Chapter One Hundred: Those Met in the Night Will Ultimately Return to the Night

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Zhao Tianxing drew out his jet-black katana, and the blood at the cut bloomed like a delicate rose.

Ibaraki-Douji’s eyes widened in disbelief. It could not accept that it would die at the hands of a mere human. It stretched out its claw-like blades to clutch its own throat, but the crimson liquid mercilessly slipped through the gaps.

Zhao Tianxing flicked the blade; the dried blood on it resembled a cloth draped over the sword. With his left hand bent at the elbow gripping the blade, he wiped forcefully, restoring the dark red Tang-style katana to its original appearance.

Not only had the demon Ibaraki-Douji bled on this blade today, but countless other yōkai had also tasted its edge: twin black cats, the Nure-onna with a woman’s face and serpent’s body—monsters from ancient myths seemed to have held a gathering here, and Zhao Tianxing was the unwelcome intruder.

Originally, he intended to bypass these creatures and directly investigate the source of the mystical energy. Yet, how could these yōkai, forced into silence for years, miss such an opportunistic moment?

They had arrived here due to the fluctuations in mystical energy, but the panicked humans inadvertently stirred their hunger. Watching these delectable humans scatter like desserts under the typhoon warning, the yōkai naturally relished a hands-on buffet.

Ten minutes earlier, after witnessing a ubume swoop down under neon lights to snatch a small boy from his parents’ side, Zhao Tianxing didn’t even consider the consequences. He drew his blade, leaped with agility, weaving and darting like a nocturnal creature of the steel jungle. The ubume never had a chance to savor its dinner on a billboard before he cleaved it neatly in two.

Returning the boy to his collapsed parents, Zhao Tianxing barely turned before sensing the watchful eyes lurking in the darkness.

The street was short and unremarkable—so brief it lacked even a formal name beyond its road number. Yet, Zhao Tianxing took the time it took a blade’s swing to reach the next intersection.

This katana, modeled after the famed “Five Swords Under Heaven”—specifically the Mikazuki Munechika from the Rokugaku Academy—featured a grain pattern of Itame-hada, with a dense Nie pattern and layered Hamon that formed half-moon shapes along the edge. Measuring 80 cm in length with a curvature of 2.7 cm and a width of 2.9 cm, it was a masterpiece of swordsmithing.

Regrettably, after drinking the blood of yōkai across the street, it did not grow sharper or gain fame like the legendary blades. Instead, after slicing through Ibaraki-Douji’s eerie blue-green throat, the Mikazuki Munechika replica met its quiet demise.

Zhao Tianxing stepped forward to the designated spot, his black Martin boots crushing pools of congealed blood. Though unarmed, no other yōkai dared to meet the gaze of this stoic youth.

At the Asian headquarters of the SCP Foundation, Duanmu Zhe watched the frozen image on the projection, finally relaxing his furrowed brow.

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