Chapter 77: The Onslaught of the Evil Spirit

“Slaying both gods and demons, the finest swordsmanship under heaven—Oboro-ryu!”
The girl answered Zhou Yan instinctively, then paused, startled by her own words. “I… I don’t even know how I know the name of this style. Could it be related to the life I’ve forgotten before I lost my memory?”
“The finest under heaven?” Zhou Yan raised an eyebrow.
From its stances and movements, this Oboro-ryu didn’t seem more sophisticated than the Nanjing Sword. What justified the claim that it could cut down gods and demons?
If such a sword school could be called the world’s best, then perhaps the limits of martial skill in this world weren’t very high.
“Do those two elders know you can use this sword art?” Zhou Yan asked, curious.
The girl shook her head silently. “I… I’m just a woman, and yet I have such skills—I was afraid it would worry them.”
She raised the sword in her hand. “Even this blade was handed down from my father’s ancestors. I only borrowed it in secret. But I have a feeling—the sword that can truly unleash Oboro-ryu’s power isn’t an ordinary blade like this.”
Then she looked at Zhou Yan. “Lord Yan, may I ask you for a favor?”
“Speak freely,” Zhou Yan nodded.
“If, on your journey to Musashi Province, you have the chance, could you help me inquire about Oboro-ryu? If… if it’s truly an unparalleled sword style, it should be famous, right?”
Hope glimmered in the girl’s eyes. “If you hear anything, could you send me a letter? Perhaps I might find clues about my own past from this sword school…”
“Of course. I promise you this,” Zhou Yan agreed, repaying the girl’s kindness in taking him in.
“Thank you so much!” Oboro nodded at him joyfully.
After a few more words, the girl’s cheeks flushed lightly as she bid him goodnight and quietly returned to her room to rest.
Zhou Yan sat on the edge of the veranda, lifting his gaze to the crescent moon above.
“Oboro-ryu… a sword style that needs a special blade to reveal its power…”
*
The next day.
Zhou Yan opened his eyes and got up, finding the house empty.
He stepped out into the yard to fetch water for washing, only to see the girl, Oboro, hanging clothes to dry.
She heard movement behind her, turned, and with a gentle, slightly shy air said, “Father and mother went to the teahouse. They told me to wait here for Lord Yan.”
“Please wait just a moment.” With that, the girl hurried back into the house.
Zhou Yan didn’t mind, and quickly fetched water for a simple wash.
And what about a toothbrush, you ask?
Clearly, ancient Japan had no such thing.

Moreover, this place didn’t quite seem like ancient Japan on Earth.
Back on Earth, he’d heard that the Japanese in olden times used charcoal for cleaning their teeth, and for quite a long period there was a trend of ‘black teeth’ as a sign of dental care.
The image alone was striking.
Fortunately, the girl he spoke with had clear, lovely features and white teeth, like an animated heroine—quite pleasing to the eye.
Soon, the girl emerged from the house, holding a bundle, which she handed to Zhou Yan. “Lord Yan, this bundle has a set of clean clothes and about two days’ worth of dried rations. We… we don’t have much more to offer, as our family is rather poor…”
“This is more than enough. Thank you very much.” Zhou Yan accepted the bundle, expressing his gratitude sincerely.
In ancient times, productivity was low, and it was all most people could do to feed themselves. Such generosity was already remarkable.
“Oh, and this as well.” Remembering something, the girl walked to a side room and soon returned with a sword in its sheath. “The road ahead is full of dangers. My father said you should take this sword for protection.”
It was the same katana the girl had used the previous night during her sword-dance.
Zhou Yan smiled as he took the blade. “Oboro, your swordsmanship is impressive. I think this sword would serve you much better than me.”
“No…” Oboro lowered her gaze. “I’ve already decided to stay in this village and care for my parents. I doubt I’ll ever have use for a blade again.”
Zhou Yan shook his head. “You don’t understand. To have a sword and not need it, or to need one and have none—when the moment comes, the difference is everything.”
With those words, he pressed the sword back into the girl’s hands, picked up his bundle, and turned to leave the yard.
“Lord Yan, are you setting out now?” Oboro looked at him with a gaze full of longing, yet tinged with clear hesitation.
“Yes.” Zhou Yan nodded with a smile. “But the teahouse isn’t far from the village. I’d like to say farewell to your father and mother.”
The girl thought for a moment, then picked up the sword and followed him. “That’s fine. I have to go to the teahouse anyway, so I’ll walk with you.”
On the road, Oboro kept her silence, her mind clearly troubled.
Soon, the two left the village behind, and in the distance, a few hundred meters away at the edge of the woods, the teahouse came into view.
Zhou Yan lifted his eyes, and suddenly his whole body tensed.
His expression grew grim.
“Lord Yan, what’s wrong?” Oboro, following just a step behind, nearly bumped into Zhou Yan as he stopped. She looked up at him, puzzled.
“Oboro…”
Zhou Yan opened his mouth, his voice hoarse.
“That… what is that?”
He spoke in a low voice, pointing toward the teahouse.
“What do you mean?” Oboro leaned around from behind him to look in the direction he indicated.

The next instant, a piercing scream tore from her lips. She darted forward, faster than the eye could follow, sprinting straight toward the teahouse.
Zhou Yan was no slower, striding after her in silence.
The girl, driven by terror and shock, didn’t notice how quickly the man behind her moved—just as Zhou Yan himself was astonished that a seemingly delicate girl could run at nearly Bolt’s speed.
Oboro gritted her teeth and dashed on, reaching the small wooden building in less than a minute.
In a flash, she kicked off the ground and leaped.
Left hand gripping the scabbard, right hand on the hilt.
Sword drawn!
A flash of steel, slashing with full force!
At the same time, her shrill voice rang out, “Monster! Where are my parents—?”
Clang!
The sharp blade was easily blocked by a massive, spiked club.
Behind the club, nearly as long as a person is tall, stood a gigantic red-skinned humanoid. Two horns jutted from its brow, its monstrous face smeared with gruesome bloodstains—especially around its gaping maw, where two jagged fangs curled outward, still flecked with bits of flesh.
It was precisely the “Red Ogre” the old man had described the previous night!
“Ah, such tender, pretty human women!” The ogre ignored her cries and simply spoke with a hideous grin. “My favorite!”
As it spoke, it lunged with its left hand, swiping at Oboro.
Instantly, she let out a sharp breath, nimbly sprang back, and with a swift upward stroke of her blade—
Swish!
Three thick, red fingers flew through the air.
“Raaaargh!” The ogre howled, lifting its left hand.
Oboro, without pausing, drove forward again, circling the ogre’s towering form with the ferocity of a true swordswoman. Her blade carved a deep wound into its flank as she passed.
A torrent of blood gushed out, splattering the girl’s fierce face, making her look as savage as the monster itself.
“Where are my parents!”
*