Crossover: A Different Inuyasha.

The next morning, the rain from the night before had washed Zenkenkyo clean.

The air still carried the scent of damp earth, and the puddles on the ridges shimmered in the morning sun. The rice stalks stood straight, and tiny water droplets clung to the leaves.

Last night, while lying in bed, Feng learned about the Inuyasha "god-making" plan, and at this moment she felt rather nervous, as if she was being forced into it.

"You didn't even discuss something this important with me beforehand... Hmm~"

The large hand behind her abruptly stopped the priestess's complaints, and Inuyasha's dog ears peeked out from behind her scarlet neck.

"No, the villagers are already at the door... There really isn't time... Ha~"

"Maple, everything about you, including your soul, belongs to me."

"Damn it, I won't give in!"

Before the dressing table in the room, the gleaming mirror reflected the beautiful shrine maiden, her thin lips slightly bitten, her eyes filled with tears and a heart-shaped expression.

The more noble and sacred something is, the more intoxicating its beauty becomes after it has fallen.

As dawn broke and the sun rose high in the sky, Feng, dressed neatly, pushed open the courtyard gate.

The path outside the courtyard was packed with people, stretching from the end of Shanjian Road all the way to the alley entrance, all standing quietly.

When Feng's figure appeared in the doorway, a low, barely suppressed commotion arose in the crowd, like the wind sweeping through waves of wheat.

The person in the front row spontaneously knelt down first, his forehead pressed against the still-chilling dirt. Then came the second, the third, one after another prostrating themselves on the ground.

Feng stood on the stone steps in front of the door.

Sunlight fell on her shoulders, gilding her silhouette with a thin layer of gold.

Her beautiful face was like freshly melted snow, carrying the solemnity and serenity befitting a shrine maiden.

Her rosy eyebrows and eyes exuded a bright and gentle warmth, as if bathed in sunlight.

Feng looked down at the kneeling figures and took a step forward.

This step, with faith as a support and life filled with more hope, is the four-year-long, non-stop large-scale infrastructure construction in Shanjianjing.

....................................

As the sun sets, the sky over Musashi Province is burned into a murky reddish-gold.

As dusk spreads across the edge of the Guandong Plain, it shrouds the mountains, cities, and fields stretching for over six thousand miles in a heavy, dark red hue.

This fertile land will later give birth to Tokyo, Saitama Prefecture, and northeastern Kanagawa Prefecture.

In the land ruled by dozens of daimyo, governors, and local powerful clans during the Warring States period, more than ten people died every year under the banner of righteousness raised by the Nine-Nine Toad.

Now, the last daimyo stands under the eaves at the highest point of the castle tower, watching the smoke of war rising one after another on the horizon.

The flames of war started in the east and then spread south and west, like a string of lit gunpowder fuses, scalding Daming Prefecture with one glaring wound after another in the twilight.

Every plume of black smoke told him the same thing—the defensive line was being torn apart, and the enemy had penetrated deep into enemy territory.

Uesugi gripped the railing, his expression shifting in the flickering firelight—first disbelief, then profound despair, and finally twisted hatred.

"...Damn it." His voice was hoarse and heavy. "Human warfare...and monsters are getting involved!"

The shouts of battle and the crisp sounds of clashing weapons emanating from below the city walls surged up in waves.

He saw flames rising from all parts of the mansion—the storerooms, the stables, the side halls—the family's century-old legacy was turning to ashes piece by piece.

What horrified him even more were the figures locked in combat in the courtyard.

Several Onmyoji dressed in hunting robes were forming a battle array with their backs against the pillars of the corridor. The talismans in their hands ignited with blue-green flames in the twilight and were shot at the monsters rushing towards them.

The monsters had different shapes and sizes.

Some had heads like eagles, some crawled on all fours like beasts, and some were covered in scales, seemingly impervious to the bombardment of talismans as they marched forward.

The Onmyoji's lines are shrinking.

Each retreat leaves behind the corpse of a companion or shikigami.

On the other side of the courtyard, several exorcists were wielding chains and scythes, trying to entangle a mountain demon of exceptionally large size.

The iron chain wrapped around the mountain demon's ankle, but it suddenly yanked it, sending the two demon hunters flying. They crashed heavily into the corridor pillars, dying a gruesome death.

The monks chanted scriptures urgently, and golden light condensed in their palms into the shape of short staffs, which they threw at the demon horde—but there were too many demons, and they surged in like a dark mass.

A young monk was knocked to the ground, his prayer beads scattered all over the floor.

Before he could struggle, he was dragged into the horde of demons, screaming in agony.

The samurai and retainers were even worse.

Uesugi watched all of this unfold, his fingers gripping the railing so tightly they almost dug into the wood grain, his heart consumed by regret.

Over the past few years, he was well aware that a force renamed "Eastern Country" had suddenly emerged in the heart of Musashi Province.

Holding high the banner of righteous indignation and punishing the guilty, they continuously employed blitzkrieg tactics to carry out decapitation strikes.

Among them is the rumored secret army that the other side is so proud of, which is the monster army!

This has drawn ridicule from many people.

Monsters are mindless creatures, how could they possibly obey human commands?

Even if they obey, how could they be so obedient and not cause trouble in the Eastern Kingdom?

It should be noted that the Eastern Kingdom is constantly building infrastructure and reclaiming wasteland.

There are people everywhere in the wilderness. How can monsters resist taking a bite when faced with these wild "spicy snacks"?

However, after the destruction of one daimyo after another, and even the Hojo clan was eventually defeated, the Uesugi clan began to seriously consider the "demon army" and made thorough preparations.

In retrospect, this "perfection" was nothing more than the arrogance of the nobility, a self-deception.

"My lord!" came the anxious cry from behind, "Please evacuate immediately! The gate is about to fall—"

"ah--!"

A short, piercing scream came from outside the door, as if something had forcefully choked it out of its throat.

Uesugi's shoulders jerked violently, and he froze on the spot as if he had been doused with ice water.

He turned around, his gaze falling on the wooden staircase leading to the top of the castle tower—a dark, gaping abyss that seemed to swallow everything.

Uesugi's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and a fine layer of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, his clenched fists loosening and then clenching again.

After a moment of panic, he calmed down—like an old beast cornered against a wall, finding its escape route cut off, it stopped struggling.

"I've lived for decades, enjoyed everything I could, and I have no regrets."

Uesugi's face held a calmness that seemed to have been etched with the marks of death.

"Fortunately, I had already sent my eldest son to Kyoto first. He brought with him the family crest, the register of hereditary retainers, and the network of connections and letters that my Uesugi clan had accumulated over generations."

He slightly raised his chin, his gaze passing over the surging flames below the city and looking towards the distant horizon swallowed by the time of the Demon King, as if giving a final account of the impending end.

"As long as he is still alive, as long as those families who have married into, allied with, and relied on the Uesugi clan still remember this bond of kinship—the Uesugi clan may one day rise again."

After saying this, Uesugi seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

The downfall of a great power is never a matter of a day or two.

The Uesugi clan had been in power for a century, with relatives and friends all over Kanto and Kansai, and students and old friends scattered in the magistrate's offices and castles of various domains.

Even if the main castle of Musashi Province falls, the roots everywhere will not wither immediately.

As long as the eldest son survives.

As long as he travels between Kyoto and the various domains with his family name and tokens, one day—perhaps ten years, perhaps twenty years—the banner of the Uesugi clan will be raised again.

As Uesugi thought this, he turned his back to the stairwell and gazed at the ever-burning smoke in the distance. The despair in his eyes was somewhat suppressed by this self-consolation, replaced by an almost stubborn obsession.

Then footsteps sounded behind him.

Someone is coming up the stairs. They are walking slowly and steadily, their wooden clogs making a rhythmic "tap, tap" sound on the steps.

Who could it be?

Uesugi turned around in confusion—

A young man was standing at the top of the stairs.

He was dressed neatly in a straight robe, with a short sword hanging at his waist. He had a handsome face and a youthful air that had not yet faded between his brows.

But that face bore a striking resemblance to Uesugi's—the same brow bone arch, the same jawline, and the same noble air.

Uesugi's eyes widened suddenly, and the composure that had just gathered deep in his pupils was shattered in that instant.

"...Why...?"

His voice was filled with an almost distorted disbelief, "You...you shouldn't have already—"

"Still on the way to Kyoto?"

The young man took over the conversation, speaking in a flat tone, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

He stepped onto the last step of the castle tower's top floor, stopping in the crimson glow of twilight. His right hand rested on the hilt of the short sword at his waist. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."

The young man raised his head and looked at his physics father, his eyes burning with passion.

He drew his dagger, the blade arcing a cold white in the twilight.

"—So noisy."

With a flick of his wrist, the young man's movements were swift and decisive. The blade of the short sword traced a very short arc, slicing across Uesugi's neck.

The sound of blood gushing out was very soft, like a bubble bursting in the wind.

It's like the faint hissing sound of a piece of silk being cut by a sharp blade.

Uesugi's head rolled twice, slammed against the railing, and then rolled onto the floor, stopping in a pool of dark red that was gradually expanding.

His wide-open eyes were still fixed on the direction where the young man stood—frozen with incomprehension, shock, and a bewilderment that he could not settle down until his death.

The young man discarded his dagger and gazed at the demon army belonging to Rashomon and Inuyasha, his eyes filled with cold light.

"Inuyasha, it's surprising that Kikyo didn't kill you twenty-five years ago."

A gust of demonic wind swept up, and the young man instantly transformed into a monster wearing a baboon skin.

His face was completely covered by a baboon skin hood, leaving only his eyes visible, which were deep and melancholic, like an unfathomable old well.

Naraku stared at the Uesugi clan's defenders, who were now routed and utterly annihilated, and sneered, "As expected, humans are utterly useless before demons."

Whether it's him or the Nine-Nine Toad, they can easily usurp noble status.

Without looking back, he leaped off the edge of the railing.

The edges of the baboon skin fluttered like wings in the wind. As it fell into the air, its body began to swell and deform—tearing and expanding outward from its human-shaped outline, transforming into a massive, tangled trunk made of countless twisting tree roots, tentacles, and vines.

Those roots were as thick as century-old logs, covered with a hard, grayish-brown outer layer that gleamed with a damp, dark light in the firelight.

They twisted, stretched, and gathered in the air, eventually forming dozens of sharp, spear-like tentacles that pierced straight towards the densest formation of the demon army below.

"Become my food!"

Tree roots and tendrils slashed down from the sky like countless dark lightning bolts, piercing the chests and heads of several monsters in the demon horde.

The moment the blood splattered, fine cracks suddenly appeared on the surface of those roots.

A thick, purplish-black miasma spewed out from it.

The miasma spread rapidly in the air, like a blob of ink blown away by the wind.

"Someone come here!"

"There's a tricky guy here!"

Wherever it passed, the monsters roared, then convulsed and collapsed, only to be swept up by the tentacles and swallowed.

Several humans who were nearby didn't even have time to utter a sound before they were reduced to stark white skeletons in the miasma.

A gaunt figure swept out of the castle tower, his gray hair dancing wildly in the night wind, his eyes glowing with a faint red light in the firelight.

The witch Rita emerged from the chaos below, a long scythe still stained with blood, and grinned menacingly at Naraku.

"That clueless little baboon."

She wielded her scythe, her figure moving as fast as a gray shadow, closing in on Naraku's massive root-like body in just a few breaths.

The sickle swept across, its blade slicing into the joint of a tree root tendril.

The tentacle was severed cleanly at the root, and a purplish-black liquid spurted from the cut, splashing onto the stone slab with a hissing, corrosive sound.

Naraku immediately retaliated.

After several exchanges, Rito's scythe was fast and cunning, forcing Naraku to use more tentacles for defense and counterattack.

Some daring demons began to take a roundabout approach, attempting to outflank Naraku from behind.

"Tsk, know when to stop."

Naraku lowered his eyes, his body suddenly contracted sharply, and all the outstretched tentacles retracted inwards.

At the same time, a large amount of purplish-black miasma, even denser than before, surged out from beneath him, like a burst of smoke bomb, instantly filling the space within dozens of feet around him.

Litao reacted extremely quickly, flying backward the instant the miasma erupted, and hiding outside the miasma's coverage area.

She landed on a broken pillar, gazing at the swirling, spreading purplish-black miasma.

Through the thick smoke, a humanoid silhouette could be seen rising into the air, transforming into a dark streak of light that sped towards the northern horizon, quickly disappearing into the gray line where twilight and night met.

Li Tao stood on the broken pillar, sickle in hand, watching the departing figure, grinning to reveal his yellowed teeth.

"...They run fast."

The miasma dispersed in the night wind, revealing the ground below, which was riddled with corrosion.

Several monsters that failed to escape in time have turned into skeletons, their empty eye sockets facing the darkening sky.

The flames in the distance were still burning; the last piece of Musashi's territory had been captured.