her beautiful features.
Slowly, she raised her hand.
She gathered the wide, flowing sleeve of her white priestess robe into her palm, holding the pristine fabric like a silk handkerchief. She reached up toward his face.
Hikaru blinked.
The soft fabric pressed firmly against his lips.
She wiped his mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.
From the left corner to the right, dragging across his lower lip and then his upper. The pressure was careful, neither too gentle nor too rough, as if she were polishing a priceless artifact to remove a layer of grime.
Or rather—removing the traces left by someone else.
Which was exactly what she was doing.
Ten paces away, Yoshimoto watched the display in stunned disbelief. Her jaw dropped, her mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. She wanted to scream, to protest, but a thick knot of indignation and embarrassment blocked her throat.
Satisfied, Kikyo lowered her hand, letting the sleeve drop back to her side. She stared down at the fabric for a moment, her face unreadable.
Then, she looked up.
Her deep black pupils locked onto his Crimson Demon Eyes. They were so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.
"You really have…"
Her voice was a fragile whisper, meant only for him. "...come back to life."
She could feel it. The sheer reality of his existence radiating from his skin. The body heat that had been entirely absent before. The steady, rhythmic thumping of his heart, as natural and true as any mortal man's.
He was experiencing genuine, heart-stirring emotions because of her.
At that realization, the lingering tension in Kikyo's mind evaporated into smoke. The discomfort she had braced herself for, the slight twinge of jealousy and rejection... it all dissolved into nothingness.
As long as he was happy, she could accept it.
As long as he remained by her side, it was fine.
As long as he never hid his true nature from her and trusted her completely, she would endure the rest.
Kikyo loved his brutal honesty. She loved this living, breathing version of Hikaru even more than the cold undead warrior she had first met.
Everything else was just trivial noise.
A shrine maiden living in an era of endless bloodshed rarely had the luxury of asking for much.
"That is enough."
The moment the words left her lips, she raised both hands and cupped the back of his head.
Her slender fingers threaded through his long, pale hair, pressing against his scalp. It was warm. The vibrant heat of a living being pulsed against her skin.
Kikyo pulled his head down.
Their lips crashed together. It wasn't the gentle, fleeting touch of a dragonfly skimming the water, nor the shallow peck of daily routine. It was a deep, bruising kiss, carrying the weight of everything they had survived.
She bit down hard on his lower lip.
A sharp, possessive sting. A physical seal claiming ownership.
Hikaru's arms moved instinctively, wrapping tightly around her waist. His palms pressed into the small of her back. The fabric of her priestess robe was thin enough that he could feel the exact curve of her spine, the heat of her skin radiating into his hands.
Kikyo's body felt softer than before. Hotter.
And for the first time, he possessed the body temperature to match her heat.
She pulled back just enough to breathe, then crashed her lips against his again, repeating the motion with increasing intensity. From his mouth to the sharp line of his jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of his neck—she was systematically overwriting every lingering trace of Yoshimoto with her own scent and touch.
It was an absolute declaration of territory.
"I heard what you said," Kikyo whispered hoarsely against his ear, her hot breath ghosting over the hollow of his throat. "You won't abandon anyone. I believe you. And I accept this greedy nature of yours."
"But you must first make up for what you owe me."
Her hand slid down from the back of his head, resting flat against the center of his chest. Right over his heart.
She paused for two seconds, feeling the rhythm.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The powerful, steady beat vibrated against her palm.
Kikyo's eyelashes fluttered. The corners of her mouth twitched, curving upward into a microscopic, yet undeniably genuine smile.
Her hand began to slide lower—
Hikaru caught her wrist.
"There are still people here," he pointed out dryly.
Kikyo tilted her head up, her dark eyes reflecting his deadpan expression.
The shrine maiden offered a rare, stunning smile.
"I know."
With those two words, she raised her free right hand.
Pure spiritual power erupted from her fingertips. Brilliant white threads of light shot outward, weaving together at blinding speed to form a dense, glowing dome that enclosed them within a three-zhang radius.
A Barrier.
It wasn't designed to block physical attacks. It wasn't meant to seal a demon. It certainly wasn't meant for purification.
It was a concealment Barrier.
From the outside, the dome looked like an impenetrable wall of swirling white mist. Nothing could be seen. Nothing could be heard.
Yoshimoto: "..."
The young Daimyo stood ten paces away, staring blankly at the massive sphere of fog that had just materialized in her courtyard.
From deep within the mist, the extremely faint, muffled sound of fabric rustling reached her ears. Then, a low, husky laugh, quickly swallowed by a gasp.
It was Hikaru's laugh.
He was no longer holding back.
A heavy thud echoed as something—or someone—was pressed forcefully against the ruined stone wall. Then, absolute silence.
Yoshimoto didn't need a vivid imagination to deduce what was happening inside.
Her face flushed a violent, atomic red, rapidly drained to a sickly pale, and then surged back to crimson.
She opened her mouth to yell, to demand they stop, but the words died in her throat. No one was paying attention to her anyway.
The white mist remained perfectly still.
Yoshimoto stood completely paralyzed, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her hands gripped the ruined fabric of her kimono so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Her face felt like it was submerged in boiling water.
As the absolute ruler of three provinces, the most feared Daimyo of the Tokaido, her pride was currently being dragged through the mud and stomped on.
She—just moments ago—had kissed that infuriating man!
Even if it was an accident!
She had still kissed him!
And then he had the audacity to stand right in front of her and declare that he liked her! She heard it with her own two ears!
He said he wouldn't abandon anyone! Did that not include her?!
Yet, the very next second, another woman struts up, wipes his mouth like he's a dirty child, kisses him senseless, and throws up a magical wall to lock her out?!
What happened to not abandoning anyone?!
Was she literally being cast aside in the dirt while they went at it?!
Yoshimoto stood amidst the rubble, her hair a tangled mess, her clothes ruined, her chest heaving with a chaotic mix of fury and deep embarrassment.
Her bright eyes glared daggers at the white mist. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her chin jutting out in defiance.
It was all Taigen Sessai's fault for setting this up.
It was that stupid White Elephant's fault for throwing her.
She clearly hadn't wanted this... although, if she were being honest, she didn't hate it. Wait, no, was she actually happy about it?
The phantom sensation of his cold lips, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of Yao Qi, still burned against her mouth. It was real.
And he had said he liked her.
He really said it.
"He said he wouldn't abandon..." Yoshimoto muttered, her voice so small the wind instantly snatched it away.
"Then why cast me aside out here!?"
Inside the white mist, the silence broke. A soft, breathless murmur slipped through the barrier. The words were indistinguishable, but the tone... the tone was unmistakably Kikyo's.
The tips of Yoshimoto's ears practically caught fire.
She spun around furiously, presenting her back to the mist, her arms still crossed, her posture rigid with wounded pride.
Three seconds passed.
She slowly, secretly, turned her head to peek over her shoulder.
The white mist was still just white mist.
But the surface of the barrier suddenly rippled violently, like a heavy stone plunging into a deep, still pool, sending chaotic waves and white foam surging outward.
"...Bastard," the young Daimyo hissed through gritted teeth.
Her voice was dripping with annoyance, shame, and bitter unwillingness—but buried beneath it all was a tiny, fragile spark of expectation she hadn't quite realized yet.
It wasn't her turn today.
But... she could still look forward to the future, right?
Look forward to the living, breathing Kobe Hikaru.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]