I’m Really Unnerved In Tokyo

"puff!!!"

Suffering severe injuries one after another, Dapeng's blood spurted out from Mochizuki Che's mouth and onto Isamu Kondo's face...

"Sorry, since the day I chose the path of the samurai, I have already decided..."

Not paying attention to the red-stained sight, Isamu Kondo, after a heavy blow close to the body like flowing clouds and flowing water, pulled out Hu Che, who was completely submerged in the black ghost's arm, but did not have a drop of blood on it, and slashed at the neck of the man in front of him without stopping. out……

"In order to carry out my beliefs, I will hack to death those who stand in front of me!"

This seemingly simple and honest samurai moves his hands and feet to kill, his eyes are full of indifference to life.

"Kill, keep killing, until you are killed!"

As the director of the "No. 1 Killing Organization at the end of the Bakumatsu", to him, killing people is not much different from weeding in the Tama field when he was young...

After only fighting for an instant, Wang Yueche was so strong that he was almost beheaded!

"Hey Hey……"

At the juncture of life and death, facing the unavoidable beheading in front of him, Mochizuki Che, who was severely injured and bruised all over his body, did not retreat but stepped forward with a wild smile...

"Boom."

A certain sound of metal and iron clanging and bones shattering resounded between the two of them.

"This is……"

Originating from the keen intuition of the crisis, Isamu Kondo's eyes contracted like needlepoints...

"Director Kondo, I haven't noticed it yet, it's a bit indecent."

He subconsciously wanted to retreat, but found that Wang Yueche had already raised his hand to receive his slash...

"This hand doesn't belong to me, so what if you cut it off?"

Not only that, but the scorched left arm was like a scabbard, swallowing the slightly shorter long Zeng Mihu by the root, locking it with the wrist bone, making it impossible to pull it out!

Only then did Kondo Isamu recall that from the beginning to the end, not a single drop of blood flowed from the opponent's ferocious left arm.

"Even the strength...has become stronger?"

Not only that, but the power transmitted by the opponent from the blade is more than twice as strong as before!

"No, you have become weaker."

Mochiueche, who was originally scarred and scarred, suddenly burst into ashes like needles. The scorched black on his left arm ran along his chest, quickly spreading to the left half of his body and face...

"This, this smell..."

Seeing the man in front of him whose appearance gradually became more alien than himself, Isamu Kondo noticed that a mellow and slightly intoxicating sweetness had quietly permeated his mouth and nose.

"Did you use poison? Was... what... when... when..."

Immersed in the sweetness that makes people soft, lazy, and unwilling to give up, he seems to have returned to Edo, sitting in the dilapidated and narrow "Taro Dojo" in the test hall, and the days of drinking and chatting with everyone.

"Come, come, Kondo-san, it's rare that the official family rewarded you with wine today, let's have another drink!"

"Oh, Gensaburo, today's drinking is not bad... What is this little wine, when we are appreciated by those big people, we will have an inexhaustible amount of wine in the future!"

"Sonjiro stop practicing swords, come over and have a drink... as long as you get drunk, I will have a chance in tomorrow's competition..."

"Hey, Soujiro isn't old enough to drink... By the way, all the conspiracy in my heart has been spilled on the tatami with the wine in the pot!"

"You diners, Mr. Kondo is here, how dare you yell loudly... vomit..."

"What are you talking about? It's obviously you, Sui, who is also a diner, you speak the loudest and are the first to throw up!"

It was buried deep in the long river of time, never going back, nor remembering, the wonderful taste of poor-quality sake that costs a penny and a pot.

"No, it's not poison...it's wine...it's the most delicious wine hidden in your heart."

Just when Isamu Kondo struggled to gather consciousness from the sweetness of infinite depravity, Mochizuki's dark ghost hand was already pinching his neck.

"After the pair of broken things were broken, they became less aura..."

The original two red "bulges" on his forehead now seem to have grown a little "bulge" than before.

"Your Excellency helped me warm up just now, it seems that the meridians and sweat glands have been dredged again."

In a "traffic accident" at the foot of Mt. Yotei, after the "Shuten no Ghost Horn" was broken, he completely lost contact with it.

"It seems that those two guys in my body say no, but their bodies are honest?"

The hand and corner implanted in his body seem to be incompatible with each other on weekdays, but at critical moments, they are inseparable.

When fighting with Isamu Kondo, the ghost horn that was thought to have been completely destroyed was stimulated by the crisis and nourished by the "Ibaraki no Arm" and "True Power of the Great River" of the same origin, like after the rain. Bean sprouts tenaciously began to sprout.

Although the breath concentration of this "Shen Pian Ghost Poison Wine" is not as strong as before, as long as enough time is accumulated, it can also achieve the same effect.

"Tell me... who are you?"

There was more and more "spiritual poison wine" in the body, a blush appeared on Isamu Kondo's pale face, but there was a heroic smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Didn't I say it before, my name is..."

"No, that's not what I asked."

After Mochizuki Che was interrupted, Isamu Kondo continued to ask on his own.

"People who carry out their own ideas..."

"People who seek the meaning of life..."

"Which one are you?"

...

Yingqing four years, April 25th.

In the pattering rain, a dark-complexioned man in black-striped weaving feathers and a white compendium tied on his chest was sitting solemnly in the cage.

Beside him, a soldier was carefully shaving off his beard and head with a razor.

Ignoring the troops with muskets all around, the curious people, and the tearful eldest son in the crowd...

He raised his head and drank the spicy and choking sake, looked at the sky in the direction of Edo, without saying a word from the beginning to the end.

Even though the porcelain bowl in his hand fell feebly into the pit beside him, he didn't bother to take a look.

Anyway, after a while, my own head will also roll into it.

"Is there anything else you want to say?"

After beard, hair, and neat clothes, the tall and thin executioner, about forty years old, came behind him, dragging a long knife.

"Quickly receive the three-foot sword of lightning, and only die to repay the king's kindness..."

Muttering in a voice that he could only hear, the man shook his head.

"It's a pity that you can't do harakiri like a samurai."

The executioner behind him sighed silently, and raised the long knife in his hand...

"you……"

The middle-aged man who had his back turned to him suddenly turned his head, a pair of tiger eyes saw the executioner froze.

"please."

Just saying this, the middle-aged man turned his head and looked at the distant sky indifferently.

"Old, what are you doing now?"

During the long period of time before the long knife reached his neck and the human head rolled down to the bottom of the pit, his thoughts had drifted to an unknown distance...

"Sorry, the next road, I want you to go on alone."

Back in the countryside of Tama, together with Toshizo Hijikata, who was carrying a medicine box and selling along the street, ran side by side on the field road in that carefree summer.