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On the rear hill outside the village stood a shrine. When a hatamoto had once stationed his troops nearby, he took over the shrine as his residence, driving away all the miko and shinkan staying there. Since then, the shrine has been abandoned.
But now, there was firelight flickering within the shrine. A group of men had torn up parts of the wooden floor, split them into firewood, and lit a bonfire. They sat around it, roasting meat and laughing loudly.
Judging from their attire—crude, battered armor—it was clear these were not ordinary bandits. They were more likely deserters who had turned to banditry.
People feared vicious men, and so did ghosts. When bloodlust was strong enough, even ordinary spirits dared not approach.
These bandits did not fear zombies either. After all, the blades and spears in their hands were not just for show.
In the corner of the shrine was a young girl with a delicate face. Her clothing was disheveled, exposing patches of pale skin. Her hands and feet were tied with rope, and her mouth was stuffed with a dirty rag, leaving her completely immobile.
As they ate, the deserters occasionally...
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