Chapter 165: Are You Trying to Humiliate Me with Money?
Chapter 165: Are You Trying to Humiliate Me with Money?
Etsuzin Shrine.
The name sounded vaguely suggestive, though not in any indecent way.
Minamoto no Yorimitsu’s mother founded the Etsuzin Minamoto clan. He himself inherited the Tada territory in Etsuzin, with his descendants becoming known as the “Etsuzin Minamoto.”
That’s how the shrine got its name.
Fang Cheng initially thought the shrine’s name held special significance, but online research left him thoroughly disappointed.
The day after meeting the boss lady, he visited Etsuzin Shrine hoping to find anti-vampire items.
The mountain foot parking lot stood empty, suggesting poor business for this shrine.
After parking, Fang Cheng passed through the towering red torii and climbed the long stone staircase.
Reaching the main approach, he found faded lanterns flanking several weathered buildings.
“Wasn’t this place supposed to be popular? Did I take a wrong turn?”
Fang Cheng pulled out his phone to check the informational post he’d found during last night’s research.
Originally insignificant among Area 11’s estimated 100,000 shrines, Etsuzin Shrine had followed common provincial practices – either enshrining random animals and rocks or piggybacking on historical figures.
This shrine had awkwardly tried capitalizing on Minamoto no Yorimitsu’s legacy without success.
Its fortunes temporarily changed when an exceptionally beautiful shrine maiden appeared, her fame drawing even local politicians and creating brief popularity.
Fang Cheng had rushed here after seeing her photos, though his expectations now crumbled as he compared the post’s vibrant descriptions with the decaying shrine before him.
The discrepancy reminded him of false advertising comparisons.
Scrolling to the post’s header revealed its 2007 publication date.
“Holy crap, this thing’s over a decade old!”
He cursed Area 11’s unchanged network interfaces for hiding the timeline. His hopes of seeing the beauty vanished – any remaining shrine maiden would now be middle-aged.
Stuffing his phone away, Fang Cheng approached the worship hall.
Instead of beauties or matrons, only a shrine-keeping old man swept the floors.
Spotting Fang Cheng, the caretaker’s face lit up like a parched desert traveler finding water: “Customer! Here to worship?”
The man’s enthusiasm faltered when noticing Fang Cheng’s outfit – a new internet-purchased tee featuring multiple girls with rolled-back eyes and protruding tongues.
This God’s Brush masterpiece reproduction, specially designed for Akheyan enthusiasts, had seemed like a good idea when ordered weeks earlier.
The flustered old man recovered after a beat, hastily directing Fang Cheng toward the purification water trough.
When Fang Cheng dropped his offering money into the box, he pulled out a stack of bills from his wallet that made the old man’s eyes bulge, a grin spreading across his face.
But that grin stiffened when Fang Cheng sorted through the cash, plucked out a single coin, and tossed it in instead.
After bowing, Fang Cheng asked, “Old man, can I see the main hall?”
The shrine keeper straightened solemnly. “The main hall’s closed today.”
Fang Cheng pressed a bill into his palm.
“But for such a devoted guest… we’ll make an exception.”
The main hall housed the shrine’s sacred relics. Following the old man inside, Fang Cheng found himself staring at a crude clay statue of Minamoto no Yorimitsu – less impressive than the gleaming samurai sword displayed beside it.
“That’s the legendary Child-Cutting Ankan, right?” Fang Cheng jerked his chin at the blade. “Actually works against undead monsters?”
The old man puffed up like a proud rooster. “Even the Countermeasures Department borrowed it before! Slayed evil spirits with their own hands!”
Fang Cheng’s pulse quickened. So this rundown shrine did have something useful. He flashed his ID. “Funny story – I’m with the Countermeasures Department too. We need to borrow this again.”
“Again?!” The shrine keeper’s face purpled. “Last time you brats nearly chipped the blade! Out! OUT!”
Bony hands shoved at Fang Cheng’s chest – uselessly.
“Easy, gramps. I’ll pay.”
“Think money solves everything?!”
“Ten thousand. One night.”
“This sword’s been in my family for–” The old man froze. “How much?”
Twenty minutes later, Fang Cheng counted bills into the keeper’s trembling hands. The man suddenly straightened Fang Cheng’s collar with solemn care. “Our sacred blade deserves to smite evil, not gather dust. You’ll… treat her well?”
Fang Cheng blinked. The old coot practically glowed with noble resolve. What a con artist.
Not that he cared. Between the million yen from that spider monster nest and Kanzaki Rin covering his expenses, ten grand felt like toilet paper. Hell, he’d bill the shrine visit as work expenses later.
His fingers closed around the sword hilt–
A second hand slapped over his.
Fang Cheng whirled to find a smirking guy in his twenties leaning against the pillar. Worse – the idiot wore the same limited-edition Akheyan T-shirt from doujin artist God’s Brush. No wonder the keeper had side-eyed his clothes earlier.
“Junior,” the stranger drawled, “that’s my sword.”
Fang Cheng kept his grip tight. “Saw it first? What’s next – claiming the sun? Hand over a million and maybe I’ll let you touch it.”
The guy barked a laugh. “Tenfold markup? Ruthless.” He snapped his fingers at the shrine keeper. “Grandpa Minamoto. I’ll handle this.”
Fang Cheng watched, incredulous, as the old man scurried out like a chastened mouse. Oh. Nepotism. Fantastic.