Chapter Fifty-Five: The Earth Deity’s Fierce Battle with the Japanese Ninja

In the blink of an eye, three ninja of the same rank encircled Jiang Luyu. At their head, Kimura gripped a gleaming katana and smiled. “Jiang Song, your ninjutsu is as strange and unpredictable as the legends say. But against three of your equals, you are doomed today.”

Jiang Luyu looked at the three before him and gave a bitter smile. “If I fall in this fight, be ready to be hunted down by our master. I’ve already sent word to him.” With that, he raised his own sharp katana and assumed a stance, ready to attack.

His words seemed to have unnerved the two ninja beside Kimura. They exchanged glances, then spoke in halting Chinese, “Kimura, perhaps we should end this here. You know Sasaki’s skills—if we kill his prized disciple, he’ll pursue us to the ends of the earth.” As they finished, their blades drooped and their fighting spirit diminished.

Kimura’s eyes sharpened at their hesitation. He coldly addressed his companions, “Yamamoto, Fujiwara, remember—he once trampled you underfoot in the ninja world. Now that we have the Yin Ghost from that jonin, our own ascension is within reach. Together, we are invincible among our peers. We must eliminate this promising Chinese before he surpasses us.” With those words, Kimura charged at Jiang Luyu with his blade.

Clearly, the two others were enticed by that mysterious elixir. Determined to advance their techniques, they joined the fray alongside Kimura, while dozens of lower-ranked ninja watched from the sidelines.

One against three—a Chinese ninja squaring off against three Japanese, and yet, he remained calm, every move composed and precise.

The clash of blades rang out—clink, clink, clink—transporting me to the world of martial arts films, where swords flashed and shadows danced.

But the advantage could not last. One man alone could not withstand three working in concert. Jiang Luyu began to lose ground. Kimura seized an opening and slashed a ten-centimeter wound across Jiang’s arm, forcing him onto the defensive. Several times, he narrowly avoided a fatal blow. Now, his body was covered with at least ten wounds.

If this continued, Jiang Luyu was sure to die. Just as I was about to intervene, a figure even more mysterious than these ninja stepped in.

This person’s speed defied my imagination. I could scarcely believe he was of flesh and blood.

In an instant, the newcomer drove back the three ninja and revealed himself at Jiang Luyu’s side. Though not tall, he was surprisingly handsome.

He spoke to Kimura and his men in an odd, resonant voice, “I am Han Jie, the Earth Deity of this land. Though my temple was relocated outside the school when it was built, I am still a spirit of this realm. In today’s harmonious society, the Jade Emperor forbids you gifted ones from such violence. Leave now, or I shall show no mercy.” As he spoke, a gnarled wooden staff appeared in his hand.

This was no ordinary staff—it was the scepter granted only to grand Earth Deities, imbued with divine power by the Jade Emperor himself. Han Jie ruled over all the lesser Earth Deities in the province.

Kimura, arrogant as always, scoffed at Han Jie’s proclamation. “Hmph, what is a Chinese Earth Deity compared to our Great Amaterasu? You claim to be a deity—let me see your strength!” With that, he called Yamamoto and Fujiwara to attack Han Jie together, while Jiang Luyu, gravely wounded, sat aside using ninjutsu to heal himself.

Japanese ninjutsu, after all, is a complex art—there are offensive, defensive, and healing techniques, but the most renowned is the art of concealment.

Kimura’s phantom technique let him move instantly to Han Jie’s side, engaging him head-on. Meanwhile, Yamamoto and Fujiwara exploited their specialties—stealth and speed—to flank Han Jie from either side, each blow executed to perfection.

But Han Jie was no ordinary man—he was a Chinese deity. Faced with the blasphemy of these Japanese, Han Jie showed no anger. Effortlessly parrying their blades with his staff, he spoke with disarming ease, “You speak of Amaterasu… ah, how should I put this? I suppose I mustn’t say that Amaterasu once ran with our Jade Emperor. But truth be told, deities like him are a dime a dozen in our celestial courts.” With that, Han Jie struck Yamamoto in the abdomen with his staff.

It seemed an ordinary blow, yet it carried immense power. Yamamoto spat blood, staggered back five steps, his body trembling, his blade falling from his hand as he dropped to one knee.

Kimura cared little for Yamamoto’s fate. Enraged by Han Jie’s mockery of his beloved Amaterasu, he shouted, “Our Amaterasu is invincible! You speak lies!” No sooner had he finished than Han Jie’s staff landed a blow.

This time, it struck Kimura square in the groin. Han Jie did not use his full strength—merely a few hundred pounds’ force, enough to flick Kimura’s manhood, then deftly snatch the Yin Ghost from his grasp. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Han Jie said lightly. “In a few decades, perhaps, your Amaterasu will be conquered by our Jade Emperor, and then he’ll sing a song of surrender before you.”

Kimura paid little heed to these words. Grimacing in pain, clutching himself, he glared at Han Jie with disdain, the Yin Ghost forgotten. In broken Chinese, he groaned, “You… you… despicable.” He called for a few jonin to help him away.

Now both Kimura and Yamamoto were wounded. Fujiwara, seeing Han Jie had seized the Yin Ghost, lost his will to fight. He purposely withdrew, darted to Kimura’s side, and said, “Kimura, this man is too strong. Let’s retreat for now—there will be other chances.”

Kimura nodded, growling “Retreat,” and each led their men into the night.

Now the vast field was empty, save for sixteen unconscious ninja, Han Jie, and Jiang Luyu. Han Jie said nothing more. He pressed the ghostly spirit of the Yin Ghost onto his staff, which glimmered with a pale white light.

Han Jie then turned and, leaving only the sight of his back, passed straight through the wall—never once sparing Jiang Luyu a glance.

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