With a pill held between my teeth, I looked up to find a parade of oddly dressed people marching by.

Some wore hoods, others trod on stilts, all costumed as various Japanese yokai—it seemed they were putting on some sort of performance.

I knew the Japanese held a deep reverence for spirits and gods, and they considered their folklore of yokai a profound part of their national heritage.

However, most people treated these spirits as mere legends, perhaps never truly believing yokai had ever existed.

But remembering my own recent experiences—even though they were ultimately dismissed as hallucinations—the goblins and spirits were still vividly etched in my mind: battling Kuroda-ji in the derelict cabin, the Insect Princess begging for my help, the fight with the Wind Bag Snake by the Black Stone River. These moments felt undeniably real.

So, seeing the parade, my heart grew heavy.

Just then, two vibrant, youthful female students walked past me, occasionally glancing my way. I decided to offer them a warm smile and asked, "Hello, I'm a tourist from China. Could you tell me what these people are performing?"

One of the girls, with neat bangs and a refined look, replied in fluent English, "Oh, this is the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. It’s Japan's Ghost Festival today. Later, there will also be a Ghost Market, rituals for praying for peace, all sorts of trinkets to buy, and plenty of delicious food. You’ve come at the right time—it only happens once a year. Would you like to get a protective amulet?"

I was bored and eager to soak up some exotic local color. Hearing about good food, my stomach betrayed me, and I said, "Then how do I get to this Ghost Market?"

The girl with the bangs smiled slightly and offered, "We're heading there right now. Why don't we go together?"

I hesitated for a moment, but seeing their enthusiasm, I nodded and replied, "That would be much appreciated then."

The two girls nodded without another word and began leading the way.

As we walked, the girl with the bangs asked me, "Sir, are you here to sightsee Mount Rokko? The scenery there is truly wonderful."

I nodded. "It is. The pastoral ambiance there is incredibly serene; I enjoyed it very much."

The girl with the bangs inquired, "When did you go?"

I paused to think, then answered truthfully, "I returned about half a month ago."

The girl's eyes lit up with excitement. She grabbed my hand and asked, "Then did you encounter that incident!"

I was unaccustomed to her sudden familiarity and gently pulled my hand back, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm not sure what incident you're referring to."

The girl took out her phone and pointed to a news article. "This incident..."

Looking at the image of a meteorite crash shrouded in thick fog, with a mysterious dark silhouette, I guessed what she meant, but I still replied, "I can't read Japanese. When I was there, I only toured the scenic spots and didn't run into anything strange..."

The girl looked somewhat disappointed. "Oh, is that so? Well, never mind. That news has been suppressed now, and Mount Rokko Park is under military control. Although the public is intensely curious, they can't get the truth. But I suspect it was extraterrestrials causing trouble!"

I smiled faintly. "Maybe it was just another hoax, like the crop circles—entirely man-made."

The girl with the bangs shook her head firmly. "No way. If it were a hoax, they wouldn't impose a military lockdown. Besides, Mount Rokko has always had unusual legends. There’s a reason aliens would choose that location for a base."

Just as I was about to respond, a deep rumbling sound echoed from the street ahead.

People on the street quickly cleared a path, moving to the sidewalks.

I looked and saw more than a dozen tanks rolling past in a grand procession, followed by a dozen armored vehicles.

This convoy slowly moved down the road in front of us, its direction aimed squarely at Mount Rokko in the distance.

Seeing the solemn, fully armed Self-Defense Force soldiers standing atop the tanks, I knew something serious had happened.

Such a scene—one usually reserved for wartime—was rarely seen on the bustling streets of a major city.

The onlookers on the sidewalk buzzed with speculation, some showing expressions of sheer terror.

By the time the last tank had passed us, an officer-like figure in one of the rear armored vehicles began shouting through a loudspeaker.

After he finished, I asked the girl with the bangs, "What did he say?"

The girl translated, "He said it’s a joint military exercise in the Mount Rokko area and told everyone not to panic. Whatever noises they hear tonight, they shouldn't panic, should just lock their doors and windows, and not wander around the streets..."

Before I could say anything, the girl added, "Who believes that? They're obviously going to fight the aliens..."

I was momentarily speechless, thinking that thing might not necessarily be an alien; it could be connected to the Substance 0017.

But the meteorite that had inexplicably appeared in the center of the swamp just days earlier was certainly something I couldn't easily dismiss.

The way it kept burning for days was eerily similar to the murals I had seen in the underground palace at Lop Nur back then.

Only after the entire military contingent had passed did the public cautiously start filling the streets again.

It was then I noticed the group dressed as yokai standing by the roadside. One of them, wearing a single-horned oni mask, was staring directly at me.

I didn't pay much attention at first, but as I looked closer at this figure, I realized his body was reversed.

In other words, his face was positioned on his back, just like his backside!

Because I’d had a similar, disorienting experience before, when Xie Yuting wore a mask atop his head deep within Black Bamboo Valley, I wondered if this person had simply placed the mask over the back of his head, causing this visual trick.

I was lost in thought when the girl with the bangs tapped my shoulder. "What are you looking at? The Ghost Market is almost here."

I snapped back, forcing an awkward smile. "Oh, right. Nothing..."

When I turned back to look for the masked man, he was gone, and the entire parade group had moved on.

I shifted my perspective and saw they hadn't gone far; they were merely obscured by a nearby phone booth, which brought a slight wave of relief.

We three then continued walking. As we moved, I asked the girl with the bangs, "How much further to the Ghost Market?"

She replied, "Not far now. Just past two more streets is the Thunder Cloud Shrine (Raiun Jinja); the Ghost Market is held inside the shrine grounds."

"Thunder Cloud Shrine?" I repeated, taken aback.

Seeing my puzzled expression, the girl assumed I didn't understand the meaning of 'sundercloud' and explained, "The Thunder Cloud is the Thunder God we worship here. They say he is a great yokai, but he has protected this area, and his blessings are quite effective."

I just murmured an 'oh,' when suddenly my eyelid twitched—a bad premonition settled in.

I paused, thinking that perhaps I was overreacting. The lair of the Thunder Cloud Monk had been obliterated by the meteorite; what danger could a small shrine possibly pose?

Besides, since it was the Ghost Market, there would be many visitors, making any incident unlikely.

With this thought, my spirits lifted considerably. A sudden question occurred to me, and I asked, "Does the number thirteen hold any special significance here? Especially concerning the deceased?"

I asked this because the old man with white hair, upon his death, had promised to claim our lives thirteen days later.

The girl with the bangs answered almost instantly, "Of course, it does! It's said that on the third day after a person dies, they return home to visit their relatives—it's called the Night of Returning Souls in common parlance. I recall you Chinese have a similar custom, don't you?"

A cold sweat immediately broke out on my forehead. How could I tell her that in China, we only observe the seventh day (touqi)?

After a moment of silence, I asked again, "Is there a saying about returning to claim a life on the thirteenth day?"

The girl nodded. "Certainly. After returning on the thirteenth day, vengeful spirits settle old scores... but..."

I quickly pressed, "But what?"

The girl explained, "But if the grudge isn't settled by the fifteenth day, the vengeful spirit will depart, taking a ghost carriage to report to the netherworld. However, I hear that on the fifteenth day, the vengeful spirit is at its most powerful."

Hearing this, I felt as though I had plunged into an ice cellar; cold sweat poured down my skin.

Although I didn't believe in spirits or gods, the condition of Da Xiong and Xie Yuting was too bizarre for me not to consider the possibility.

After composing myself, I managed to ask, "Are there any things sold around here for..."

"Things to ward off ghosts and protect the home, right?" The girl with the bangs cut me off.

I stared at her with surprise, wondering how she knew what I was about to ask.

Then the girl said, "You look unwell; you must have encountered that kind of situation, haven't you? I experienced it myself once. My mother said it was because my own karmic fate was too light. But ever since I received a blessing from a relative at the Thunder Cloud Shrine, I haven't had those incidents again. So you've come to the right place today; I'll take you to see that holy monk."

As someone who didn't believe in spirits, I felt a surge of awkwardness, wondering if I was being too timid by resorting to trusting in divine blessings.

But then I considered that having a holy monk give me a blessing couldn't hurt. Since I was here, I might as well see this revered monk.

With that resolved, I said no more and followed the two girls. A few minutes later, we saw a structure ahead that resembled a traditional courtyard house (siheyuan), with white lanterns hanging at the entrance.

Under the lanterns stood two people wearing ugly oni masks, posing dramatically to attract tourists.

Seeing their comical attire, many people stopped to take souvenir photos with them.

We arrived at the entrance, where a stooped old man, leaning on a cane, approached us holding a box.

Not knowing his purpose, the girl beside me explained, "This is for collecting donations to build the temple."

Then both girls dropped one hundred yen into the box. I pulled out a bill and offered it.

The old man waved his hand at me, uttered a phrase in Japanese, and turned away.

I stood there awkwardly and asked, "Was that... a sign of contempt?"