CHAPTER 252: CHAPTER 183: THE MONKEY MUST DIE!

If something happens abnormally, there must be a hidden cause. After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Ah Man cautiously asked, "You... intend to kill whom?"

"Hoyoshimaru."

Ah Man let out a slight sigh of relief—she’d thought Harano had suddenly gotten it into his head to assassinate Oda Nobunaga. That would be a high-difficulty task. But then she quickly grew suspicious, frowning, "That groom’s boss? Why are you set on killing him all of a sudden? What did he do to you?"

In her eyes, Hoyoshimaru seemed perfectly normal—a decent groom, very respectful toward Harano, and Harano himself had once said he appreciated the man. Why had Harano suddenly changed so much—changed enough to want to kill?

Harano didn’t reply. He’d wanted to get rid of the monkey for a long time; even back at Takeshige Manor, he’d thought about getting rid of the monkey.

This wasn’t a sudden impulse. For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, he’d landed, stranded, in this era, and always felt he ought to do something—at least try to prevent some of the great tragedies of history from happening again, not simply watch, foolishly, as they unfolded.

That was the first time he’d felt a murderous urge toward the monkey. Back then his thoughts were still vague, his intent to kill not firm, and moreover he hadn’t even known where the monkey was, nor had the strength. So all he’d done was dig up Ningning and set a small trap for the monkey, leaving it at that.

But as he spent more and more time in the Japan Middle Ages, and read vast quantities of ancient Japanese historical records, samurai journals, and temple notes and travelogues, he gradually traced things back to their root—the problem wasn’t just the monkey; Japan itself was the real source of calamity, the greatest hazard of all.

Japan has its so-called "Divine Kingdom ideology." According to Harano’s research, the first record was in the Japan Book Chronicles, but at that time, Japan still lacked a "we alone are the Divine Kingdom" sense. It wasn’t until the Heian Era’s Records of Three Generations of Japan that Japan began to use and acknowledge "Divine Kingdom" as a term for its own nation. With the dawn of the Kamakura Era, the notion that "Japan is the Divine Kingdom and so is beyond attack by other nations; the imperial line is unbroken" was further clarified and strengthened—up to this point, Japan was still, more or less, normal.

Then came Kublai’s invasions and his repeated defeats by typhoon—this became the key opportunity for the evolution of Japan’s "Divine Kingdom ideology," giving rise to the influential "Divine Wind" belief. The Japanese imperial house, Shrines, and temples used this to reinforce their rule, and the "Divine Kingdom ideology" grew ever more fervent.

Next was the Muromachi Era, when the "Root-Leaf-Flower-Fruit Theory" arose, putting "Divine Kingdom ideology" at its core and as the principal element; "Divine Power Creating Country Theory," and "Imperial Line Heaven-Granted Theory" were all formalized and began to stress Japan’s inherent superiority and uniqueness—now Japan was seen as the noblest, most exceptional nation in the world and destined to rule all others.

In the emergence of these "theories," Japan put them into practice again and again, repeatedly invading the Korean Peninsula to kill, burn, and plunder—committing numerous heinous crimes, which many samurai journals even took pride in, praising endlessly. There were no particular political grievances against Korea, nor specific hatred—it was simply that Japan’s navigation technology was primitive, and often that was the only place they could reach.

At this point, Japan as a whole had begun its distortion, racing headlong down the path of disaster, never looking back.

The monkey was also influenced by these ideas—an ardent extremist in this way of thinking. In the era of Oda Nobunaga, he had repeatedly advised expanding into the Korean Peninsula. When he had power himself, he put it into action: demanding Korea be conquered in three months, China in a year, and India in three—directly launching an invasion of Korea.

Of course, he didn’t succeed. But it still resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands—if not millions—and also indirectly paved the way for the rise of the Later Jin.

Eventually, it came to the Meiji Era, and the "Divine Kingdom ideology" pervasive among the samurai class evolved into "militarism"—all other nations were "inferior races," meant to be ruled by the divinely chosen.

By then, with the advancement of science and technology, Japan’s reach had grown—they could inflict misery even farther away. Thus Korea and China both suffered, and hundreds of millions died unnatural deaths.

Only because China, at heavy cost, managed to hold out, was the world saved from further devastation. Had China failed, there’s no telling how many more millions would have died as Japan rampaged farther.

Now Harano had been cast into this era. After prolonged reflection, he felt, as long as he had the power, there were two things he ought to do:

First, eradicate this "Divine Kingdom ideology"—this evil way of thinking that brings pain to untold millions. To this end, he combed through notes, travelogues, and historical texts at every opportunity, tracing the ideology’s roots, striving to wipe out individuals and groups already polluted by these ideas, so that in the future, they wouldn’t lead the Japanese people to murder innocents.

This was supremely difficult, but for the sake of hundreds of millions of lives, he believed he should at least try.

Second, he needed to split Japan as much as possible—ideally into several separate states.

This would be a precautionary measure. The reason Japan had wreaked havoc over most of Asia and cost so many lives was complex—domestic political struggles, indulgent international contexts, the rise of capitalist power, and so on. But to ensure Japan lost the ability to commit harm, dividing it up was the safest bet.

This sort of analysis is highly complicated—one might even have to study how Japanese national character evolved to this point: why there is so little "sense of guilt," yet "shame" can spiral out of control, and why they so often fall into collective frenzies, committing insane or extremely selfish acts, then bowing politely as if nothing had happened, ready to do it all again...

Harano himself had not yet figured it all out—it couldn’t be explained in a few words, or even in volumes. But he was sure of this: splitting Japan up, taking away its power to do evil, preventing it from being an ever-present ticking time bomb—this would be good for the vast majority, and in their best interest.

It would benefit most people in the past, and also most people in the present.

Of course, he might be doing the wrong thing—maybe he hadn’t taken into account the feelings of the Japanese, or perhaps murder was wrong, or splitting up a country was immoral, or perhaps he’d be called a rabid nationalist, or a contemptible villain. But he didn’t care. He was just an ordinary person, accidentally stranded in this rotten era, struggling even to stay alive. Perfection in every deed was never an option for him.

So he would do his utmost—couldn’t promise anything, was only seeking peace of conscience, and didn’t ask for understanding.

As for the fact that he’s ended up in ancient times and can’t unify the world and rule, or return to the Great Ming and start a revolution...

He wasn’t all that interested in being king or overlord. With what he already possessed, he could live in the utmost luxury—delicacies every day, eating abalone by the barrel, tossing away the shells without a care. If he had real confidence in his vigor, he could even manage a three-thousand-woman harem. But he didn’t think that was any real goal—in fact, even if he unified Japan, so what?

Could he take Japan with him to the Underworld to keep enjoying power after death? Or would he have to sit back, wait for history to realign itself, and watch as the descendants of Japanese Samurai and temple families resumed the propagation of "Divine Kingdom ideology," once again bringing catastrophic tragedy to the world?

Or maybe, thanks to his involvement, Japan would grow even stronger and kill even more innocents in the future?

Forget it then—it’s better to focus on something more meaningful. There is nothing to miss about a useless reputation. He’s a modern man, stranded in the ancient world; he should remake history, lead things to a better future—not the other way around, letting a scrap of fake fame turn him into an ancient man with a modern skin.

And as for starting a revolution back in the Great Ming...

To say nothing of reality—even in the most fantastical web novels, nobody can guarantee that an uprising during the Jiajing era could possibly succeed. The social and economic foundations simply weren’t there. Just thinking about it brought a sea of trouble. Plus, he still sort of wanted to stay in Ise Mountain, see if he could take his fool son back to the modern world.

So, after long deliberation, he decided to do just these two things—at this critical historical juncture, stamp out Japan’s "Divine Kingdom ideology," prevent it from further festering, and see if he could split Japan into several nations, stripping it of the ability to do evil for good.

Which meant Hoyoshimaru, the monkey, had to die. He was a key point in history; only if he died could more people live, live better lives.

If this was one of those trolley problems, Harano was probably the sort who would hesitate, waver, and then pull the lever, diverting the trolley to kill just one person...

At least, at this very moment, that was his decision. These things he could not explain to Ah Man and Ah Qing. He could only keep them buried deep within, brooding in the darkness like a petty schemer, incapable of speaking his mind.

He was silent for a long time. Looking at Ah Man and Ah Qing, he finally sighed: "In truth, you’ve noticed I’m strange all along, but you’ve just pretended not to see. Well, let’s keep it that way this time—there’s no reason. Just think of it as me being capricious."

Ah Man and Ah Qing exchanged glances, still perplexed, but Ah Qing reached out and gently squeezed Harano’s hand, showing her trust, and Ah Man dropped the questioning, starting to weigh his order. Arms crossed, she mused aloud, "Purely killing him isn’t difficult. By his gait and posture, his martial arts are average. If Ah Qing acted suddenly, she could slice him down in two or three breaths. The problem is, he lives in Oda Nobunaga’s household, and he’s Nobunaga’s man. Ideally, his death shouldn’t be linked to us, or else Nobunaga’s reaction would be hard to predict and might affect our operations in New Wanjin."

Harano nodded slightly. That was his concern as well; he didn’t want killing the monkey to disrupt the overall plan. He pondered as well: "Exactly. I don’t care how he dies; so long as he ends up dead, it’s enough. And there’s no urgent timing, as long as the action is foolproof and nobody finds out."

"No time limit, huh..." Ah Man was relieved. From Harano’s expression earlier, she’d feared he wanted action right away. If there was ample time to prepare, the job was easy.

Her mind spun for a moment, then she was full of confidence: "Leave it to me—guarantee he ends up good and dead."