The horizon was overcast, the great sea calm and waveless, when distant water mist drifted over like a thin veil.

Splash… splash… The pleasant sound of water arose as a sea vessel quietly emerged from the fog, carrying four silent monks. Barefoot and in short robes, they rowed with heads bowed. At the bow hung a high lantern with golden chrysanthemums painted on the paper shade – eight petals glowing in sequence.

This sea area was quite eerie. Initially light smoke and thin mist only drifted slowly around the ship’s sides, but gradually the water vapor rose higher and grew thicker until the sea fog engulfed the small boat, transforming everything into a hazy blur of haunting beauty.

The lantern light receded into the water mist until gradually nothing could be seen. Then from behind came the sound of oars again – three more small boats approaching.

Like the previous vessel, these three boats each hung a lantern painted with eight-petaled chrysanthemums. But the rowers were no longer monks – they were four warriors with short swords at their waists and cloth bands around their heads, each concentrating on rowing as they followed the lead boat into the thick fog.

The greatest taboo for seafaring is encountering heavy sea fog. Though hurricanes are dangerous, they at least have traceable signs and can be avoided. But sea fog is different – it comes without warning and leaves without trace, extremely difficult to guard against. Once ships are forced to navigate in fog, they constantly risk running aground and sinking.

In the pitch blackness, a distant shout suddenly rang out: “Po— shinde e!”

The cry was high and clear, heard for several li. Suddenly there were several splashing sounds as the four boats ahead all dropped rope lines. The hemp ropes had markings every foot, with black iron weights tied at the ends – clearly for measuring water depth.

“Igi!” “Noza!” The rope weights sank into the seabed as the four boats began reporting depths. Suddenly the sea surface heaved violently, and from behind the fog broke open to reveal a large ship emerging.

A very large ship with fore and aft masts of magnificent scale, divided into upper, middle, and lower decks. Three zhang wide and about fifteen zhang long, it resembled a floating mansion breaking through the waves. On the foremast hung a great flag – dimly visible through the fog, the flag bore a golden chrysanthemum with sixteen petals radiating from center to edge.

Among evergreen pines and cypresses, plum orchid bamboo and chrysanthemum, sects in the Middle Kingdom that used flowers as emblems were rare, and those using golden chrysanthemums as their symbol were unheard of. Needless to say, this chrysanthemum flag did not originate from the Central Plains but was the world-famous “Toba Chrysanthemum Crest.” This great ship must have come from “Japan” – it was an envoy vessel dispatched from Kyoto.

Since the Heian period, chrysanthemums had been the symbol of the Eastern Islands. Emperor Toba of Japan loved chrysanthemums and often decorated vessels with chrysanthemum patterns or adorned clothes and swords with them. Over time this tradition endured and became the imperial emblem. As for the name “Japan,” it came from Prince Shotoku of the Asuka period, who sent envoys to the Sui Dynasty, calling himself “the Son of Heaven of the Land of the Rising Sun writing to the Son of Heaven of the Land of the Setting Sun.” From then on, the people delighted in these two characters, passing them down through generations until the name “Japan” was officially adopted during the Taika era.

Japan means the homeland of the sun. Yet at this moment, sailing the great sea, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Looking out from the great ship, only thick fog was visible. The four boats ahead were trapped in heavy fog, and though they had lit lanterns, these could not illuminate the sea surface – only dim halos remained in the mist, appearing like scattered fishing fires, desolate yet strangely beautiful.

Click, click – flint struck on the great ship as lights were kindled and someone unfolded a sea chart.

This chart was covered with islands. Names like “Okinawa,” “Amami,” and “Sakishima” were all positioned centrally, suggesting this chart was drawn by the “Ryukyu Kingdom,” which naturally placed “Ryukyu” at the center of the world.

By the dim lamplight, a red line could be seen starting from “Okinawa” in the east, proceeding westward to reach a small island called “Yan Island.” The red line paused briefly there before continuing west. Suddenly the red line made a sharp turn, quickly veering north as if encountering something it had to circumvent before continuing westward.

Whether Ryukyu or Korea, when various nations’ sea charts were drawn to this point, they all made sharp turns to guide travelers in avoidance. But what were they avoiding? At sea there are no mountains or valleys, just blue mirror-smooth water – what was there to dodge? Unless… they had encountered…

*(Toba Chrysanthemum Crest: A mon (family crest) on Japanese kimono, also called monshō, representing a family, household, shrine, company or other specific group. Mon are usually circular but can be polygonal. Plant patterns are most common among mon, but there are also implement patterns, animal patterns, geometric patterns, etc.

Mon originated in the Heian period and by the Sengoku period represented family honor that could be inherited. Later mon became necessary symbols in official and social contexts, representing identity.

Among all mon, the most famous is the “Chrysanthemum Imperial Mon” from the Kamakura period. Emperor Go-Toba particularly loved chrysanthemums, decorating not only clothes and carriages but even swords with chrysanthemum patterns. The emperor’s love of chrysanthemums was inherited by later emperors, making the chrysanthemum mon the imperial family crest. In the second year of Meiji, the Japanese Emperor proclaimed the sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum as the imperial crest.)*

Suddenly “bang!” – a palm slammed down on the sea chart as someone called out urgently: “Shin… gari!”

Time to drop anchor! This person’s voice carried no trace of tongue-rolling – undoubtedly Japanese. With a tremendous splash, waves shot up more than a zhang high as a great iron anchor sank to the seabed. The deck immediately echoed with conch shell sounds, warning the four boats ahead to stop. The man took a deep breath: “Kamata.”

“Hai!” came the response. This “Kamata” was indeed a person’s name, written as “Sickle Field.” As soon as the words fell, “Kamata” turned his head and whispered a few words, immediately followed by an endless chorus of “Hai! Hai!” from behind.

Click, click, click, click – flint struck everywhere as the ship blazed with light, revealing the deck crowded with people surrounding a middle-aged man.

The man wore ancient Nara robes with two swords at his waist – one short, one long. The short one hung at his left hip, about a foot and a half long – clearly a “wakizashi.” Above the “wakizashi” was another long sword about four feet in length, its scabbard made of ivory, the grip wrapped in layers of sharkskin. Such a magnificent weapon was undoubtedly a “tachi.”

Japan had long been renowned worldwide for its sword-forging techniques. By shape and length, swords were divided into four grades: “pheasant sword,” “tachi,” “uchigatana,” and “wakizashi.” The “tachi,” being of suitable length, was the warrior’s weapon of choice in combat and a symbol of its owner’s status. As for why this man wore an additional “wakizashi,” it wasn’t because he habitually used dual swords, but because he was a nobleman.

People die leaving names, leopards die leaving pelts – as a nobleman, wearing dual swords was a privilege because they needed to prepare one blade for seppuku. Their official ranks and lineages were all recorded on that “wakizashi.”

“Suō Yamaguchi castle town magistrate official. Ōuchi Yoshiomi.”

The “wakizashi’s” handguard, called “tsuba,” was inscribed with a line of Chinese characters. “Suō Yamaguchi” dominated the northwest of Honshu Island and was known as Japan’s western capital. “Ōuchi” was the family name of the local ruling house, so this “Ōuchi Yoshiomi” must be a descendant of the “Ōuchi clan,” guardians of seven provinces, and owner of this ship.

The sky was dim and fog thick as the great ship had anchored. Waves gently lapped the hull as Ōuchi Yoshiomi led his warriors to the bow.

The deck was silent as death. After a long while, someone asked quietly: “It’s so dark – is it evening?”

Everyone on the ship looked up to see the sky pitch black as if it were deep night, yet they vaguely remembered eating breakfast not long ago. How could night have suddenly fallen? Footsteps echoed back and forth on deck as a warrior went below to check the hourglass, returning to report: “It’s currently daytime, approaching noon.”

Hearing this, everyone’s hearts shook violently, and Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s expression grew grave as he remained silent for a long time.

The sea before them was shrouded in water mist – the deeper into the ocean, the thicker the fog became. The clouds above also hung lower and lower until it seemed the sky was collapsing. The cloud layer ahead had descended all the way to the sea surface, merging with the mist to form an immensely thick wall of clouds, making it impossible to distinguish where sea ended and sky began.

Such a maritime phenomenon was unprecedented. A warrior leaned over and whispered: “My lord, something’s not right.”

Indeed something was wrong. Early July, the height of summer heat, and at noon – it should be blazing sun and azure sea. Who would have thought that after breakfast, the weather became increasingly strange? Not only did sunlight gradually disappear, but fog slowly rose over the sea until it became this hellish, sunless netherworld.

The warriors were anxious, asking quietly: “My lord, where exactly have we arrived? Why is the weather so strange?”

“Such dark skies and thick water vapor…” Ōuchi Yoshiomi said softly, “We should have reached the legendary ‘Dream Sea.'” At the words “Dream Sea,” people whispered to each other, everyone asking around – apparently no one had heard this name.

Amid the discussion, Ōuchi Yoshiomi continued softly: “This sea area has many names. In the imperial family records, this region uses a name established seven hundred years ago, hence ‘Dream Sea.’ In Korean mouths, this place is called ‘White Snake Mystery Sea.’ In Ryukyu people’s eyes, this sea area is a shortcut to hell, hence ‘Mulian Ghost Sea.'”

“What!” Hearing that Dream Sea was actually some “Ghost Sea,” the deck erupted in commotion, everyone’s faces filled with horror.

Every place, every country has its own legends. It was said that sailing southwest from “Hakata Port” for seven days and nights, one would encounter a sea region perpetually shrouded in thick fog. Ships navigating here often couldn’t distinguish directions – at best losing their way, at worst running aground and sinking, disappearing mysteriously. Therefore Korean folk legends claimed this sea area must harbor a mysterious great white snake that devoured passing ships, hence calling it “Mystery Sea.”

In the deep, endless foggy sea, Japanese saw it as a “dream,” Koreans suspected it was a “mystery,” but Ryukyu people spoke of it as “ghosts.” As for the Chinese elders with the longest history, they called this place “Sea of Suffering,” meaning to warn descendants never to come here seeking trouble.

The warriors whispered: “My lord, why… why did you bring the ship here? You couldn’t have lost your way, could you?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi shook his head: “I’ve been sailing for thirty years and never lost my way once.” Everyone exchanged glances, musing: “Then… then why did you come here? Could it be you want to… to…”

Just as they were wondering, suddenly “bang!” – the ship seemed to strike something, making the hull rock continuously. The warriors were greatly alarmed, fearing some sea monster had indeed come. Just as they were about to sound the alarm, Ōuchi Yoshiomi waved his hand: “No harm – it’s the Kawano family ship arriving.”

“Kawano family?” The warriors were surprised and quickly turned to look. Indeed, through the fog they could dimly see masts, and a large ship had stopped alongside them. After several light impacts and slight rocking, a large group of warriors had boarded.

“Ōuchi-kun!” A deep, resonant voice came from the fog as someone said coldly: “You’re late.”

Hearing the voice, the warriors became highly alert, fanning out in formation to protect their lord. A glass lantern was raised on deck, illuminating the speaker’s chest garment. The front was decorated with an embroidered crest – an octagon with three bars inside, the “Oshiki Sanmonji.” The warriors’ faces changed dramatically as they all put hands to sword hilts. Instead, Ōuchi Yoshiomi stepped forward and bowed: “Yōō-kun, it’s been long since we met.”

From the thick fog emerged about ten men, each wearing a long sword at his left hip with “kaishi” paper visible at their collar openings. The leader was a warrior from Iyo Province’s Kawano family, ranked second among their swordsmen: “Kawano Yōō.”

The “Kawano Party” was no joke. Years ago when Kublai Khan invaded Japan with over ten thousand naval forces landing on Takashima, they encountered fierce resistance from Kawano warriors. In close combat, though the Kawano retainers suffered heavy casualties, the world-renowned Mongol army was also completely annihilated. This showed the “Kawano Party’s” killing prowess made even Mongol troops fear them.

The warriors’ breathing quickened. Seeing their lord had ventured into “Dream Sea” and “Kawano Yōō” had appeared with his men, everyone exchanged glances with unease in their hearts.

The sky was dim, the sea dark, and “Kawano Yōō’s” voice was ice-cold as he said quietly: “Ōuchi-kun, did you bring the item?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi nodded: “Of course.” He then untied his outer robe and took out an oiled paper package from against his skin, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a tattered silk scroll of seven colors, quite ancient.

Kawano Yōō smiled slightly: “Ōuchi-kun, how did you come by this item? Could you tell us?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi said: “This was passed down from my great-uncle.” Kawano Yōō laughed: “Your great-uncle? You mean Ōuchi Yoshihiro, who was defeated and committed seppuku?”

“Insolent!” The Ōuchi warriors were shocked and furious, all drawing their swords. The Kawano party had long been prepared – in a flash they drew their blades, both sides glaring at each other in confrontation.

Kawano Yōō smiled: “Ōuchi-kun, please have your retainers stand down. I don’t want to perform ‘living trial seven torsos.'” Hearing “living trial seven torsos,” the warriors’ faces changed dramatically, their hands gripping sword hilts actually trembling slightly.

After Japanese craftsmen forged new swords, they necessarily tested the blade’s sharpness, using methods divided into “living trial” and “dead trial.” “Dead trial” involved stacking corpses and slashing with the sword – cutting through one body was called “one torso,” then “two torsos,” “three torsos” and so on. This “Kawano Yōō” had once cut through seven corpses with one sword, thus calling himself “Seven Torso King.” His “living trial seven torsos” naturally meant testing swords on living people.

This Kawano party was cruel and bloodthirsty, their technique of slashing living bodies unmatched in the world. It was said that on Takashima there was a supreme master who once cut through fourteen torsos with one blade – showing his fierce swordsmanship. By comparison, Ōuchi family warriors were better at trade and navigation, their temperament closer to merchants. If both sides truly fought with real swords, life and death would be immediately apparent.

Knowing he couldn’t win, Ōuchi Yoshiomi had to instruct his subordinates: “Everyone stand down, let’s not harm our friendship.” The retainers looked at each other and slowly retreated a few steps.

Fog filled the deck and the situation was unclear. No one knew why their lord had come to “Dream Sea,” but everyone feared the “Kawano Party’s” superior swordsmanship and still gripped their swords tightly, not daring to relax. Ōuchi Yoshiomi took a deep breath: “Yōō-kun, I’ve brought my item. Shouldn’t you take out your share?”

Kawano Yōō chuckled and immediately raised his right hand, reaching into his robes. The Ōuchi retainers were startled: “Slowly! Use your left hand!” When Japanese warriors visited friends, they carried swords in their right hand to show no hostile intent. Who knew if Yōō had a hidden “pocket sword” in his robes?

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” Kawano Yōō looked up and laughed heartily, seeming to mock their pettiness. He forcefully pulled his hand out, drawing a black cloth from his robes and boldly shaking it out to spread on the ground.

The warriors were slightly startled and looked carefully. The black cloth was five feet square with a seven-colored silk fragment pasted at the bottom, torn and incomplete, with two characters embroidered in gold thread. The characters resembled Chinese but were hard to identify.

The Ōuchi warriors were slightly startled and asked quietly: “Are… are these Chinese characters?” Kawano Yōō smiled: “These are ancient Chinese characters called small seal script.” Everyone looked at each other in confusion, unable to make sense of it, and asked their lord: “My lord, what… what do these two characters mean?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi coughed: “Dream Sea.” The warriors were slightly startled and repeated: “Dream Sea?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi said softly: “Yes. This is the ancient sea chart of ‘Dream Sea.’ If we want to break into Dream Sea, we must piece together this map.”

“What?” Hearing this, the warriors couldn’t help but be shocked, saying tremblingly: “My lord, you… you want to break into the Sea of Suffering?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi nodded but said nothing.

The sea area before them was unpredictable, virtually a point of no return, so governments of all nations earnestly warned their people not to venture there rashly. Yet Ōuchi Yoshiomi actually wanted to break in? What did he want to do? Did he really want to explore hell? Or hunt the “Mystery Sea Serpent” from Korean legends?

The warriors were dumbfounded, unable to speak for a long time. Ōuchi Yoshiomi said calmly: “To be honest, when my great-uncle Yoshihiro was alive, he had a wish for us descendants to seek out the whereabouts of this sea chart, piece it together completely, and enter Dream Sea to investigate.” Kawano Yōō smiled: “Pity your great-uncle committed seppuku and couldn’t fulfill his dying wish.” Hearing this, all the Kawano warriors burst into laughter.

Hearing the other side’s repeated mockery, all the Ōuchi people showed angry expressions. Ōuchi Yoshiomi shook his head, signaling his subordinates not to be provoked: “Yōō-kun, my chart was passed down from ancestors, but I don’t know where you got yours?” Kawano Yōō smiled: “Guess.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi pondered slightly: “Was it passed down from your Ochi ancestors?”

The Ochi clan were the Kawano family’s ancestors, known as kings of the Seto Inland Sea. Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s question was naturally guessing whether the Kawano clan, like Ōuchi Yoshihiro, was intent on exploring the Mystery of Dream Sea.

Hearing this, Kawano Yōō just smiled: “Wrong. My Kawano family has suffered through war’s devastation – being able to find shelter is already fortunate. How could we have the heart to solve Dream Sea mysteries?” Hearing this, warriors from both sides all lowered their heads and sighed softly.

Since the Kamakura Shogunate’s establishment, Japan had burned with warfare for hundreds of years, especially after the “Jōkyū Disturbance” when warrior arrogance soared. They exiled emperors, murdered court nobles, and warlords held private armies, each wanting to march on Kyoto. Local powerful families, with one careless step, often had entire households commit seppuku. Not only did the Kawano family live in constant fear – didn’t the Ōuchi clan face the same threat of destruction?

*(Kamakura Shogunate Jōkyū Disturbance: In 1184, at the end of the Heian period, Minamoto no Yoritomo, as leader of warrior groups, quelled civil war and established Japan’s first shogunate government, the Kamakura Shogunate. The Kamakura Shogunate ruled for over a century with constant warfare, most famously the Jōkyū Disturbance.

The Minamoto relatives, the Hōjō clan, fought the Hiki clan for power. The Hōjō ultimately won while the Hiki and Minamoto were exterminated. The Hōjō-Hiki struggle gave the imperial family hope for revival. Retired Emperors Go-Toba, Juntoku, and Tsuchimikado began their campaign in the third year of Jōkyū (1221) in the fifth month, initially unstoppable. But because shogunate warriors didn’t want to return to oppression by imperial nobility, they fought extremely bravely, and the war ended with the three retired emperors’ defeat.)*

Thinking of Yoshihiro’s forced seppuku, Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s eyes flashed with pain as he sighed: “Very well, if this chart wasn’t passed down from your ancestors, how did it come into Yōō-kun’s hands? Could you tell us?” Kawano Yōō smiled: “Of course.” He slowly stepped forward and said quietly: “To tell you honestly, my chart was…”

“Stolen!” His voice rose as Kawano Yōō suddenly reached out, striking Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s arm with his palm and snatching the sea chart while he was in pain.

“Bakā!” The Ōuchi warriors cried out and raised their swords to strike. More than ten blades clashed and pushed against each other with clanging sounds. Suddenly there was a violent roar as Kawano Yōō’s eyes bulged with fury, drawing his sword. The Ōuchi warriors felt sharp pain in their hands as all their weapons flew out and they fell backward.

This was the famous Japanese sword-drawing technique: “Iaijutsu.” When drawing the sword, power flows from ankle through knee, leg, waist, shoulder, elbow, finally adding the terrifying wrist strength developed through years of training. Once the sword leaves its sheath, it carries thousands of pounds of fierce force. Kawano Yōō, known as “Living Trial Seven Torsos,” indeed shocked back more than ten Ōuchi retainers with one move and still had strength to spare.

“Bakā!” “Kusō!” Seeing the enemy had been disarmed, the Kawano warriors pressed their advantage, swarming forward to kick and beat. The Ōuchi family could only cry and fall, barely protecting their lord, unable to fight back.

As the saying goes, “punishment doesn’t reach gentlemen” – Japanese warriors, when challenged, regardless of whether the opponent was male or female, old or young, could kill anyone of lower status at any time. This was the later famous “right of kirisute gomen.”

Submission to superiors was the etiquette of the weak. Kawano Yōō smiled coldly and bent down to pick up the black cloth on the ground, but felt his hand tighten as if the cloth was caught on something.

There were many rivets on the deck. Kawano Yōō frowned and was about to crouch for a closer look when he saw the deck fog swirl and a human figure emerge. Kawano Yōō was alarmed: “Ninja techniques?” Though surprised, he remained calm, raising his tachi to strike the figure, but at that moment felt pain in his back as a sharp blade pressed against him.

Kawano Yōō took a deep breath and looked sideways to see a pair of long, slanted eyes hidden behind a face mask. Looking at his subordinates, he saw they too had figures behind them, dressed in gray that blended with the sea fog. These people had somehow evaded all the warriors and controlled the situation in one move.

Since the Asuka period, legends told of a group of assassins dwelling in the deep mountains of Japan – coming without trace, leaving without sound, specializing in assassination, called “Yan Shōgun.” Previously thought to be baseless tales, yet tonight these people had truly appeared in “Dream Sea.”

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the sparrow behind. Having finally controlled the Ōuchi warriors, who would have thought another group was hidden behind, waiting to reap the benefits? Kawano Yōō calculated silently, reasoning these people hadn’t come to kill – otherwise they would have killed him with the first strike. He immediately said: “Whom do you serve? Could you say?”

The assassin behind him remained silent, only extending his hand toward the black cloth on the ground, while his left blade pressed against Kawano’s back – one movement and the blade would rise and fall to end a life.

Kawano Yōō was secretly furious, knowing this “ninja technique” was completely different from martial arts. Based on assassination, they studied hidden weapons and poisons, wall-climbing and roof-walking, accustomed to dark deeds, rarely engaging in open sword duels. Though his swordsmanship was superior, it was useless here.

Seeing the sea chart about to fall into “Yan Shōgun’s” hands, Kawano Yōō’s mind raced like lightning as he suddenly called out: “Ōuchi-kun!”

Before his words ended, he kicked out, sending the black cloth flying. Ōuchi Yoshiomi was also quick to react, lunging forward to catch the black cloth. In a glance, gray shadows surrounded them, blade light flashing as all of Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s vital points were threatened. Looking at his hands, he also held an oil lamp, the flame tilting and about to catch the sea chart.

The moment of mutual destruction had arrived – everyone held back, fearing to harm their own interests. After all, if the sea chart were burned, everyone would return empty-handed. The three sides faced off in tense silence when suddenly laughter came from the fog: “What’s this? The ship hasn’t even entered Dream Sea and you’re already running aground?”

Hearing this, everyone on board shuddered. From the fog emerged a monk about sixty years old, carrying a black walking stick. The Ōuchi warriors were overjoyed, forgetting they were in danger, and cried out in unison: “Master! You’ve awakened!”

“Master” was an honorific title – in Japan, only high-ranking monks of the Zen and Pure Land sects could receive this designation. This old monk was clearly extraordinary. He smiled kindly: “Yes, I only slept for half a day, but with all the fighting and killing on deck, if I didn’t wake up, I might have slept forever.” He glanced at Kawano Yōō and smiled: “Don’t you think so, Kawano benefactor?”

Their eyes met, and Kawano Yōō couldn’t help but exclaim: “Master Itsukai? You… you were supposed to be in Kyoto. How are you here?” Master Itsukai smiled: “What about you? How are you here too?”

Kawano Yōō coughed: “I… I was invited by Ōuchi-kun…” Master Itsukai said: “I see. But have you thought about who invited Ōuchi Yoshiomi?”

Kawano Yōō suddenly understood: “This… this was all your arrangement?” Master Itsukai laughed heartily: “Of course. If this old monk hadn’t invited you two families, how would ‘A’Ichi’ from Yoshino Mountain have become this uninvited guest?” Everyone’s hearts sank as they learned this “Yan Shōgun” was called “A’Ichi.” Given such thunderous methods, it was surprising he didn’t even have a surname.

Master Itsukai chuckled and approached Ōuchi Yoshiomi: “Come, give me the sea chart.” At this moment, both sides had something to rely on and something to fear. Looking at Ōuchi Yoshiomi being supported by opponents, one thrust could end his life. But he also held the lamp stand – with one flick of his wrist, he could instantly turn the sea chart to ashes.

Seeing Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s hesitation, Master Itsukai smiled: “Don’t worry, they want the sea chart, not your life. Come, hand the chart to this old monk for safekeeping – all three families can rest assured.”

These words seemed directed at Ōuchi Yoshiomi but were actually meant for “A’Ichi.” Indeed, he assessed the situation, pondered for a long while, then waved his hand, commanding his men to withdraw their weapons. Ōuchi Yoshiomi breathed a sigh of relief and quickly handed over the sea chart. Master Itsukai laughed and looked toward Kawano Yōō: “Benefactor, your turn.”

Kawano Yōō’s eyes darted about, seemingly scheming. Master Itsukai smiled: “What good is holding a fragment? Give it to me quickly.” Kawano Yōō chuckled dryly and had no choice but to hand over the sea chart he’d just seized. A’Ichi nodded and clapped his hands – his numerous subordinates immediately vanished back into the water mist. Without prior knowledge, no one could tell people were hidden in the fog.

This Master Itsukai had extraordinary bearing – with just a few words, he’d resolved a crisis and even obtained the precious sea charts of both the Kawano and Ōuchi clans. He approached the “Yan Shōgun”: “A’Ichi, hand over your chart.”

Everyone’s hearts sank, realizing this “Yan Shōgun” had also brought a sea chart. Seeing the other’s hesitation, Master Itsukai smiled: “Don’t be stingy – whatever treasures Dream Sea holds are still waiting for us to excavate.” This last sentence was quite forceful. A’Ichi took a deep breath, rubbed his hands together – somehow producing a black brocade pouch from his palms – and handed it to Master Itsukai.

Among the present heroes were merchants, warriors, and assassins, yet all ultimately bowed to the arrangements of one old monk. Watching from the sidelines, everyone was filled with admiration.

In this current shogunate era, the entire nation was filled with violent energy – killing without compensation, borrowing without repayment. Yet only this “Master Itsukai” remained carefree and leisurely. He spread Kawano’s black cloth on the deck, holding Ōuchi’s inherited fragment with a slight smile: “Yan Island.”

Everyone didn’t understand until Master Itsukai brought his hand down, making the two silk pieces come together perfectly.

The fragments from both Ōuchi and Kawano clans complemented each other’s missing corners flawlessly, as if made by heaven.

Earlier when Kawano Yōō mentioned this torn silk’s origin, he’d claimed it was seized through violence. From this perspective, the victim might well have been the Ōuchi clan. Amid the suspicion, Ōuchi Yoshiomi said nothing – given his consistently respectful and loyal nature, though he had thousands of words, he dared not say more before Master Itsukai. The other retainers gnashed their teeth, glaring angrily at the Kawano warriors. Master Itsukai said: “A’Ichi, I’m opening the pouch.”

As soon as he spoke, the pouch opened, pouring out numerous fragments – the smallest no bigger than a fly’s head, the largest no bigger than a fingernail, all minutely detailed. Master Itsukai smiled: “A’Ichi, you do it yourself – I couldn’t piece it together.” The “Yan Shōgun” slowly approached. His entire body was wrapped tightly, completely concealing his appearance and age, even whether male or female. Only that aura of killing intent stirred strange feelings in people’s hearts.

The Ōuchi retainers secretly stood guard, gripping their tachi tightly. Kawano Yōō also chuckled, using his thumb to push the sword hilt up an inch, ready for any emergency.

This “Yan Shōgun” differed from legendary ninja assassins – he carried no bamboo tubes or blowdarts, no hand armor or ninja swords. Only a sharp dagger of strange design was hidden at his waist – the famous “shuriken.” He crouched down, gathered the fragments on the ground, and began piecing together the puzzle. In moments, he’d assembled a horizontal scroll three feet long and half a foot wide.

Everyone silently mused that this person must have spent daily time studying these fragments, already knowing them by heart, needing no thought to reassemble them into a map. Master Itsukai nodded and gradually pushed the scroll up to the northwest corner of the black cloth: “Bohai Sea.”

The sea chart gradually revealed its full appearance. The Kawano fragment brought the Ryukyu islands – “Okinawa,” “Amami,” “Yan Island” – all scattered about. The Ōuchi chart marked an island labeled “Yan Island.” The “Yan Shōgun” brought the northwest Bohai Sea. With three families’ combined efforts, they’d outlined a general picture.

Everyone took a deep breath and focused on the center of the chart, seeing a blank space – the “Dream Sea” before them.

Kawano Yōō chuckled: “After all this trouble, we still have nothing.” Master Itsukai smiled: “Don’t worry! This old monk hasn’t made his move yet.” Everyone was both surprised and delighted, gathering closer again. Master Itsukai leaned on his black jade walking stick, slowly straightened up, took out a silk cloth from his robes, held it up to the light, and declared: “Dream Island!”

In the dim fog, by lamplight, the silk cloth glowed faintly. In the center was an island – presumably the legendary “Dream Island” – with a red line winding down, marking sea and land routes.

There were countless sea charts in the world, and every nation’s maritime maps shunned this place respectfully. But this chart was different – it placed the strange sea area before them at the center of the map. Naturally, this was the true “Dream Sea” navigation chart. At this thought, whether ninja assassins or sword-wielding warriors, everyone breathed heavily, unable to suppress their excitement.

The “Yan Shōgun” suddenly asked: “Master, how did you obtain this chart?” Master Itsukai said lightly: “I bought it.”

Kawano Yōō laughed: “Bought it? Really?” Master Itsukai said: “Absolutely true. I bought it from a pawn shop in Liujiagang.” Everyone was dumbfounded. Master Itsukai explained: “Twelve or thirteen years ago, I crossed the sea to worship Buddha and was walking through Liujiagang market when I unexpectedly saw this chart. I was so excited my heart nearly stopped – I immediately took out all my silver to buy it.”

Kawano Yōō chuckled: “Master, no need for false modesty – you were probably planning to rob them, right?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi coughed and ignored him: “What happened next? Master, how much did you pay for it?” Master Itsukai said: “Thirty wen.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” Kawano Yōō looked up and laughed: “How ridiculous! Who was so ignorant of its value?”

In the silence, Master Itsukai slowly crouched down and placed his “Dream Island” in the center of the black cloth. Everyone’s hearts pounded as they gathered close to observe. “Yan Island” was there, “Ryukyu Okinawa” was there, “Northwest Bohai Sea” was also there. The outer routes were clearly visible, and even the central “Dream Island” had appeared. Unfortunately, they were still missing one piece – the connecting piece between inner and outer areas.

The map seemed to have a ring of flesh carved out – it had outer and inner parts but lacked the middle sea route, so the red lines at both ends couldn’t connect and form a complete path.

After a long while, Master Itsukai finally stood up: “Everyone, we’re still missing one piece.” Kawano Yōō shrugged: “What do we do? Return home?” Master Itsukai said: “Everyone, let me be honest – I summoned you here precisely to take risks.”

Everyone was slightly stunned: “You… you already expected the sea chart would be missing a piece?” Master Itsukai said: “You’re correct. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have summoned you all.” Kawano Yōō mused: “So someone else is also coveting the treasure?” Master Itsukai nodded: “Exactly. Someone has beaten us to it and already entered Dream Sea.”

Everyone understood – the missing chart piece had already fallen into someone else’s hands. If the other party could reach “Dream Island” first, they could monopolize all the treasure. Ōuchi Yoshiomi said quietly: “Master, our… our opponent – who are they? Could you tell us?” Master Itsukai didn’t answer, but his expression was extremely grave. Everyone read his expression and understood the opponent was extraordinary – definitely not easy to deal with.

In the silence, Master Itsukai silently walked to the bow, gazing into the distance. Everyone followed and, seeing the sea before them, unconsciously stepped back.

The seascape ahead was supremely strange, as if the sky had fallen onto the sea surface, creating towering fog flowers. Seeing such dangerous conditions, with their incomplete sea chart, if they ventured in, they’d surely have to rely on their own exploration. Master Itsukai took a deep breath and looked back at everyone on the ship: “Well, everyone, what are your intentions?”

Everyone looked at each other and fell silent. Master Itsukai said calmly: “Come, let me ask you one by one. A’Ichi, you speak first – are you willing to go in?” In the silence, the “Yan Shōgun” said lightly: “Of course. There’s no place in the world that can stop a ninja.” Master Itsukai smiled: “Such arrogance.” He turned to the Kawano group: “Kawano benefactor, what about you?”

Kawano Yōō shrugged: “Any place with money and beautiful women can’t stop me from entering.” He glanced sideways at A’Ichi and chuckled: “I’m definitely claiming this treasure.”

Master Itsukai smiled: “Good! Worthy of being Ochi descendants – you truly have the spirit of tigers and leopards.” He turned to Ōuchi Yoshiomi: “Ōuchi-kun, your turn.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi swallowed and exchanged glances with his retainers, showing hesitation.

Legend said Dream Sea’s greatest treasure was hidden in “Dream Island,” yet the sea area before them wasn’t some peaceful place but the legendary “Sea of Suffering.”

“The sea of suffering is boundless; turn back and reach the shore” – Chinese ancestors earnestly warned descendants not to come here seeking trouble, lest they regret it. As for Korean sages, they added white snake legends to “Mystery Sea,” presumably also warning people not to rashly enter this place.

Master Itsukai said: “Ōuchi-kun, you’re the shogunate’s first seaman, and this ship is yours. Honestly, if you refuse to come with us, none of us can enter.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi wasn’t ordinary – born in Suō Province, he was a descendant of the Ōuchi clan’s family head, known as the shogunate’s number one helmsman. With his excellent and brilliant ship-handling skills, he’d recently controlled “tally trade.” Whenever Hakata Port merchant ships went to sea, he necessarily led them, showing the shogunate’s deep reliance on him. However, though called a warrior, he was essentially a merchant – no matter how abundant or alluring Dream Sea’s treasures, they weren’t worth trading his life for.

Master Itsukai smiled: “Ōuchi-kun, have you forgotten your great-uncle ‘Yoshihiro’?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s whole body shook violently – suddenly he saw something beyond treasure.

The Suō Ōuchi clan’s family head was “Ōuchi Yoshihiro,” who committed seppuku thirty years ago. During his lifetime, he’d made entering Dream Sea his life’s ambition. Thinking of this, Ōuchi Yoshiomi suddenly gritted his teeth: “Good! For Yoshihiro, I’m willing to go in!” Hearing this, his retainers were greatly alarmed and were about to dissuade him when Master Itsukai stopped them: “Protecting your lord is your duty – don’t be cowards.” Shamed by his words, the Ōuchi family immediately felt deeply ashamed, quickly prostrating themselves and shouting: “Master, forgive us – we understand our error.”

Master Itsukai smiled slightly and bowed: “Since we’re in the same boat, there’s no need for such formality.” Japanese people valued hierarchical distinctions most, yet Master Itsukai went against convention, bowing to subordinates with his status as a “scholarly monk.” The large group of warriors was terrified and prostrated themselves again, their respectful manner coming from sincere hearts.

Ōuchi Yoshiomi walked around the ship and saw the Kawano warship still close alongside the port side, with more than ten small boats following behind – presumably how the “Yan Shōgun” had boarded to strike secretly. His heart was secretly wary, knowing these companions were all dangerous characters. He immediately coughed: “Yōō-kun, Brother A’Ichi, please have your men move your ships away – I need to weigh anchor.”

As they say, each trade has its specialty. Kawano Yōō’s swordsmanship was superb, known as “Living Trial Seven Torsos.” The “Yan Shōgun” was a ninja assassin, appearing and disappearing mysteriously. But once these people came to the open sea, they all had to listen to Ōuchi Yoshiomi. After all, he was the “shogunate’s first seaman” – looking across Japan, no one could match him. Indeed, with one command, neither of the two great warriors dared delay, each ordering their men to move their ships to the outer sea to wait.

Ōuchi Yoshiomi picked up a conch shell and blew mournfully. Immediately the entire ship stirred to life. Footsteps echoed across the deck as more than ten warriors turned iron chains to pull the great iron anchor from the seabed. The four boats ahead heard the command and again took up oars to paddle toward Dream Sea’s depths.

*(Ōei Rebellion: During the Muromachi Shogunate period (after Kamakura Shogunate), serious opposition arose between local daimyo and the shogun. The shogun then was Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, the same shogun from “The Golden Pavilion.” The Ōuchi Yoshihiro mentioned in this book gained merit helping the shogun quell rebellions and became guardian of six provinces including Suō and Nagato. The Ōuchi family’s power greatly increased, causing shogunate displeasure. Under the shogunate’s deliberate provocation, Ōuchi Yoshihiro refused to bear the shogunate’s corvée and rebelled in the sixth year of Ōei (1399), historically known as the Ōei Rebellion. Ōuchi Yoshihiro mobilized forces within his domain while contacting various parties dissatisfied with the shogunate, attempting to overthrow shogunate rule. The Ōei Rebellion ended with complete shogunate victory. Ōuchi Yoshihiro was defeated and committed seppuku, the shogunate’s prestige reached its peak, and the Ōuchi clan became mere guardians of Suō and Nagato provinces.

Later, Ōuchi Yoshihiro’s descendants endured hardships and rose again, reclaiming some lost territory while conquering new lands, becoming the seven-province guardians mentioned in the book.)*

All around was deathly silence as the great ship entered ancient sea routes. Moist water mist immediately enveloped them, completely submerging the deck in water vapor – one couldn’t see their hand before their face. Everyone felt breathing difficulties and their whole bodies became damp. Ōuchi Yoshiomi understood the situation was extremely dangerous and personally took the helm, observing the sea chart while watching conditions, fearing hidden reefs and rocks on the seabed that could break the hull and send everyone to watery graves.

Large fire braziers were lit on the ship, hoping to illuminate the distant sea surface. But the fog was too thick, reflecting and refracting light, only creating a seven-colored halo at the bow like a dream or fantasy. At this moment, except for the ship’s small point of light, all around was endless darkness. Only the quiet lapping of waves against the hull could be heard – nothing else could be seen or heard.

Kawano Yōō chuckled coldly: “Stupid bastard! Worthy of being Dream Sea – the fog is thicker than imagined.” Master Itsukai said softly: “This is actually good. Compared to what I’ve seen before, the fog has thinned considerably.”

The water mist before them was the thickest they’d ever seen in their lives, yet this was considered thin fog. Everyone was bewildered: “Master, have you… have you been inside here before?” Master Itsukai shook his head: “Breaking into Dream Sea is my first time, but every year during the seventh month, this old monk comes to the outer sea area to investigate conditions in Dream Sea.”

Kawano Yōō frowned: “Seventh month? Why the seventh month?”

Master Itsukai said: “On the first day of the seventh month, the ghost gate opens. During Ullambana Festival, Dream Sea’s fog recedes considerably.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi calculated the dates – today was mid-sixth month, approaching the first of the seventh month. He immediately said: “So there’s this principle. It seems Ryukyu fishermen calling this place ‘Mulian Ghost Sea’ is also for this reason?” Master Itsukai sighed: “Exactly. On the first day of the seventh month, the underworld gates open. If Mulian wants to break into hell to save his mother, only these few days are convenient.”

The first day of the seventh month when ghost gates open is precisely Buddhism’s “Ullambana Festival,” also called “Ghost Festival.” According to Buddhist teachings, hell’s gates will open today to release lonely souls and wild ghosts.

Everyone present had bloody hands – not to mention Kawano Yōō’s “Living Trial Seven Torsos” cruelty and bloodthirstiness, just look at that “Yan Shōgun” – how many innocents had he killed serving his daimyo? Thinking of hell’s karmic retribution, everyone couldn’t help feeling secret fear.

After a long while, a warrior said quietly: “Master, are we… are we the first to enter Dream Sea?”

Master Itsukai smiled: “People came here hundreds of years ago.” Everyone was slightly shocked: “Hundreds of years ago? Then… then who was it?” Before Master Itsukai could answer, A’Ichi said coldly: “The person who drew this sea chart.” Everyone understood, just remembering that since this Dream Sea treasure map had long existed in the world, naturally someone had already reached Dream Sea first.

Kawano Yōō mused: “Master, do you know how this Dream Sea treasure map originated?”

Master Itsukai said: “This chart first appeared in ‘Tōshōdaiji Temple.’ Legend says it was found by a young novice, then given to Lady Masako.”

This “Lady Masako” was quite famous – wife of the first Kamakura Shogunate general Minamoto no Yoritomo, known as the “Nun Shogun” after taking Buddhist vows. In Japan, she was known by all. But this “Tōshōdaiji Temple’s” origins puzzled people. Everyone murmured: “Tōshōdaiji… that… that’s…” A’Ichi coldly interrupted: “Monk Jianzhen.”

Everyone suddenly understood, remembering the high monk who built “Tōshōdaiji Temple” – “Monk Jianzhen” from the Central Plains. Kawano Yōō nodded: “So this Dream Sea chart was drawn by Monk Jianzhen, right?”

Master Itsukai coughed, while the “Yan Shōgun” coldly snorted with obvious mockery. Kawano Yōō became somewhat angry, immediately putting his hand to his sword hilt grimly: “What? Did I say something wrong?” Master Itsukai coughed: “Benefactor, did you forget? Monk Jianzhen was blind.”

Kawano Yōō exclaimed, remembering that according to historical records, when Monk Jianzhen crossed the sea eastward to reach Japan during the Heian period, he was nearly seventy and already completely blind. How could a blind man, who could barely write, draw sea charts?

Kawano Yōō knew he’d made a fool of himself and gritted his teeth for a long while before finally turning away: “Forget it.” He sheathed his tachi and was about to say a few words to cover his embarrassment when someone on deck burst into laughter.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” Everyone quickly turned to see the Yan Shōgun looking up and laughing heartily, his voice carrying across the sea, giving the other party no face at all. The way of the warrior valued honor and shame – often one wrong word brought three generations of trouble. Indeed, Kawano Yōō was embarrassed and angry. He took several deep breaths to steady himself before striding forward and saying quietly: “What are you laughing at?”

The Yan Shōgun was still laughing, but this time not wildly – it was cold laughter. Ōuchi Yoshiomi and others watched from the side, all thinking this was bad. Kawano Yōō didn’t ask more questions – since the other party treated him like a dog, there was no need for courtesy. He immediately said: “Ninja, draw your sword.”

Kawano Yōō was seeking a duel – earlier this person had caught him off guard, and he’d long wanted revenge. Now he might as well vent it all. But the Yan Shōgun was supremely arrogant, simply crossing his arms with his back to the enemy, not taking the opponent seriously at all. Kawano Yōō was furious: “Turn around!”

Just as he was about to draw his sword and strike, Master Itsukai coughed: “Benefactor, he’s already turned around.”

Kawano Yōō felt somewhat puzzled – he saw A’Ichi’s head covered in black cloth facing forward, but at the back of his head, light flashed, faintly revealing a pair of long, slanted eyes. Kawano Yōō’s face changed dramatically as he quickly leaped to the side and rolled away.

Everyone was shocked to see this Yan Shōgun appearing arrogantly to have his back to the enemy, when actually he’d already secretly turned around. If Kawano Yōō hadn’t been a veteran of a hundred battles with quick reflexes, when the opponent’s killing move came out, he would surely have been doomed.

Ninja techniques were assassination arts – their strange and terrifying aspects were truly unimaginable to outsiders. Seeing Kawano Yōō rashly seeking a duel, he was bound to invite trouble.

At this time, everyone was together in Dream Sea and should have worked together, but the ship held either bandits or assassins – sooner or later blood would flow like rivers. Ōuchi Yoshiomi wanted to mediate and quickly said: “Master, since Monk Jianzhen was blind, presumably this Dream Sea map wasn’t something he could draw. I wonder how this chart came to be excavated from Tōshōdaiji Temple?” Master Itsukai said: “He was entrusted by an old friend.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was amazed: “Old friend?” Master Itsukai recited aloud: “The Japanese Minister Chōkei departs the imperial capital, his征帆 sails around Penglai in one piece. The bright moon doesn’t return, sinking in the blue sea; white clouds’ sorrowful color fills the green Wu mountains.”

Master Itsukai was omnipotent – not only proficient in Chinese law, but when reciting poetry, his cadence was particularly pleasing to the ear. The others had limited knowledge and didn’t understand Chinese learning, inevitably listening in confusion. Ōuchi Yoshiomi mused: “This ‘Chōkei’ is the old friend you mentioned?”

Master Itsukai said: “Correct. According to historical records, he was the first person to successfully break into Dream Sea.” Everyone was slightly shocked – this sea area before them was “Ghost Sea,” “Mystery Sea,” arguably the world’s most dangerous sea region. Yet someone could come and go freely? Ōuchi Yoshiomi took a deep breath: “So this sea chart was drawn by this person?”

Master Itsukai shook his head: “No.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi was amazed: “Why not?” Master Itsukai said: “The text on that sea chart wasn’t regular script but small seal script.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi silently nodded, knowing regular script was a modern form while small seal script was ancient writing, presumably predating even Jianzhen’s time. He pondered for a long while: “How did this Dream Sea chart originate? Does Master know?”

Master Itsukai shook his head: “This sea chart’s origins have no historical records to verify – like Dream Sea itself, it’s an unsolved mystery. This old monk has repeatedly searched historical materials in recent years and only knows this treasure map was found by ‘Chōkei,’ then entrusted to Jianzhen to bring back to Japan.”

Hearing a cold laugh, everyone turned to see it was Kawano Yōō again. He said: “Listening to your flowery words, if this were true, this ‘Chōkei’ should be greatly famous. Why haven’t I heard his name?”

Master Itsukai said: “Chinese people called ‘Qing’ was an honorific for scholars. This Minister Chōkei’s real name was ‘Chōkō.’ He lived in Chang’an for decades and was quite renowned at the time.” The warriors found “Chōkō” unfamiliar and asked in bewilderment: “Was he also Chinese?” Master Itsukai said: “No, ‘Chōkō’ was Japanese. He left home at sixteen, came to Chang’an, and didn’t resign from office to return until his fifties. The poem you just heard was written by the great Tang poet Li Bai to commemorate him.”

Li Bai, also called “Li Taibai,” known as the Immortal Poet – no one in the world didn’t know him. But they didn’t know when he’d befriended Japanese people. The warriors were completely confused, murmuring and pondering when suddenly they heard Master Itsukai recite: “Bearing the imperial command, he will leave the country; though untalented, he humbly served as minister… His lifelong treasured sword he leaves as a gift to bind friendship.”

The warriors suddenly understood and cried out: “That’s right! Chōkō was the Tang envoy ‘Abe no Nakamaro,’ wasn’t he?”

Master Itsukai smiled: “Correct. It was indeed ‘Abe no Nakamaro.’ He was the first hero to break into Dream Sea.”

Everyone present suddenly understood this “Chōkō’s” background – he was the Tang envoy “Abe no Nakamaro” from Empress Genmei’s era. This man had wide social connections and had composed poetry with great poets like Li Bai and Wang Wei. That line “His lifelong treasured sword he leaves as a gift to bind friendship” was his famous verse given to Wang Wei before returning to Japan.

The warriors had previously heard of the Tang envoy “Chōkō’s” achievements, only knowing he was intelligent and learned, having passed the Chang’an imperial examinations and become an attendant official to the Tang Emperor. But they never expected this man had actually been to Dream Sea and entrusted someone to bring back a sea chart. One person asked quietly: “Master, why did Chōkō enter Dream Sea back then? Was he ordered by someone?”

Master Itsukai said: “Of course. His risking life and limb to enter Dream Sea wasn’t his own idea but by imperial command.” Hearing this, everyone on the ship turned around and said in unison with alarm: “The Imperial Court?”

The words “Imperial Court” had deep meaning – in Japanese mouths, they specifically referred to the Emperor’s line of court nobles and hereditary officials, also called “kuge.” The Shogunate generals were called “buke” to distinguish them from the Kyoto royal family. Kawano Yōō took a deep breath: “The Imperial Court… the Imperial Court also came to Dream Sea seeking treasure?”

Master Itsukai sighed: “Of course. As far as I know, ever since Prince Shōtoku was assassinated, successive emperors, retired emperors, and crown princes have spared no effort, generation after generation sending envoys into Dream Sea, hoping to find those lost treasures. It wasn’t until Empress Genmei’s generation that Chōkō finally succeeded in breaking into Dream Sea.” Hearing of generations advancing one after another into Dream Sea, everyone couldn’t help but be amazed: “What… what were they looking for?”

Master Itsukai was about to answer when suddenly there was a loud “bang!” and someone shouted: “My lord! My lord! Come quickly and see!”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was greatly alarmed and quickly ordered the anchor dropped, then rushed toward the sound. The others – Master Itsukai, the Yan Shōgun, Kawano Yōō, and dozens of warriors – all came to the port side. Looking carefully, they all simultaneously cried “Ah!” and retreated.

Through the thick fog, a rotting mast extended beside the port side – there was actually a sunken ship in the sea that had collided with their vessel.

Seeing the mast swaying precariously, one warrior boldly pushed it gently. With creaking sounds, the mast slowly tilted. Suddenly water splashed on the sea surface with a thunderous crash – the mast had broken in two, one section falling into the sea, the other crashing onto the deck.

The warriors looked at each other in horror and slowly gathered around. The mast section was about five feet long with a thick diameter, but already rotten and broken. They asked quietly: “My lord, whose sunken ship is this? Can you tell?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was the shogunate’s first helmsman – nothing maritime was beyond his grasp, so nothing could stump him. He picked up the mast and examined it repeatedly: “This is a Mongol ship.” Hearing this, everyone was surprised and doubtful: “A Mongol ship? Are you sure?”

“Ōuchi-kun is correct.” Kawano Yōō also crouched over, pointing to the rivets on the mast: “I’ve seen Mongol sunken ships at ‘Takashima.’ Only ships built by Emperor Kublai used rivets of this shape.”

Everyone was stunned – no one expected Kublai’s fleet had also come to “Dream Sea” and sunk here. In the silence, a warrior said tremblingly: “Look… so many ships… so many ships…”

Everyone turned to gaze into the distance and saw through the thick fog, dark shadows everywhere – mast after mast protruding from the sea surface, some upright, some collapsed, some broken. From the ship bottoms came continuous low collision sounds as currents brought countless floating wood pieces. The warriors frantically salvaged them and saw “Mongol warships,” “Tenryūji ships,” “tally trade ships”… remains too numerous to count.

This wasn’t Dream Sea but Ghost Sea – generations of ships had all perished here without exception. Kawano Yōō’s scalp crawled as he said tremblingly: “Master… what exactly… what exactly were they looking for?” Master Itsukai remained silent while the Yan Shōgun answered: “They were looking for Dream Island.” Everyone was bewildered: “What’s on Dream Island?”

The Yan Shōgun said nothing more – perhaps he didn’t want to say, perhaps he himself didn’t understand what was on “Dream Island.”

The warriors looked at each other – at this moment everyone felt something was suspicious, but they couldn’t say exactly what was wrong. In the complete silence, Ōuchi Yoshiomi said quietly: “Master, you… you mentioned earlier that Chōkō successfully broke into Dream Sea, so… what happened next? Did he return to Japan?” Master Itsukai sighed: “What are you really trying to say?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi said quietly: “Did that Chōkō really return to Japan? Why have I never heard of his achievements after returning?”

Hearing this, everyone couldn’t help exclaiming “Eh!” This “Chōkō” was a Tang scholar of great renown – if he had returned to settle in Japan, he would surely have stood alongside Kibi no Makibi and Monk Kūkai. But everyone had only heard of how Chōkō was prominent and successful in China – as for what position he held after returning to Japan, whether he received imperial favor, no one had ever heard mention.

Kawano Yōō murmured: “Yes… since this Dream Sea treasure map was so important, why did Chōkō entrust others to bring it back to Japan? Didn’t he want to claim credit himself?” This question hit the key point – everyone’s hearts sank. This “Dream Sea chart” was so important, yet why did Chōkō entrust Monk Jianzhen to bring it back? In the silence, everyone thought of one thing: perhaps Chōkō never came back.

The more everyone thought, the more afraid they became, feeling this matter was full of suspicious points. After a long while, Master Itsukai sighed: “Very well, since you’ve asked, I won’t hide it. In his fifty-sixth year, Chōkō did indeed leave China, but he never returned to Japan.” Everyone was shocked: “Why? Didn’t he resign and return home? Why didn’t he come back?”

Master Itsukai was silent for a long while: “He encountered a…” He paused and sighed: “Shipwreck.” Everyone was horrified: “Shipwreck?” Master Itsukai said softly: “Yes. In his fifty-sixth year, after Chōkō again broke into ‘Dream Sea,’ he suffered a great shipwreck. When news reached Chang’an, Li Bai heard his old friend had died at sea. Grieving, he wrote a poem to mourn him.”

“The Japanese Minister Chōkei departs the imperial capital, his sail in one piece around Penglai. The bright moon doesn’t return, sinking in the blue sea; white clouds’ sorrowful color fills the green Wu mountains.”

Everyone’s faces changed dramatically, finally understanding why this Tang poem was full of sorrow – “the bright moon doesn’t return, sinking in the blue sea,” “white clouds’ sorrowful color fills the green Wu mountains” – such gloomy clouds and tragic mist were indeed for mourning the dead.

The sea was deathly silent like a graveyard when suddenly Kawano Yōō roared: “Bakā!” His cry carried far like a wounded beast’s dying wail. He grabbed Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s collar and shouted: “Yoshiomi! How did you really get that sea chart? Was it truly passed down from your grandfather?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi struggled hard but couldn’t match his strength, only managing to gasp: “Half… half…”

Kawano Yōō raged: “Nonsense! What do you mean half?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi panted: “This… this chart belonged to my grandfather, but thirty years ago during the ‘Ōei Rebellion,’ it was seized by the shogunate…” Kawano Yōō chuckled: “Who would have thought that a month ago the shogunate sent an envoy to return this chart to you, right?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi murmured: “How… how did you know?” Kawano Yōō released his hands and sighed: “My chart… came the same way…”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s mouth fell open – suddenly everyone realized the same thing: all these gathered heroes had the same reason behind them – the “Shogun” hidden in Muromachi.

The Shogun had always been deep and scheming. Now showing favor to all sides, drawing various masters to Dream Sea one by one – what were his intentions? Everyone was uneasy when the “Yan Shōgun” laughed: “A month ago I heard the Ōuchi clan had approached the Kawano clan, with both families planning to jointly break into Dream Sea. When I learned this, I couldn’t sit still and led my men out of the mountains overnight to pursue them to sea…” He paused and laughed softly: “Master Itsukai, you spread this news, didn’t you?” As he spoke, numerous ninja appeared in the fog, all with covered figures but gleaming weapons – they had already drawn their “shuriken.”

Seeing Master Itsukai’s continued silence, Kawano Yōō put his hand to his sword hilt and with a sharp draw, all the Kawano warriors drew their swords in unison, surrounding Master Itsukai. The “Yan Shōgun” smiled and slowly stepped forward, saying softly: “Itsukai, with our years of friendship, you needn’t hide from me. Speak… you’re from ‘Kinkakuji,’ aren’t you?”

This “Kinkakuji” wasn’t an ordinary Buddhist temple but the retirement place of former Japanese hegemon “Ashikaga Yoshimitsu.” Though the hero was dead, his power remained – contemporary Japanese still referred to the shogunate’s seat of power as “Kinkakuji,” showing the weight of his authority.

Master Itsukai was surrounded with no weapons except a walking stick. If his stick clashed with Kawano Yōō’s tachi, it would immediately break, let alone fighting the unfathomable “Yan Shōgun.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi feared bloodshed and quickly stepped forward to mediate: “Wait, don’t act rashly – let’s talk this through…” Before he finished speaking, Kawano Yōō pulled him aside and raged: “Fool! Don’t you see this is a trap set by ‘Kinkakuji’?”

Unlike other peoples, Japanese had always been competitive by nature. Though this “Dream Sea” was full of strange dangers, it couldn’t frighten them – rather, hundreds of years of accumulated legends had drawn the entire nation to advance one after another, all perishing in the great sea like moths to flame. From this perspective, “Shogun Yoshimasa” was using borrowed knives to kill, wiping out a ship full of political enemies in one net. As for this “Master Itsukai,” he presumably had other arrangements and support, ready to escape at any time.

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was stunned for a long while: “That can’t be – Shogun Yoshimitsu died long ago. Now it’s his grandson ‘Shogun Yoshimasa’ in charge – he’s a good young lord, how could he bear to harm us?” He was about to say more when his retainers surrounded him, crying loudly: “My lord, wake up! Have you forgotten how your great-uncle Yoshihiro died? You must never trust shogunate people!”

Past events serve as lessons for the future. The Ōuchi and Ashikaga clans had old grudges – years ago Ōuchi Yoshihiro was guardian of seven provinces and a shogunate minister, but because he controlled trade power, he attracted Ashikaga Yoshimitsu’s covetousness. It was the shogunate’s long-term oppression that finally caused the “Ōei Rebellion.” With such bloody lessons before them, how could they not be vigilant?

The Ashikaga clan had always been skilled at scheming – even though Ashikaga Yoshimitsu was dead, they still couldn’t let their guard down. All the warriors came from Suō, Nagato and other places, all multi-generational Ōuchi retainers. Now with protective hearts, they earnestly advised, fearing he would again fall into a trap.

The killing intent was thick as everyone waited for Master Itsukai to speak. He sighed deeply: “You’re right – I am from ‘Kinkakuji.’ From youth to old age, I’ve always followed Shogun Yoshimitsu.” Kawano Yōō sneered: “Even monkeys fall from trees. Master Itsukai, you’ve worked hard designing this deception.”

Master Itsukai sighed: “Everyone has misunderstood. Though this old monk is from the shogunate, gathering you all to enter Dream Sea this time is truly sincere, with absolutely no intention of harm.” Kawano Yōō sneered: “Truly sincere? Don’t tell me you really invited us to seek treasure?” Master Itsukai said quietly: “Correct.” Just as Kawano Yōō was about to curse, the “Yan Shōgun” raised his hand to stop him and said quietly: “Speak – what exactly is in Dream Sea?” Master Itsukai said: “Something Japan has lost.”

There was hidden meaning – everyone was amazed and speechless. The Yan Shōgun said: “What have we lost?” Master Itsukai sighed: “Peace.”

“Peace?” Everyone looked at each other and laughed: “At this point you still want to seek peace?”

“Silence! I mean…” Master Itsukai shouted: “Yamato!” Kawano Yōō roared: “Stupid bastard!” He drew his sword and slashed. Master Itsukai’s eyes bulged with fury as he also raised his walking stick to strike upward. Warriors on both sides cried out, and along with the “Yan Shōgun’s” ninja subordinates, everyone charged forward to chop him to pieces.

With a tremendous crash, Kawano Yōō seemed to have struck something, creating endless sparks. Suddenly everyone heard low Buddhist sounds in their ears. In the humming, one person flew out and crashed to the ground – it was Kawano Yōō! Looking around, all the bladed weapons were gone – whether mountain ninja or town warriors, everyone’s hands were empty, their faces full of terror.

Hum, hum, hum, hum, hum… Low empty sounds came from the deck, sounding like Buddhist chanting. Master Itsukai surveyed the heroes and slowly raised his walking stick, inserting it into the fire brazier at the bow.

The roaring flames illuminated a Buddha’s halo. The walking stick’s original color was like black jade, but under the fierce fire’s pressure, it actually showed blood-dissolving colors, then flashed with a line of Chinese sword inscription: “Valley Spirit Dark Female.”

The warriors’ mouths fell open as they knelt one by one, saying tremblingly: “North Scabbard…”

“The valley spirit never dies – this is called the dark female.” The most mysterious magic sword in Japanese history was the “North Scabbard” before them! Legend said this sword was made incorrectly, born without a blade and unable to kill, but no weapon could harm it either. Even striking with iron hammers couldn’t damage it. Thus it was called the “Dark Female Sword,” reputed to subdue all fierce weapons in the world.

Master Itsukai shouted: “Do you understand? What is the shogunate seeking?”

The warriors were dejected yet their hearts were clear – they knew the shogunate had mobilized great forces to come here all for finding that legendary supreme divine object: the “South Sword.”

“South Sword” and “North Scabbard” – these were the two great legends deep in warrior hearts. It was said the “North Scabbard” was born empty without a blade, able to subdue all killing weapons, hence named “dark female.” The “South Sword” was the exact opposite – it was the bloodiest killing sword in Japanese history, born with chaotic nature, killing everything. Any object approaching within half a foot of its blade would spontaneously break and split apart. Because of such cruelty, the “South Sword” earned a terrifying nickname – the “Homeless Sword.” It couldn’t find a compatible scabbard, having no place to rest, so could only use blood as its sheath, killing endlessly until it had “killed a million people.”

“South Sword,” “North Scabbard” – though Ōuchi Yoshiomi had heard legends of these two items, he’d always thought “South Sword North Scabbard” was merely a metaphor for describing contradictory things. After all, the “South Sword” killed everything, reportedly able to cut all things in the world, while the “North Scabbard” was indestructible with nothing in heaven or earth able to harm it. These two items’ natures were completely opposed, like the world’s “spear” and “shield” – fundamentally unable to be self-consistent. How could they exist simultaneously in the world?

But the legend was true, because the rumored “North Scabbard” was right before them. In the complete silence, Master Itsukai quietly chanted Buddha’s name, holding the black jade precious scabbard level to his chest. One after another, warriors knelt and bowed to that “North Scabbard.”

The “North Scabbard” was made of unknown material – though burned by fierce flames, it showed no heat. Master Itsukai held it with no discomfort. The “Yan Shōgun” took a deep breath and bowed: “Master, I wronged you. Please forgive my rudeness.” Master Itsukai smiled: “What else can I do if I don’t forgive you? Make you commit seppuku in apology?” He helped the “Yan Shōgun” up with kind and pleasant expression.

This Master Itsukai differed from warrior style – he was humorous without airs. Everyone secretly breathed relief: “Master, how… how do you have this ‘North Scabbard’? Was it… was it given to you by the shogunate?” Master Itsukai smiled slightly: “Correct, this was given to me by Shogun Yoshimasa. He instructed this old monk to accompany your lord to Dream Sea. Because this journey is extremely dangerous, he gave me the ‘North Scabbard’ beforehand for protection.”

The world’s bloodiest demon sword was the “Homeless Sword” – presumably only the “North Scabbard” could resist its fierce flames. Everyone stared blankly at the dark “North Scabbard” and murmured: “Master, does… does the ‘South Sword’ really exist in this world?” “Of course it does.” Master Itsukai said lightly: “If you don’t believe it, go to ‘Yoshino’ and ask some old people. As long as you mention the ‘South Sword,’ they’ll ask back whether the ‘North Scabbard’ really exists in this world.”

“Yoshino” – the warriors looked at each other in amazement: “You… you mean the ‘Southern Court of Yoshino’?” Master Itsukai smiled: “Correct, the Southern Court of Yoshino Mountain. That’s where the ‘South Sword’ last appeared.” The warriors were greatly shocked: “Where it last appeared? Then… then where did the ‘South Sword’ go?”

Master Itsukai gazed at the vast sea fog and sighed softly. The warriors suddenly realized – the “South Sword” was in Dream Sea.

Japan had always had only one court, located in Kyoto’s Muromachi district. But for the past sixty years, “Yoshino” had created another court to rival Kyoto. But what connection did this have with “South Sword North Scabbard”? The more Kawano Yōō thought, the more puzzled he became, asking quietly: “Master, how… how did this ‘North Scabbard’ fall into shogunate hands? Could you tell us?”

Master Itsukai smiled and took the “Yan Shōgun’s” hand, saying calmly: “Ōuchi-kun, please drop anchor – I have a few words to say to everyone.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi was delighted, knowing he wanted to speak privately. He quickly summoned a warrior, whispered instructions, then gestured for everyone to follow him to the inner cabin.

Inside the cabin was a tea table by the window with grass mats on the floor, like ordinary home furnishings. Ōuchi Yoshiomi knew Master Itsukai’s status was extremely high and knelt respectfully without moving. Master Itsukai sat cross-legged like an ordinary monk.

In the complete silence, Master Itsukai said softly: “Ōuchi-kun, may this old monk ask you something?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi quickly said: “I wouldn’t dare – being able to answer Master’s inquiry is my honor.” Master Itsukai smiled: “You needn’t be polite. I only want to ask – in your childhood, did you ever hear legends of ‘South Sword North Scabbard’?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi swallowed: “Yes, when I was seven years old.” Master Itsukai smiled: “Who told you? Was it your great-uncle ‘Ōuchi Yoshihiro’?”

“Ōuchi Yoshihiro” was the great patriarch of the entire Suō Ōuchi clan, called “Lord Yoshihiro.” This man had once betrayed the shogunate and raised rebellion in the “Ōei Rebellion.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi said sadly: “Master is correct. Lord Yoshihiro once enlightened us – he… he said ‘South Sword North Scabbard’ involved Japan’s military fortune. If someone could simultaneously master these two divine instruments, they could end the warrior chaos and unify all Japan…” He paused and hastily asked: “Master, was he… was he right?”

Master Itsukai smiled slightly and said no more. Ōuchi Yoshiomi didn’t dare ask further – thinking of his clan’s grudges with the shogunate, he became even more nervous.

The four sat facing each other. Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s heart pounded – first, he didn’t know what he’d said wrong; second, he didn’t understand the “North Scabbard’s” connection to the shogunate; and third, he didn’t know why the “South Sword” would be hidden in Dream Sea. His mind was full of countless doubts awaiting resolution. Not daring to speak rashly, he brought a charcoal stove and silently boiled tea.

Everything around was hazy with water vapor – even the cabin couldn’t escape. When Ōuchi Yoshiomi boiled tea, the cabin’s water mist grew thicker and extremely stuffy. He opened the window, and immediately icy cold fog rushed in, making him shiver and close it again. Master Itsukai smiled slightly: “This Dream Sea is truly strange, isn’t it?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi didn’t dare speak much, only pouring hot tea and respectfully offering it. Master Itsukai said: “Ōuchi-kun, do you know why Shogun Yoshimasa sent you to Dream Sea?”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was slightly stunned: “Isn’t… isn’t it because I know seamanship?” Master Itsukai smiled: “Ōuchi-kun’s seamanship is certainly one reason. But Shogun Yoshimasa has another reason for bringing you.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s heart sank: “Please instruct me, Master.”

Master Itsukai lifted his teacup and sipped lightly: “Your surname is Ōuchi.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi was amazed: “Ōuchi?” Master Itsukai said calmly: “Correct. Precisely because you’re from the Ōuchi family, Shogun Yoshimasa specifically named you to accompany this old monk into Dream Sea.”

Kawano Yōō pointed to himself in amazement: “Then… then what about me?” Master Itsukai said lightly: “You and the Yan Shōgun are the same – you’re escorts for this journey, protecting Ōuchi-kun’s safety.”

Hearing this, Ōuchi Yoshiomi trembled, not knowing what was important about himself. He prostrated again. Master Itsukai smiled and opened the window a crack, looking toward Dream Sea outside: “Ōuchi-kun, do you know what Koreans call this sea area?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi coughed: “Mystery Sea.”

Master Itsukai smiled: “Correct. Do you know why Koreans never came to solve the mystery?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi shook his head, indicating confusion. Master Itsukai smiled: “Because they believed the Chinese explanation.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was stunned: “Master means…” Master Itsukai smiled: “Do you know what Chinese people call this sea area?” Ōuchi Yoshiomi’s heart sank: “Sea of Suffering.” As soon as he spoke, he understood: “Master means… Koreans didn’t dare come unveil the mystery because they feared bringing suffering upon themselves?”

Master Itsukai said: “Correct. Korea is deeply influenced by Chinese Confucian teaching and learned to suppress themselves like Chinese people, always viewing this sea area as taboo. But we Japanese are different – for the past seven hundred years, our entire nation has firmly believed this sea area must hide a secret treasure capable of reversing Japan’s national fortune. Therefore we call it ‘Dream Sea’ – to encourage descendants to take risks and face difficulties, no matter how many people sacrifice, to solve this mystery.”

Ōuchi Yoshiomi was moved, finally understanding the profound meaning of “Dream Sea.” He quickly said: “So Chōkō also came to solve this mystery?” Master Itsukai smiled: “Correct. Since the Asuka period, successive court nobles and warriors, retired emperors and emperors have all competed to send people to Dream Sea. The purpose was to find this treasure passed down through generations.” Ōuchi Yoshiomi quickly asked: “Then… then did they find it?”

Master Itsukai said: “They found it, but only found half.” As he spoke, he removed the “North Scabbard” and placed it on the mat. Immediately Kawano Yōō, Ōuchi Yoshiomi, and the “Yan Shōgun” all became tense.

Kawano Yōō swallowed and unconsciously reached out to touch the “North Scabbard.” Master Itsukai smiled: “Kawano-kun, can you read the Sanskrit on the scabbard?”

Kawano Yōō quickly withdrew his hand and laughed dryly: “Sorry, I… I was rude.” Master Itsukai said calmly: “No need to worry. I’ve studied the ‘North Scabbard’ for thirty years on Shogun Yoshimitsu’s orders. If you have any unique insights, this old monk would gladly learn from you.”

Kawano Yōō coughed and carefully received the “North Scabbard.” Suddenly his hands sank down – the North Scabbard actually fell. This empty scabbard was so heavy that without careful attention, one couldn’t hold it steady.

The “Yan Shōgun” took a deep breath and caught the “North Scabbard” in mid-air, his arms not wavering at all. Everyone watching secretly applauded. He raised the scabbard to his eyes and saw four characters inscribed on the body: “Valley Spirit Dark Female,” with Sanskrit text covering the rest, front and back alike.

Fog filled the cabin, making everything blurry, yet the legendary North Scabbard was before them. Everyone peered by weak lamplight and saw it was dark black, with countless blood-gold Sanskrit characters carved on the scabbard body. Looking at the scabbard mouth, it emitted a faint red glow – both bloody and sacred, indescribable. Ōuchi Yoshiomi watched from the side and slowly drew his “wakizashi” from his waist, trying to insert it into the scabbard mouth to test the fit. Suddenly Master Itsukai angrily shouted: “Stop!”