Crossover: A Different Inuyasha

The moment she noticed the door being pushed open, she looked up. Although her face was devoid of features, the way she turned her head and the pause in her movement were enough to convey her surprise and respect.

She put down her work, stood up, clasped her hands in front of her, and bowed to Inuyasha, inadvertently revealing her great love.

Inuyasha waved his hand and casually sat down on a low, soft cushion.

He reached into the small basket beside him and pulled out a rag doll—the doll was only about the size of his palm, not particularly well-sewn, but it had a kind of clumsy cuteness.

He pinched the crooked ear of the rag doll with his fingertips, turned it gently, and smiled as his gaze fell on the crooked smiling face.

Wu Nu walked over, knelt down behind him, and used her warm hands to support the back of his head, guiding his head towards her knees.

Inuyasha did not resist, leaning back as he enjoyed the lap pillow.

"Lord Inuyasha."

The woman's voice came from above, soft as cotton, full of maternal warmth.

"Do you need me to transform?"

"……Um."

Inuyasha responded.

The woman lowered her head.

On that face, as smooth as a sheet of paper, the outline slowly emerged from the depths—delicate eyebrows, warm eyes, a pretty nose, and cherry lips.

Izayoi's face was thus fully revealed, exuding gentleness and nobility.

People are ultimately bound by what they cannot obtain in their youth. Inuyasha could only experience selfless love with Mujou.

Whether it's true or false is no longer important at this point.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying the world of illusion.

Inuyasha lazily said, feeling the gentle pressure of fingertips on his forehead.

"After praying for rain today, the villagers are now convinced that Feng can invoke the gods."

“At night, you arrange for the women to perform illusions so that everyone in Shanjianjing—regardless of age or gender—will hear a sentence falling from the sky.”

“Just say that the priestess Feng is a harvest goddess who descended to earth and is in charge of wind, rain and thunder. She should establish a sacred place on earth and be worshipped with incense.”

The future is uncertain, but in this wave, Inuyasha should prepare to become a god.

The woman looked down at him, and a gentle smile appeared on Izayoi's face.

She didn't care about anything else as long as it didn't involve the children's lives.

"Yes, sir Inuyasha."

That night, the lights in Zenkenkyo went out one by one, the moonlight was obscured by the clouds, and a deep, quiet blue enveloped everything.

People drift off to sleep, only to find themselves standing above a sea of ​​clouds in a daze.

Beneath my feet lies a palace paved with white jade, with countless tassel-like strands of light hanging from the eaves, illuminating the entire sky as clear as day.

Deep within the palace, a figure sat serenely in a halo of light, his face shrouded in a soft glow, indistinct yet inspiring an unspoken sense of trust and closeness.

When they awoke at dawn, they all went to the shrine maiden's place without prior arrangement.

Chapter 64 Four Years Later

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 quite nervous, as if she had been 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~"

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

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

In front of the dressing table inside the room, the gleaming mirror reflects 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 giving people 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 war…and monsters are involved in the battle!”

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 everywhere in 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, throwing both demon hunters away. 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 righteousness to punish the guilty and punish the innocent, they continuously carried out decapitation tactics with blitzkrieg.

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 obeyed, 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 of these wild "spicy snacks"?

However, faced with 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 but 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—"

"what--!"

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—our 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.