A dark shadow swiftly darted across the land, like a fleeting afterimage, flashing by in an instant.
Feng Lin, with the demon-sealing gourd tucked at his waist, raced toward the Eight-Forked Abyss.
That was the lair of the Yamata no Orochi marked on the map, and the rendezvous point the Eastern瀛 people had agreed upon earlier.
To gain the recognition of the Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi, they had to follow Susanoo’s path—either subdue or slay the eight-headed serpent.
Feng Lin was quite intrigued by that demonic sword as well.
The second round of the Universal University enrollment exams was imminent, and every bit of strength gained was precious. If he could break through his life’s limits, his power might undergo a qualitative leap, bringing endless benefits and greatly enhancing his means.
Crossing mountains and rivers, Feng Lin moved swiftly. Before long, he spotted a massive abyss nestled among a chain of mountains. Its waters were still, utterly motionless, silent and dead.
The water was pitch-black, devoid of any light, like a gaping,狰狞 maw on the earth’s surface, devouring everything in its path. No creature dared approach; once fallen in, one would plummet into an endless abyss, never to return to the mortal world, exuding a thick, eerie aura.
Feng Lin wisely kept his distance, hiding far away to cultivate in seclusion.
The Eastern瀛 people hadn’t arrived yet, clearly not as quick as Feng Lin. Subduing the Shuten-dōji and the Nine-Tailed Fox would still take some time.
Feng Lin wasted no time, tirelessly training. He took out a demon core he’d obtained earlier and swallowed it, immersing himself in cultivation.
The demon core was tasteless, but it was better than nothing.
Gene potential +22%, +22%, +22%...
Whoosh!
Mid-cultivation, Feng Lin jolted awake. The endless abyss split open, and a massive whirlpool churned on the water’s surface. An eight-headed, eight-tailed monster crawled out—eight enormous serpent heads, fierce and vicious, a belly like a giant turtle covered in scales. The eight heads’ eyes rolled around, cold and cruel, as demonic energy surged skyward, even warping the void into a dark cloud.
The Yamata no Orochi slowly emerged from the water, slithering swiftly into the distance. Wherever it passed, all life perished, vitality drained away, leaving behind a withered, desolate scene.
This was the true Yamata no Orochi of Eastern瀛 myth, not the inferior imitation Feng Lin had encountered before.
As it slithered, it stirred up gusts of腥风 and dark clouds, its dense demonic aura spreading out, instilling fear in all who beheld it.
This oppressive force weighed on Feng Lin’s heart like a boulder, filling him with immense gravity.
The Yamata no Orochi’s combat power was at least equivalent to a late-stage elite cultivator. He was no match for it in his current state.
The Eastern瀛 nation had endured for so many years—it truly had its foundations.
This demonic illusion was fraught with danger. Even if the Yamata no Orochi was merely a phantom formed from demonic essence, possessing just a fraction of its original power, it was still terrifying enough.
Feng Lin held his breath, suppressing his aura completely, drawing no attention from the serpent.
Only after the great snake had gone hunting, devouring countless demons and monsters, did it lazily crawl back into the abyss.
Feng Lin cautiously moved even farther away and resumed his cultivation.
This was the Yamata no Orochi’s territory. Aside from Feng Lin, no demon dared approach, allowing him to train in peace.
Three days passed quickly. He gained another free gene point and decisively added it to his mental gene, raising its strength from 6 to 7.
To prevent any sudden fluctuations in mental power from alerting the Yamata no Orochi, Feng Lin restrained his aura, lying low like the most seasoned hunter, waiting for his prey to take the bait.
After another two or three days, seven or eight Eastern瀛 people finally arrived, weary and bloodstained. Two had broken arms, crippled, and their numbers had dwindled.
Clearly, this demonic illusion was perilous; not everyone could come and go as freely as Feng Lin.
At that moment, the Eastern瀛 shrine maiden revealed her true face. Dressed in traditional Eastern瀛 kimono, her figure was alluring, yet her face bore a sacred, untouchable aura. The blend of the eerie and the holy created no conflict, instead exuding a strange, captivating charm.
The Eastern瀛 men were all dazzled by her, except for Fūma Tarō, whose eyes were filled with lecherous intent.
The shrine maiden, surrounded by wolves, remained unafraid. Her gaze swept the area as she spoke calmly, “The others haven’t arrived yet?”
“Hayata Ryōsuke, Sakai Katori, Fujiwara Masao, Yamamoto Ichirō… none of them came? These useless fools can’t even defeat demons! They’ve probably been eaten by now.” The leader, Fūma Tarō, sneered at the empty surroundings.
Feng Lin knew it was time to step in. He walked out, mimicking Yamamoto Ichirō’s voice, “Shrine maiden, Fūma-kun, I’ve been waiting for some time.”
“Yamamoto Ichirō, is that you?” Fūma Tarō looked utterly stunned. “How did a weakling like you not get eaten by demons?”
He didn’t take Feng Lin seriously, mocking him freely.
Feng Lin was taken aback, realizing that the original owner of this identity, Yamamoto Ichirō, seemed to be a pitiful figure, so despised by his companions.
But he wasn’t the original. Fūma Tarō’s taunts were like a breeze against his face, affecting him not at all.
In fact, the less presence Yamamoto Ichirō had, the better—it would make it easier to strike later. Unleashing his full strength and surprising these Eastern瀛 people would be excellent.
A cold smile curled beneath Feng Lin’s ninja mask.
“How long have you been here?” the shrine maiden suddenly asked.
“Three days?” Feng Lin answered truthfully. The traces he’d left nearby were hard to hide, and there was no need to lie about such trivial matters, lest it cause unnecessary complications and expose a flaw.
“You came this early—have you seen the Yamata no Orochi?” the shrine maiden pressed.
Feng Lin nodded. “I saw it once. The Yamata no Orochi is terrifyingly fierce; I didn’t dare get close!”
He trembled, feigning a frightened demeanor.
This fit perfectly with Yamamoto Ichirō’s image in their minds, and they nodded without much suspicion.
After all, this was an Eastern瀛 secret realm; they never imagined an outsider could enter.
Feng Lin, passing off the fake as real, successfully blended in with the Eastern瀛 group.
“Since we’ve confirmed the Yamata no Orochi is in this abyss, let’s prepare quickly!” the shrine maiden said solemnly. The Eastern瀛 people moved swiftly, eager to complete their mission.
The shrine maiden produced a dusty bag and tipped it over, spilling out eight large wine vats, each as tall as a person.
It was a remarkable spatial artifact.
The Eastern瀛 people carefully moved the eight vats to the edge of the abyss’s water, pried open the lids, and fled instantly, wanting to get as far away as possible.
A thick aroma of alcohol wafted out, spreading far and wide with intense potency. Just the smell made one feel tipsy; drinking it would be unimaginable—the alcohol content was extremely high.
Seeing this, Feng Lin revealed a knowing, cryptic smile.
So this was their plan.