Lu Bu, the Thunder General, is my adoptive father in Genshin Impact.

Even though the people of Narukami Island don't recognize him, Sangokiya has also sent players to participate in the competition. If they push Sangokiya too far and they lose all face, they will directly expose the fact that Miyamoto Jiro escaped from prison. In the end, the one who will suffer is Miyamoto himself.

As a result, Miyamoto Jiro's luck was off the charts. A battle maniac suddenly appeared and caused trouble, scaring all the Sango Miyamoto players away from participating. This allowed him to compete for the championship with full force.

Miyajiro said confidently, "Once I win the championship and climb to the top of Inazuma, I'll let you benefit from it too. I've seen you and the eldest daughter of the Kamisato family exchanging glances. Once I get you a high-ranking position in the shogunate, you won't have to worry about your status anymore and you'll be able to marry her properly."

Xiao Yi's thoughts began to become confused.

"Huh? When did I start flirting with Ayaka? Big brother, I always feel like you've misunderstood, and you've been misunderstanding ever since that time you freeloaded a meal."

That being said, given his current status, he can marry whomever he wants, except for General Raiden.

Xiao Yi suddenly remembered something that he found very strange.

“The problem is, I remember you really hated Thor,” Xiao Yi said, puzzled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who would abandon your principles for power.”

(Shadow joins the chat room: I think I hear someone hates me...)

After a long silence with a solemn expression, Miyamoto Jiro asked slowly in a hoarse voice, "Mr. Xiao, would you like to hear about my experiences? Do you want to know why I despise the gods?"

(Xiao Yi, Ying: thought.)

Xiao Yi didn't speak, but nodded slowly.

Miyamoto Jiro looked up at the sky with a solemn expression, but being deep in the alley, no matter how he looked up, he could only see a long strip of blue light.

“I was born in a village on Ba Yun Island. My parents were honest farmers whose life principle was very simple: to work hard to farm, survive, and raise their children.”

"Life should have continued peacefully until the outbreak of the plague and the villains it bred..."

Chapter 38 The Filthy Flames

The blinding flames illuminated the pitch-black night, and murky black smoke enveloped the remote village. The pungent, acrid smell that followed was nauseating—the smell of burning wood, burning cloth, and the burning of the living and the dead.

Everything outside was ablaze, and the entire village was in chaos. However, in the village temple, which was not yet on fire, an eleven-year-old boy staggered to the statue of a god.

The boy had a cloth bag hanging around his neck, inside which was a sleeping baby.

He glared angrily at the solemn statue.

The statue was made of ceramic. The hardworking villagers saved money and used the best pigments to color it, resulting in its current appearance—a majestic purple-haired woman holding a naginata.

The boy did not come to pray; he questioned the cold idol in a loud and angry voice.

"Lord Mikage-no-Mikoto! My parents, the entire village, have worshipped you for generations. Why, when disaster struck the village, did you not only fail to protect us, but instead sent your servants to kill us?!"

The root of all suffering can be attributed to the sudden plague that struck a month ago.

……

Thirty days ago, a strange disease broke out in this village of more than twenty households. There was no incubation period, and the patient's body would gradually weaken, and death would be certain within three hours of the onset of the disease.

The pathogen is unknown, the transmission route is unknown, and the treatment method is unknown... It's like a curse.

Twenty-seven days ago, Fujiwara no Miyako, the kind-hearted old man of the village, set off for Narukami Island with the hopes of the villagers, hoping to obtain the shogunate's assistance.

Uncle Fujiwara is usually warm-hearted and kind, and he selflessly helps all the villagers. He holds a very high position in the hearts of the young man and the entire village. He still accepted the hard work of traveling a long distance to Narukami Island to ask for help without any conditions.

Twenty-two days ago, the boy's mother died of illness.

This simple peasant woman's last words were to tell the boy to eat less, not to go around getting into fights and causing trouble like before, and to help his father and brother with chores.

These simple words are filled with an unspeakable, unadorned love for family.

Fifteen days ago, Uncle Fujiwara, who had requested help, returned, followed closely by dozens of shogunate soldiers.

Strangely, the soldiers did not provide medical supplies, nor did they bring an army doctor.

Instead of doing nothing, they blocked the village's only exit, prohibiting all residents from leaving their accommodation area.

At first, the naive villagers believed that the samurai lord was making preparations and would sooner or later carry out disaster relief operations—the villagers regarded them as saviors sent by the gods.

As time passed, the soldiers continued to block the roads, taking no other action, not even distributing food to the villagers, as if they wanted them to fend for themselves.

Almost all the farmland was outside the village. Without food supplies, the villagers could only survive by eating the food stored in the cellars for the winter. The image of the samurai in their minds gradually changed from messengers of the gods to incomprehensible villains.

Thirteen days ago, the village bully's wife passed away.

She was a mean and wicked woman with no redeeming qualities other than her good looks, so the villagers didn't care much about the matter. Only the young man went to comfort the village bully's daughter.

Because the village bully's daughter and the boy were childhood sweethearts, best friends who had grown up together.

Eleven days ago, the village bully's daughter passed away.

The boy clearly remembered that his childhood sweetheart had praised his singing voice, saying that she liked his loud voice and enjoyed listening to him sing melodious folk songs.

The grieving boy, instead of resting in the middle of the night, ran to the village bully's door and sang loudly. As a result, he disturbed the bully's sleep and was chased by the bully with a stick all night.

The village bully died 10 days ago.

The boy's father was a kind man. Hearing that the village bully had a young baby, he disregarded the neighbors' advice and adopted the child, saving him from starving to death at home.

Nine days ago, the boy's father passed away.

Before he died, the father earnestly instructed the boy and his older brother to take care of the poor child they had adopted and to give him a good name after the disaster was over.

Seven days ago, Fujiwara, unable to bear it any longer, went to question the samurai. Not long after, the battered Fujiwara was thrown back to the village by the samurai.

Uncle Fujiwara didn't suffer the beating for nothing; he overheard the cruel truth.

The relief funds and resources allocated by the shogunate were all embezzled by the soldiers in charge of carrying them out. They planned to burn down the village in a few days, claiming that the plague had been so severe that the entire village had died.

In addition, they planned to eliminate all the villagers who were witnesses, and then fabricate a lie about setting fires to disinfect in order to prevent the spread of the plague, so that they could return home safely and enjoy the property they had embezzled.

Ultimately, no one cared about the life or death of the remote village; the truth was eventually buried by fire and ashes.

Six days ago, in the morning, people found that Mr. Fujiwara had hanged himself, leaving behind only a suicide note.

He felt guilty for bringing a group of thugs into the village and for betraying the trust of his fellow villagers. Therefore, he offered his death as an apology and hoped that everyone would escape this hell on earth.

Five days ago, at night.

Most people didn't believe things would be as exaggerated as Fujiwara described, and only a small group organized themselves to try to break through the soldiers' blockade and escape to the outside world.

The villagers never saw them again.

Three days ago, the boy's older brother passed away.

My older brother is a renowned craftsman in the village, proficient in various techniques. He also dug the village's new well and taught many young people about engineering.

Before his death, the older brother told the boy that there was a secret passage at the bottom of the well in the village that led to the river outside. It was very narrow and only children could crawl into it.

The boy understood his brother's meaning, but he hesitated and dared not act rashly.

Tonight, Uncle Fujiwara's warning came true.

Corrupt shogunate soldiers covered their mouths and noses with white cloths to prevent being infected with diseases by the villagers, and then swarmed into the villages to kill and burn people, attempting to bury all the evidence.

……

The boy's angry rebuke of the god startled the baby in his arms, who began to cry loudly. The baby's cries ignited the boy's anger, and he rushed to the statue, reaching out his hands to try to push down this thing that was worshipped by the villagers but was utterly useless.

Because he often fought with others when he was young, the boy's physique was much stronger than that of his peers. The fragile statue could not bear the weight, and the base gradually loosened.

At this moment, two soldiers entered the temple, each carrying a rough, wild katana stained with the blood of the villagers and an exaggeratedly long, blood-stained spear.

"Oh, there's still one survivor... no, there are two survivors."

"What is this guy doing? How dare he insult the statue of the Great Lord! Kill him!"

boom!!!

As the menacing soldiers approached the boy, the statue collapsed with a crash and shattered into pieces.

Among the fragments of statues scattered on the ground was a wooden stick that was originally used to fix Thor and ensure his upright posture. Without thinking, the boy reached for the stick.

At the same time, the soldier wielding the nodachi raised his weapon, ready to cut the boy in two.

To the soldier's utter surprise, unlike the weak villagers who were like lambs to the slaughter, the boy actually took the initiative to dodge the slash and quickly closed in, swinging his club fiercely at the soldier's head.

boom! ! !

The wooden stick broke in two, and the man holding the long knife fell backward like a puppet with its strings cut.

The wolf-like boy pounced on the soldier, snatched the katana, and slashed it hard across his neck, splattering blood onto him and the baby in his chest.

"The first one!" the boy counted fiercely.

The slain soldier's comrades finally reacted and tried to retaliate with their guns, but the boy unexpectedly threw his greatsword, instantly slicing through the soldier's chest.

"The second one!"

The boy, holding a nodachi in his left hand and a spear in his right, charged out of the blood-soaked temple.

Flames filled the sky, and an even stronger stench of blood filled the air. The filthy flames and the acrid smell of burning objects were extremely pungent.

Outside the door, four soldiers spotted the boy.

"The third one! The fourth one! The fifth one! The sixth one..." the boy roared.

Although the boy was angry, he was clear-headed. He knew that he had to cross the filthy flames, carrying the hopes of his father and brother, and jump into the well that his brother had built.

Chapter 39 The Breeze of Freedom

Three years ago, a down-on-his-luck ronin arrived in this remote village, hoping to beg for some food. The villagers ignored him, but the Miyamoto family alone treated him warmly.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, the men of the Miyamoto family noticed that the ronin was carrying two swords, so they asked him to teach their eldest son a few moves. The ronin, feeling obliged because he had eaten their food, immediately agreed.

After a brief exchange, the ronin felt that Miyamoto's eldest son was not suited for combat, but since the eldest son helped repair his cracked scabbard, he should be able to become a great craftsman.

Not long after, the youngest son, who had just finished fighting with the village children, returned. The eight-year-old boy curiously observed the weapon at the ronin's waist and couldn't take his eyes off it for a long time.

The ronin, having nothing better to do, drew his sword and handed it to the little boy. He then drew his other sword, intending to play around with the boy for a bit.

A few seconds later, the ronin's sword was knocked several meters away and landed on the roof of the thatched hut. He looked at his hands, which were trembling from the shock, and was extremely surprised.

"Is this child really eight years old?!"

Geniuses do exist in the world.

……

A village engulfed in flames.

The boy wielded a long, slender katana with his left hand and thrust his heavy spear wildly in all directions with his right, and none of the shogunate soldiers surrounding him dared to approach.