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The night draped its heavy darkness across the land, as if the heavens themselves had fallen silent.
The horses marched onward in a slow, weary line, their hooves kicking up faint clouds of dust illuminated only by the flickering lamplight.
At the head of the line rode Tanjiro, his silhouette steady and unyielding. Behind him, the others followed — their bodies aching, their minds dulled by two relentless days without proper sleep.
The weight of exhaustion pressed on them like a second saddle.
Breaking the long silence, Ichigo leaned forward in his saddle and spoke, his voice low but firm.
"I think we need rest."
Tanjiro, without looking back, answered,
"I think so too."
Without another word, they turned their horses toward the faint lights of a small village nestled along the roadside — a village governed under the rule of the Samurai Association.
As they approached, the villagers gathered warily, lanterns in hand, their faces etched with suspicion.
When Tanjiro politely asked for shelter and food, the village head, a stout and cautious man, shook his head and said coldly,
"We do not offer aid to strangers. Turn back."
Before tension could escalate, Nobee stepped forward, his voice slicing through the chilly night air like a blade.
"Be attentive!" he commanded.
"I am Nobee, General of the Samurai Association. And these two beside me are none other than the Chiefs of the Ninja and Samurai Associations themselves!"
The village head froze.
A visible shiver ran through his body, and a cold bead of sweat slid down the back of his ear.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, bowing so low his forehead brushed the dirt.
"Forgive me! I had no idea— please, you honor us with your presence!" he stammered.
Ichigo watched this unfold with a strange stirring in his chest.
Tanjiro... he thought, Just the mention of his name can summon fear deeper than any sword could carve.
And then, a sharper, quieter realization crept into his mind:
I have never truly witnessed Tanjiro's power for myself... and yet the world trembles at his shadow.
If I have yet to understand my own strength... how could I ever claim to measure the strength of others?
The heavy darkness of the night slowly faded as the first pale light of dawn spread across the horizon.
The village awoke to the sound of hooves being readied, but Tanjiro's group was already preparing for departure. The cool morning breeze carried the scent of dew and distant mountains.
Standing tall before the gathered villagers, Ichigo stepped forward, his voice commanding yet calm.
"Bring the village head here," he ordered.
The head of the village, still humbled by the previous night, approached with his gaze lowered in deep respect.
Ichigo spoke clearly:
"From here, we will continue our journey on foot. I am giving you an important task — take all our horses and deliver them safely to the Ninja King's palace."
The village head immediately bowed low, his voice trembling with gratitude.
"My lord... It is my greatest honor. I swear I will carry out your command faithfully, even at the cost of my life."
Without further ceremony, the group slung their weapons over their shoulders and set out on foot, leaving behind the sleepy village that had glimpsed, for a brief moment, the faces of legends.
Hours passed.
The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows on the dusty road.
The rhythm of marching feet echoed in the quiet morning.
Finally, Raiden broke the silence.
Turning toward Ichigo, he asked,
"What is our next move?"
Ichigo didn't hesitate. His eyes, sharp and steady, gazed toward the distant mountains where a new enemy awaited.
"We infiltrate the Mongol Empire," he said.
"We'll pose as a group of traders. Gather information. Understand their strength, their weaknesses."
He paused, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword.
"And if the time comes to draw steel," he added, his voice low and certain, "we will not hesitate."
The group exchanged looks — a mixture of tension and determination.
The real war was just beginning, and the path ahead would demand not only strength, but wisdom, courage, and an iron will.
The sun blazed high overhead as Ichigo, Tanjiro, Raiden, Hyro, Nobee, Rokuro, and Matsuya gathered near a quiet riverbank, just beyond the last village under Samurai Association control.
They stood in a tight circle, their old uniforms folded neatly in a pile between them — symbols of the warriors they had to leave behind, at least for now.
Ichigo's voice broke the silence:
"From this moment on, we are no longer samurai, ninjas, or generals. We are humble traders — cloth merchants seeking new business across the borders."
One by one, they changed into simple, rugged travel clothes — loose shirts, worn cloaks, faded trousers, and leather sandals.
Their faces were dusted with dirt and ash to mask the sharpness of their features. Their proud armor and flashing weapons were carefully hidden inside large, battered luggage bags strapped to their backs and horses.
Matsuya, adjusting the strap on his bag, chuckled under his breath.
"Never thought I'd see the day when I carried my sword next to rolls of cloth and pottery."
Rokuro grinned.
"Better to look poor and boring than to draw Mongol arrows to our chests."
Nobee checked his disguise carefully, then tied a dull scarf around his neck to hide the tell-tale scars of battle.
Hyro, the youngest among them, practiced a limp to seem weaker than he really was.
When they were ready, Tanjiro took a long breath and tightened the knot on his travel bag.
His calm, steady presence gave strength to them all.
Ichigo looked over his team — seven warriors who had crossed seas of blood to stand here today.
He nodded once, solemnly.
"We move out."
The group walked side by side along the dusty path that led to the Mongol Empire's first border checkpoint.
Ahead, the banners of the Mongols fluttered in the wind. Armored guards paced the roads. Traders bustled about, bartering and shouting prices.
They were entering enemy territory — where one wrong word could mean death.
But none of them hesitated.
Their minds were steel.
Their purpose was clear.
They would blend into the Mongol Empire like shadows in the market...
and when the time was right, the shadows would strike.
The dirt road narrowed as they approached the Mongol border checkpoint.
Thick wooden stakes lined the path like broken teeth, and a crude barrier of sharpened logs blocked the way forward. Mongol banners whipped fiercely in the wind above the checkpoint, red and black against the pale morning sky.
Four Mongol soldiers stood guard.
Their armor was heavy, their helmets low, faces shadowed beneath cruel iron visors.
Their hands rested lazily on their swords, but their eyes — sharp, predator's eyes — missed nothing.
The air felt heavier, tighter.
"Stay calm," Ichigo whispered under his breath. "We are simple traders. Fear will betray you faster than a sword."
The seven of them slowed their pace and stepped into line behind a group of merchants arguing loudly with the guards over taxes.
When it was their turn, a scar-faced guard stepped forward, eyeing them suspiciously.
He jabbed a thick finger at Ichigo's heavy bag.
"What's in there?" he barked in a harsh accent.
Ichigo bowed slightly, playing the humble merchant.
"Cloth, pottery, spices, and a little hope, good sir," he said with a faint, weary smile.
The guard grunted.
"Hope won't pay your tax."
Another guard circled behind them, peering over their worn clothes and battered sandals, searching for any sign of steel or hidden threat.
For a heartbeat, the guard's gaze lingered on Raiden's bag — the one hiding a folded halberd.
Ichigo's heart beat once, loud in his chest.
But then Tanjiro, quick as ever, coughed loudly and stumbled forward, pretending to trip over a stone.
The guards laughed at the clumsy 'merchant'.
The tension broke.
"Fools," the scar-faced one muttered. He motioned lazily.
"Go on. But mind yourselves. Mongol land is not kind to strangers."
"We are grateful, honored sirs," Ichigo said with a deep bow.
Without another word, they passed through the checkpoint.
Once they were out of earshot, hidden by the bustling crowds beyond, Nobee let out a low breath.
"That was close," he muttered.
"Too close," Hyro added, adjusting his heavy pack on his shoulders.
Ichigo didn't look back. His eyes stayed forward, locked onto the sprawling marketplace ahead — a city alive with noise, trade, secrets, and dangers.
"Remember," he said quietly. "We are shadows now. Speak little. Listen much. When the time comes... we will be ready."
And so the seven disappeared into the Mongol Empire —
traders on the surface...
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