“Hmm, let me take a bold guess—maybe my family committed some major offense in the past, and the old man decided to deal with it directly, leaving only me behind?”
“That’s unlikely. While we don’t have something like a genealogy, some old dark histories and amusing anecdotes have been preserved. They show that everyone got along pretty well.”
Although the old man held a high status, it wasn’t as though the Gu family could have messed up so badly that it reached him. Besides, others like Brother Xiao, the Apothecary Master, and even Lord Zhongli, had interacted with the family many times.
“Tsk, what a hassle. Couldn’t our ancestors have just left behind some clear information? Even if the truth was a heavy burden, shouldn’t the descendants at least have the right to know?”
“There’s no way it’s something like ‘the world collapsed, and the Gu family, being noble and selfless, sacrificed their lives and power for Teyvat, reincarnating into another world as Valkyries,’ right?”
Gu Sanqiu shook his head. That idea was just too far-fetched. If someone discovered that their beloved Valkyrie was actually a bunch of cross-dressing men, the developers would probably get torn apart.
Uh, they wouldn’t rip me apart, would they?
Inside his body, the cauldron continued to burn with flames, radiating a fresh vitality that steadily enhanced Gu Sanqiu’s strength.
There was still no news of the duel before the throne. Gu Sanqiu speculated there would be a key event that would trigger the moment when his friend would storm Tenshukaku in a fit of rage.
If he made it in time, he planned to connect with the Wind-and-Thunder duo before the duel, which would make things more manageable.
If he didn’t, he’d need to prepare to charge into Tenshukaku alone, fighting his way through the Inazuman soldiers and bigshots to rescue his friend.
Not to mention, he might face that so-called “Shogun’s Strike” directly—a far greater risk.
Another issue was that his friend went in on his own. If Gu Sanqiu managed to rescue him, he’d also need to account for how long it would take Kazuha to arrive.
If he risked his life to save someone, only for Kazuha to show up mid-rescue, exhausted and unable to fight, then Kazuha would be the one in trouble.
This scenario? It’s the ultimate trade—a one-for-one at best. When that happens, the only one who could take the “Musou no Hitotachi” head-on would be his friend.
The ideal plan would be to make connections ahead of time, then find the right moment to storm the dungeon-like Tenshukaku together with Kazuha. Kazuha rescues the person, Gu Sanqiu plays his trump card and draws his blade, and then they all escape together.
That’s the perfect strategy.
Gu Sanqiu disliked flaws in his plans, and he disliked the idea of sacrificing one thing for another. He was greedy—he wanted it all.
This was why borrowing the reputation of “Ryukai Genzawa,” a formidable samurai returning from the wilds, to make a name for himself and expand his network was crucial.
During such a critical time, though this identity might subject him to repeated scrutiny, it was still the fastest way to gain influence.
Thus, when Tada Tomokichi, heir to the Shingoryu school, approached with his connections in high places, Gu Sanqiu didn’t dismiss him despite his lack of skill and determination. Instead, he saw an opportunity to build a relationship.
Allowing him to train at the dojo for three days was the first step in forging that connection. As long as Tada felt indebted to him, the goal was achieved.
High-quality connections meant smoother operations for himself, and he had plenty of resources to offer in exchange. Just a small leak of information could get many things done.
In the past, Gu Sanqiu wouldn’t have bothered with someone like Tada. Lax discipline wasn’t a huge problem, but it did reflect poorly on a leader’s competence.
Now, things were different. No matter how flawed Tada might be, Gu Sanqiu had no choice but to put on a mask and interact with him carefully.
As for the Kamisato family, Gu Sanqiu still had no plans to engage with them. Ryukai’s unique identity allowed him to gain their trust.
And him? What did he have?
As long as he couldn’t reveal his true identity, the so-called “Wilds Combat Leaderboard #1” was probably the best he could do. They’d be kind enough not to accuse him of being a spy.
Even though he had read The Essentials of Kamisato Swordsmanship and greatly admired their techniques, the version in the Tenryou Commission’s archives was likely watered down to align with the Shogunate’s policies.
If he could obtain a complete manual or records of his predecessors’ experiences, it might give him insight into the essence of that naginata technique.
Forget it, forget it. As tempting as it is, priorities come first.
Worst case, when the blond arrives and officially visits Inazuma as a friend, even if Gu Sanqiu can’t learn Kamisato swordsmanship, he could still use the storyline to study the Shogun’s true naginata technique.
The front of the maze was growing livelier. With Gu Sanqiu’s arrangements, Arataki Itto was handling matters earnestly—or rather, he had learned to think things through.
He placed his Redhorn Stone Thresher beside the boulder left by Gu Sanqiu, adding another layer of intimidation.
However, contrary to Gu Sanqiu’s expectations, no small-time thugs showed up to collect “protection fees.”
After all, they valued long-term survival. Knowing a big shot was visiting Ryukai’s dojo today, they’d be insane to show up now.
Even if they managed to collect the fees, angering an influential figure could land them on the front lines as cannon fodder.
Still, the visitors today had some genuine skill. Even without Gu Sanqiu’s guiding aura, the slowest of them navigated the maze in just twenty minutes.
One particularly odd case involved a pair from the same dojo. One of them had an epiphany while inside the maze, forcing Gu Sanqiu to ask Itto to handle some arrangements for them.
Since these people had managed to pass through the maze with respect, Gu Sanqiu had no qualms about returning the favor—it was just a matter of saying the right words.
But seriously, having an epiphany in a maze? What kind of overpowered template was that? Why didn’t he get such perks?
From the front yard, Arataki Itto and his companions could hear the anguished cries and excited shouts coming from the dojo in the back.
The three men and a ghost exchanged glances.
“Boss, should we go check it out?”
Itto waved his hand dismissively. “No need. Those screams aren’t from the boss, so it’s just those visitors getting beaten up. We’re staying put.”
“Don’t forget what Granny said. We’re here to work, but there are some things we’re better off not seeing. Watching might get us into unnecessary trouble, got it?”
“Boss has given us these conditions, so let’s not cause him any problems.”
Calmly, Itto sat down, resting his hand on his Redhorn Stone Thresher. To his companions, he appeared quite dignified.
In the past, this young oni’s simplicity and naivety often overshadowed his wisdom, but that didn’t mean he was foolish. Especially after Granny had given him a few things to keep in mind before this job.
“So this is what it feels like to interact with others properly.”
Itto closed his eyes. Today’s “work” was an entirely new experience for him, and understanding naturally bubbled up within him.
“Not bad at all.”
—
T/N: SMH, changed Longhai to Ryukai Genzawa, doesn’t make sense if he’s masquerading as a Inazuman with a Liyuen name
changed Zhongji guy to Tada Tomokichi and the dojo name got changed too, but less important
This is a fan translation of 原神之璃月奉香人 by 淡白蛋清. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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