Chapter Sixty-three: Strategic Withdrawal

Inside the Six Doors headquarters, the large office buzzed with the constant clatter of keyboards. Overseeing the internet activities of a city like Shanghai, with its tens of millions of inhabitants, was no easy feat. At the very least, each clerk’s desk sported two cans of Red Bull, and their fingers hammered the keyboards as if sparks might fly. An endless torrent of information surged into their computers from every corner of the city, an invisible river relentlessly washing over their nerves.

The data was rapidly sifted, useful intelligence separated from the useless. However, at this moment, the pile of trivialities towered high, while truly valuable information was pitifully scarce.

The Chief Constable sat to the side of the vast office, observing his subordinates’ frantic work. Outwardly composed, inwardly his heart was lodged in his throat. The lives of tens of millions rested on his shoulders—a pressure no outsider could comprehend. His fingers drummed unconsciously on the arm of his chair.

Suddenly, a clerk in the third row stood up and called out, “Chief, someone’s reported flames shooting into the sky at Skycloud Sect!”

“We’re looking for Yamata-no-Orochi!” the Chief reminded himself, clenching his fist. No matter how foolish these people might seem, they were steadfast at their posts. Even if their work bore no glory, it was not without hardship; he could not scold them carelessly. With a muffled tone, he said, “The Skycloud disciples are probably just sparring. It’s not our concern.”

“Chief, I’ll go check,” Bao Long interjected, sensing something was off. The Skycloud Sect’s leader should have been at the Central Spirit Library. Was there any reason for the disciples to be dueling at this hour? He felt compelled to take a look, just in case something happened while Bai Yujing was absent.

The Chief found Bao Long’s eagerness strange but nodded. “Go ahead.”

With a single step, Bao Long vanished from the Six Doors office. The cityscape blurred past his eyes—tall buildings, streets, crowds—all melting into streaks of color. In an instant, he was scaling the steps of the Skycloud Sect.

On either side, endless cherry blossoms flourished in the autumn sun, pink petals swaying in the breeze like ripples on the sea, beautiful enough to steal one’s breath away. It was a sight Bao Long had not seen on his last visit. But he was in no mood to admire it now.

Passing beneath the archway, he immediately sensed a powerful, icy, and sinister spiritual pressure—a chill that swept over his entire body in an instant. The disciples of the Skycloud Sect were in danger!

Without hesitation, Bao Long darted up the steps like lightning, leaving cherry blossoms, phoenix trees, osmanthus, and plum flowers all behind him. The next second, he was standing at the edge of the stone plaza.

The scene before him made him freeze in astonishment.

Cracks splintered across the plaza floor, yet they were slowly mending themselves, visible even to the naked eye. In the center, a gigantic serpent’s head hung motionless in midair, as if time itself had stopped. Then, suddenly, the head began to fall—but underwent a bizarre transformation before touching the ground. Some parts decayed rapidly, while others became fresh and tender, as if time’s flow had been utterly disrupted. Before the head even landed, it quietly disintegrated, dissolving into countless fragments and vanishing into the air. Only a lingering chill marked where the spiritual pressure remained, an invisible brand recounting the fierce battle that had just taken place.

Bao Long was stunned. After two seconds’ pause, he rubbed his eyes and asked, “Master Bai, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t that serpent’s head from Yamata-no-Orochi?”

Bai Yujing turned to him. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the Central Spirit Library the whole time—I can go there at any moment.”

“That’s not important,” Bao Long waved it off, not wanting to ask why Bai Yujing wasn’t at his post. “Was that serpent’s head really Yamata-no-Orochi?”

“That’s right. Do you know him?” Bai Yujing’s tone remained serene, but Bao Long grew anxious. He hadn’t been a hasty man before, but today’s events shocked and confused him.

“Why did Yamata-no-Orochi appear here?” Bao Long pressed.

Finding the explanation troublesome, Bai Yujing called out, “Shuangling, explain it to him.”

Liu Shuangling leaped lightly from the dining hall’s roof, landing nearby. “Inspector Bao, just as I lit up my phone’s screen, Yamata-no-Orochi used Aoi Andon’s power to crawl out of it. He tried to recruit me as his subordinate, was spotted by the sect master, a fight broke out, and Yamata-no-Orochi was killed. That’s all there is to it.”

Bao Long’s expression grew complicated. Yamata-no-Orochi was no minor demon, but an internationally notorious monster. The fact that Bai Yujing could kill him so easily made Bao Long reconsider the man’s strength.

Wait… Bao Long recalled another detail. “He crawled out of your phone?”

Liu Shuangling corrected him: “Strictly speaking, he only came out once the screen was lit.”

“Master Bai, I’ll report your achievement in slaying Yamata-no-Orochi to the higher-ups. I have work to do.” Bao Long, true to his title of ‘Divine Inspector,’ quickly composed himself and refocused on his duties. With a single step, he returned to the Six Doors office.

Inside, the rhythmic clatter of keyboards continued as clerks processed the endless tide of data. Bao Long approached the Chief and said gravely, “Chief, Yamata-no-Orochi is dead—slain by Master Bai. The remaining monsters, such as Aoi Andon, are likely hiding in a strange space that uses light as an entrance and exit. In other words, anything illuminated could become their gateway. We must urgently inspect every source of light in the city.”

The Chief’s usually unflappable demeanor faltered. “You’re saying Yamata-no-Orochi is dead?” he blurted, then rallied himself. “Do as you say—immediately.”

Between clarifying the truth and intensifying the search for the enemy, the Chief chose the latter.

He trusted Bao Long would never speak irresponsibly. If he said Yamata-no-Orochi was dead, then so it must be. But who exactly was Master Bai…?

…

On the glittering sea, sunlight danced like fragments of gold atop the waves. A massive cargo ship plowed forward. In the captain’s quarters, sunlight spilled through the porthole, casting a warm glow across the desk. The computer screen was still lit, displaying an unfinished diary entry the captain had been writing.

Suddenly, the screen flickered, then was overrun by a dense blackness. Five figures emerged from the monitor.

One, a female demon, was dressed in a resplendent kimono. Her traditional coiffure of jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, her fair chest exposed to the cool air. Wearing wooden clogs, her beautiful face was shadowed with deep sorrow. “So, Yamata-no-Orochi actually died at the Skycloud Sect. It seems Shanghai really is a land of hidden dragons and crouching tigers.”

“Why do we have to retreat just because that guy died?” Shuten Doji grumbled in discontent.

Aoi Andon sighed. “Without Yamata-no-Orochi, we can’t coordinate with the International Development Agency. Only he knew who their members were in Shanghai. Besides, Yamata-no-Orochi has more than one life—anyone who can defeat him repeatedly is not to be underestimated. For now, we must withdraw. As for liberating the Chinese monsters, we’ll have to discuss the matter at length with Lord Seimei. Next time, we must include the Skycloud Sect in our plans.”

“Tch, what a hassle.” Shuten Doji muttered, spun around, and smashed straight through the captain’s window. Shards of glass flew everywhere as his figure shot off into the distance, disappearing into the autumn sunlight.

The other three great demons did not linger, each blasting through a wall, leaving gaping holes in the captain’s quarters. Sea wind gusted through the openings, scattering the papers on the desk.

Aoi Andon, watching their crude methods, sighed. “What a bunch of brutes—why can’t they just use the door?” She turned, opened the captain’s door, and stepped out.

On the deck, crew members and the ship’s spiritual defenders, already alerted, had gathered together, watching her warily. Aoi Andon bowed, smiling gently. “I apologize for the disturbance. I’ll be leaving now.” With that, she launched herself off the deck like a phantom, vanishing into thin air and leaving only a faint fragrance behind.

The captain wiped the cold sweat from his brow, his heart nearly stopping in terror. Thankfully, these beings understood the rules of international conduct and didn’t attack the outbound cargo ship. His diary, meant for his future son, would now need to include yet another harrowing episode. The shining image of ‘dad’ would only grow more heroic in its pages.