"Devouring a mid-tier yōkai's Fang Blade only increased my yōki slightly. In fact, the gain isn't even equal to five days of my natural growth."
"Still, in terms of quality and combat effectiveness, the improvement is considerable."
Tōga set aside the Fang Blade that had been reduced to nothing but a hilt. In the sealed chamber, his bangs lifted on their own without a trace of breeze, stirred by the surge of power within him.
A newly-born current of wind-aspected yōki flowed like a living thing through his meridians, pooling at his fingertips before condensing into golden sword-light—the Kaze no Kizu [Wind Scar].
His control over yōki had reached a state of utter precision—he could release or restrain it at will, as naturally as moving an arm. The strength of the Wind Scar now bent entirely to his intent.
It was not that the Wind Scar could only be unleashed through the Tessaiga. Rather, it was because of him that the Tessaiga could manifest such a technique at all.
The Tessaiga's true role was to magnify Tōga's own power—one measure of force made to strike as two.
The Wind Scar's energy form relied on yōki as its medium, resonating with the "wind currents" of the world through one's body or blade, creating multiple intersecting vacuums.
Its essence was a spatial resonance that tore open the seams of reality itself, using the opponent's own demonic aura as an "ignition fuse" to track and cut the target.
In the original tale, Inuyasha's first Wind Scar depended on the gaps in the enemy's aura. When fluctuations appeared in their demonic field, the Wind Scar could slip in along those gaps, like a blade cleaving cloth.
Tōga, however, required no such conditions. With a mere wave of his hand, even his Sō'unga-like Sankon Tessō could transform into five strikes of the Wind Scar.
"Wind-aspected yōki and the Wind Scar truly complement each other. I should keep refining it, strengthening its force step by step."
He blew out the golden sword-light at his fingertip and moved to his desk, resuming his cultivation journal.
He defined his own demonic essence as Senrō Yōki—the Power of All Things, the Force of All Phenomena.
After devouring wind-aspected yōki, he felt his Senrō Yōki had risen in its very nature, as though another step had been added beneath his feet, allowing him to stand higher.
And with this greater base of Senrō Yōki, he could refine wind-aspected energy of far purer quality, approaching the level of a high-tier yōkai.
With this specialized augmentation, the Wind Scar's power leapt forward.
If he were to go all out, then compared with the Dog Clan's Third Elder, Ziyan, he would already be no weaker than an ordinary high-class yōkai—so long as his yōki held out.
In the Western Lands, Tōga had now achieved the first real measure of strength to act without restraint.
At that thought, his pen stilled. Closing his eyes, he focused inward on his spiritual force.
It was difficult to say whether, in that struggle of wills with the Fang Blade's lingering consciousness, his own spirit had grown stronger.
The gulf between mid-class and high-class yōkai lay in one thing above all: the spirit.
"The devouring of another's yōki essence triggers a clash of wills. That must help temper the spirit."
"When Kujaku returns with the hearts of the Panther Devas, I can conduct further trials."
"After that, I'll have the thirty-some mid-class dog-demons of the clan. That will be enough fuel to drive my strength forward like a charging boar."
His plan was meticulous. He would start by devouring lifeless objects.
Then move on to corpses freshly slain.
Finally, he would attempt living beings.
Through this sequence, he would uncover what different targets yielded in effect.
For clan members, only a little blood would be needed—though the required amount remained uncertain.
The Fang Blades left in the treasury, he intended to exchange entirely for merit and take them for himself.
Better that they serve to strengthen him than gather dust on display.
As for experiments with devouring living beings, he could reserve those for any fools among the countless stray monsters roaming the world.
As for high-class yōkai, he would wait. Mid-class alone already forced him to furrow his brow—devouring a high-class might wring sweat from him yet.
Only when a pang of hunger twisted his belly did a satisfied Tōga leave the secret chamber.
The sun had already vanished, replaced by a bright, cold moon.
"Another day to jot down complaints about the Dog General," he muttered, scribbling in his small notebook.
Without his not-yet-wed little bride to cook for him, Tōga shoveled down a few mouthfuls of food, then hurried back into seclusion to refine his unique gift of bestowing yōki.
Unnoticed, two days slipped by.
Far away, at Wind and Thunder Gorge, outside the main hall of the Crow Tengu—the Raimei-den [Hall of Thunder]…
The Crow Tengu chieftain, An'umaru, spread his black wings taut like drawn bows beneath storm clouds, arcs of violet lightning crawling across his feathers, his pupils quivering.
Opposite him, the Leopard Cat Tribe's Third Elder coiled his tail tightly around the neck of An'umaru's son. The boy's purpled, agonized face and pleading eyes made An'umaru's throat tighten, killing intent blazing in his gaze.
"Third Elder, do you truly mean to drag us both down into ruin?"
The ambush was plain. An'umaru had just returned from the barracks at Wind and Thunder Gorge to the Raimei-den, leaving the Leopard Cat Elder unwatched to march in boldly.
Now the invader had stormed his barracks, slaughtered freely, and seized his son—then stood flaunting that triumph before his own hall!
The face of the Crow Tengu was being ground into the dirt.
"Heh. 'Drag down into ruin'? You think yourselves worthy?" the Leopard Cat Elder scoffed.
Brought here by the Sixth Elder to showcase the Leopard Cat Tribe's might, the Third Elder had no regard for these tengu.
Were they iron-boned, or merely wavering reeds? Their refusal to yield Wind and Thunder Gorge only proved they hid some secret here.
So when the Sixth Elder proposed exploring the Crow Tengu's domain and demanding their clan's treasure, the two elders had struck agreement instantly.
"Hand over the Storm Wings, or watch your son charred to ash by lightning."
The Leopard Cat Elder's tail squeezed, sparks erupting in a searing arc. The young tengu shrieked in agony.
Under all eyes, An'umaru's gaze hardened to ice.
Everyone present knew the truth:
If he yielded the Storm Wings, his strength would collapse, falling from high-class yōkai to something lesser.
And without a high-class champion, the Crow Tengu would soon be swept into history by the Leopard Cat Tribe.
For the sake of his people, he had but one path.
"I am not only this boy's father—I am the patriarch of the Crow Tengu!"
A deep thunder rumbled in his chest. His fused azure Storm Wings flared, stormwinds howling across the gorge.
"All warriors, form ranks! We meet the enemy head-on!"