Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 68 66: Miracle Muramasa

"Finally—we're here! Come to think of it, it's been ten years since I last left Tokyo."

Tsu City, Mie Prefecture.

After tidying himself up a bit and looking less disheveled, Kurosaki Chimei walked out of Tsu Station alone and stretched lazily in the afternoon sun.

He didn't know how many days he would stay here, because he had come in a hurry and had brought almost no luggage, except for his tattered little bag.

Since someone will reimburse him, he can just stay in a hotel.

Buy whatever you need, and then give the invoice to Ping Sheng Long.

"Master Richeng, we've troubled you to come here in person this time. We've tried everything, but it still didn't work."

"Namo Myoho Renge Kyo, it was my duty to come here. You should have informed Benmyoji Temple much earlier. Alas, let's go. I hope it's not too late."

Near the exit, two men exchanged a few words with a monk, then led him onto a car and hurriedly drove away.

"."

Kurosaki Chimei pretended to wait for a car, and only after the car drove away did he rub his chin, his eyes revealing a thoughtful expression.

The two men had radiating burn scars on their hands, thick calluses, and unusually large second joints on their index fingers. There was also a faint smell of pine resin.

Blacksmith? Hunter? Do these two professions still exist?

"By the way, this is Mie Prefecture, the birthplace of Muramasa swords. Are these two traditional sword makers?"

Traditional knife makers need to hammer the blade blank and expose it to high temperatures for a long time, and they also need to use pine resin to maintain the blade, all of which match the marks on the two people just now.

However, there are very few traditional sword makers in Japan now. Most of them are already quite old and mostly serve as mascots, telling stories for sword museums and sword-making sites.

It's so rare to see someone in their prime like this.

"When did swordsmiths get involved with Nichiren monks?"

Kurosaki's old habit of being curious resurfaced, and he was itching to get his hands on something, but he was still able to prioritize and didn't actually chase after them.

Suppressing my curiosity for the time being, I took a taxi to the hotel I had booked.

Ping Shenglong is probably still dealing with reporters and superiors and hasn't sent him any further information, so he needs to reorganize the previous materials himself and check if there are any details that have been missed.

Mie Prefecture has 14 cities and 15 towns, with a total population of over one million.

Trying to find something that happened nearly a hundred years ago among more than a million people is undoubtedly like finding a needle in a haystack.

But for Kurosaki, who dedicated his life to searching for ghost stories, it was a rare guiding light.

He wasn't afraid of trouble, he was afraid of having no hope.

He's been searching for so many years, exploring every ghost story in Tokyo, big and small. If it weren't for his parents' inheritance and insurance, he would have starved to death long ago.

"Let's start with our old profession and see if there are any strange tales in Mie Prefecture that fit the timeline."

Inside the hotel, Kurosaki pulled out his notebook, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, and began the first step, following the train of thought he had previously organized.

Sunset, in a desolate wilderness.

"This is the place. According to our ancestors' records, this is the location that Master Facheng chose for us. It draws in clear water, gathers righteous energy, and suppresses the power of evil spirits."

The middle-aged man pointed to a dilapidated-looking hut in the woods and said, “Our direct descendants have been worshipping Myōhō Muramasa for years, and we’ve been using the methods of Hōshō-sei to deceive the public. From the fifth generation to the eighth, we’ve lived in seclusion without any incidents.”

"But not long ago, my daughter was chosen by the Myōhō Muramasa and became the ninth Muramasa!"

“I tried to continue deceiving Myōhō Muramasa using the methods of my ancestors, but... but the situation is completely different from what my ancestors recorded, and my daughter’s condition has become even more serious!”

"I could only barely suppress it by following the last method left behind by Master Facheng: sacrificing blood to the demon blade..."

Ri Cheng shook his head, clasped his hands, and sighed: "Namo Myoho Renge Kyo, feeding a sword with blood and drinking poison to quench thirst, the demon sword that Senji Muramasa raised for his own selfish desires has finally reached the point of devouring its master."

The middle-aged man arranged for his cousin to wait outside the door, and then he brought Richeng into the house.

The interior was very simple, with no furniture at all, and only a blocked well opening.

The man activated the mechanism and then moved the obstruction at the wellhead, revealing a hidden world inside.

Ri Cheng's expression was solemn. He touched a trace of red water stain stuck to the edge of the well and rubbed it between his fingertips.

"The legendary evil energy materializing? How is that possible?"

He murmured something, making sure the man didn't hear, and followed him inside with a serious expression.

"Taki, Taki? How are you? Are you feeling any better?"

Inside the well was a small, damp room with a water channel running through it.

In the middle of the ditch, there was a larger hole, and several thick iron chains extended from the earthen wall, binding a knife that looked very old.

Muramasa, the magic sword of the demon sword.

"dad."

The girl knelt on the futon, with long, jet-black hair, a delicate face, and a pale complexion like snow. She wore a dark blue modified kimono.

"This is the high monk of Honmyoji Temple, Nichijo. Monk, she is my daughter, Muramasa Taki, who was chosen by Lord Myōhō Muramasa as the ninth Muramasa."

Seeing his daughter's pale face, the man felt both heartache and helplessness. He could only quickly introduce Richeng and then look at the latter with pleading eyes, hoping that he could find a solution.

Richeng didn't look at him, but stared intently at the locked knife, his forehead covered in cold sweat, and his breathing gradually became rapid.

“The situation is more serious than I imagined.” Ri Cheng slowly exhaled and looked at the two of them seriously. “If we are not careful, we may repeat the mistakes of the third and fourth Muramasa.”

Upon hearing this, the man's face turned extremely terrified, his legs went weak, and he couldn't help but kneel down in front of Ri Cheng, grabbing his sleeve.

"Master, Master, you must save Taki! I'm willing to pay any price!"

"dad."

Muramasa Taki grabbed the man's sleeve, and Asahishō revealed a calm smile: "Master Asahishō, I am not afraid of death, but please do not let the demon sword be born, otherwise the sins of my Muramasa family will never be repaid for eternity. For this, I am willing to cooperate in doing anything."

Nichijo stared at Muramasa Takii's eyes, which seemed to have seen through life and death, his expression shifted slightly, and he slowly sighed.

"Namo Myoho Renge Kyo. Your current situation is far beyond my capabilities. There are no longer any extraordinary beings in this world, not even my master."

Ri Cheng clasped his hands together, his tone extremely solemn: "The seal here has been completely corroded by demonic energy and is about to collapse. Our only chance now is to bring Myoho Muramasa with us."

"Come with me back to Honmyoji Temple."

(End of this chapter)