How much time has passed, I wonder?
In front of Jinseong, there stood a stone statue of Ksitigarbha.
Its height was around 1 meter or so, I guess?
Once carved from good stone, the Ksitigarbha might have looked impressive, but now, it was covered in mold and algae, suggesting it had not been properly cared for. It appeared to have weathered many storms, with cracks all over, and what should have been beautifully crafted lotus flowers at the base lay buried under decaying leaves.
One of Ksitigarbha’s hands was in a half-palm gesture while the other held a long staff.
The staff had six rings, but oddly enough, it wasn’t carved from stone—just made of iron. And like the statue, it also seemed neglected, rust-covered and barely holding together.
Jinseong approached the statue and examined it closely.
Seemingly disappointed, he frowned slightly.
“So it’s just propped up here.”
Though he had expected it, it turned out the Ksitigarbha had nothing to do with magic.
It looked more like a statue erected to suppress the grim rumors of Kurotsurugimine and to commemorate the people who died wandering in the mountains.
Realizing that the Ksitigarbha statue had no relation to magic, Jinseong turned away without any regrets and moved on. His steps had no fixed direction, moving through the forest with a carefree attitude, as if he didn’t mind getting lost.
And perhaps the sky decided to reward such boldness?
Another Ksitigarbha statue caught Jinseong’s eye.
This one was broken.
Was the second statue damaged due to a calamity, or was it the work of some scoundrel? Its head was completely shattered, and whether the detached head rolled away or got buried, Jinseong couldn’t tell at first glance.
This Ksitigarbha statue, too, looked neglected, covered in dirt and bird droppings, emanating a terrible stench.
However, contrary to its foul appearance, the area around it was quite tidy. Unlike the previously buried Ksitigarbha statue, someone had swept the dirt clean, revealing the ground.
Moreover, upon turning his head, he could spot traces of human activity. There were small pathways, handprints made by someone, and branches neatly arranged to avoid snagging passersby.
‘It must be the work of Shiheng Style,’ he thought.
And perhaps Jinseong’s thoughts had borne fruit?
From a distance, he sensed a presence.
He straightened his posture at the sound of rustling leaves, relaxing his facial muscles. He pretended to be lost in thought, staring intently at the Ksitigarbha statue, as if he hadn’t noticed the presence at all.
“Who are you?”
When someone arrived and asked Jinseong a question, the expression on his face matched his age appropriately.
“Uh?”
Jinseong turned around, looking flustered as if caught in a blunder, his face reflecting a mix of embarrassment and surprise.
Before him stood a man dressed in a kendo uniform.
With a fierce expression reminiscent of a yakuza and a buzz cut, the man glared at Jinseong with irritation in his eyes. As if preparing for unforeseen circumstances, he held the hilt of a wooden sword, ready to draw it at any moment.
Jinseong, sensing the man’s intimidating presence, hesitated and fumbled his expression while raising both hands in a placating gesture.
“Wait! I’m not suspicious!”
“Why are you here?”
“Uh, um…”
Jinseong’s eyes darted around, looking at the decayed tree to his left and the rock to his right. Then, as if making a resolution, he glanced at the warrior, lowering his gaze to whisper.
“Well, you see… actually…”
“Actually?”
Hoo.
With a light sigh, Jinseong seemed resigned to the unraveling of the truth, speaking slowly.
“I just wanted to experience some… spiritual encounter.”
His voice was laced with various emotions.
The injustice of having to endure such nonsense.
The shame of being caught after sneaking in.
The fear that the warrior before him might cause him harm.
And the embarrassment of having to leave his fate in the hands of this person without shouting.
Jinseong’s voice, his act, was that of a foolish college student who had secretly entered private property for a spiritual experience only to be caught by the caretaker.
The warrior furrowed his brow at Jinseong’s words.
“Spiritual experience?”
The warrior let out an exasperated sigh, scanning Jinseong from head to toe.
“Looks like you’re not a capable person…”
“Uh? Y-yes.”
“Phew.”
Hearing Jinseong’s clueless reply, the warrior released his grip on the wooden sword.
Then he strode toward Jinseong and gripped the back of his neck tightly.
A clear intent to prevent escape.
“Do you even know where you are?”
“Uh? Well…”
“This is private land. And a training ground used by the Shiheng Style.”
He spoke to Jinseong with a growl.
“This is the private land of the warriors from the Shiheng Style, who can slice through anything with skill.”
“Y-yeah…”
“Do you understand?”
The warrior poked Jinseong’s chest with his index finger as if to instill fear.
“Well, it may not be as heavily guarded as a JSDF depot, but we also have our share of wary people. What would happen if you suddenly popped out of the dark, and our warriors reflexively swung their swords?”
He began lecturing Jinseong in a voice tinged with anger and annoyance.
“If your Qi is well-trained, your body would shatter into pieces, and even if it’s not, your head would be split open, killing you. Or you’d barely survive, brain-dead, and end up lying down for the rest of your life.”
“Hoo…”
“And besides. You came in here knowing it was private property, didn’t you? Is this what a spiritual experience involves? Wandering around on someone else’s land for your own fun?”
The warrior dragged Jinseong by the neck toward a rock, forcing him to sit down.
He continued to admonish Jinseong in a voice that bordered on threatening.
“And you’re not even a capable person—do you believe you have nine lives? A spiritual experience? Just wandering around to see if there are any ghosts?”
“Y-yes.”
“If an evil spirit or malevolent ghost really appears, do you think you can handle that?”
Jinseong, seemingly exasperated by the warrior’s words, pulled a plastic bag from his pocket.
It contained white salt.
“I brought salt! This will keep me safe!”
“Huh? Salt? Wow… really…”
The warrior stood in disbelief at Jinseong’s naïve college student act, speechless.
“Were you planning to drive away evil with just a handful of salt? What a madman…”
“Why? I heard that’s enough!”
“Wow, the seniors and juniors had mentioned someone like this before… but actually meeting one is ridiculous.”
The warrior, seemingly having a headache, rubbed his temples and sighed loudly, grabbing Jinseong’s collar while lowering his voice.
“Listen, if you value your life, don’t do such stupid things and live properly.”
“Gah!”
Jinseong feigned fear at the warrior’s behavior.
“From today, just stop this nonsense. Got it?”
“Why…?”
“Why? Just stop. If I hear about it or see you doing it again, I’ll break every bone in your body with this wooden sword. Got it?”
Under the warrior’s threatening demeanor, Jinseong appeared frightened, subtly trembling as he nodded vigorously.
Satisfied with his reaction, the warrior released his grip, and Jinseong slumped over as if exhausted.
After some time, having calmed down, he gathered his strength and straightened up, glancing at the warrior as if observing. With a deep sigh, he muttered to himself.
“Phew… I just came because I was curious about the story…”
Hearing his mumbling, the warrior asked with curiosity.
“Story?”
“Yeah…”
“What story?”
“Just a scary story.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Uh? Obviously on the internet.”
The warrior, perhaps intrigued, fixed his gaze on Jinseong, urging him to speak up, but Jinseong, acting clueless, just tilted his head. Frustrated by Jinseong’s obliviousness to the hints, the warrior erupted in anger.
“Tell me the story!”
“Uh, y-yes! Yes!”
As the warrior urged him on, Jinseong slowly opened his mouth.
“Well, when was it? I don’t quite remember the date, but it was probably when I was searching for scary stories online as usual…”
And thus began Jinseong’s tale.
A fabricated story that would entangle Shiheng Style and politician Uchikawa Ryosuke, lending justification to the calamity Jinseong was about to unleash.
An almost superstitious tale, yet one that would incite individuals, spreading madness through the infectious medium of fear.
