CHAPTER 264: CHAPTER 193: FROM ONE DEAD WHALE SPRINGS LIFE FOR THOUSANDS_2

Imagawa Yoshimoto wasn’t stupid. In the early Warring States Era of Japan, he controlled the Three Kingdoms region. The Imagawa family, able to muster tens of thousands of troops and launch expeditions, was by no means weak. If any daimyo of the same era really went head-to-head with him, no one could guarantee they’d withstand Imagawa Yoshimoto’s full-force assault. Yet, in the end, Imagawa Yoshimoto just died like that.

He probably died from arrogance. He never expected that Oda Nobunaga would dare take the initiative to attack, would actually scheme against him, and so he was completely unprepared.

And Oda Nobunaga didn’t win by luck, either. He had prepared in advance, plotted for a long time, and on top of that, he was stubborn enough, willful enough, desperate enough, and with a little bit of luck, this is how he created the "miracle of the Battle of Okehazama."

Or rather, maybe even without that bit of luck, it wouldn’t have mattered. Oda Nobunaga crossed two defensive lines of the Imagawa family without being discovered, mainly because Imagawa Yoshimoto had already chopped up the local native Yamaguchi Keiji and his son, and had also cleaned out most of the region’s local powerful clans (the Yamaguchi family’s in-laws), resulting in the Imagawa family looking like a 100% pure outsider here. They could only hunker down in their castle, were practically blind in terms of information, and had no extra sources of intelligence.

So, as long as Oda Nobunaga could suddenly appear on Muro Mountain and trap Imagawa Yoshimoto in the valley, the rain didn’t matter at all. In a surprise attack, Imagawa Yoshimoto was headed for death no matter what. At most, the Oda Family would have to pay a slightly higher price and lose a few hundred more men, that’s all.

Either way, Imagawa Yoshimoto was doomed. The ending would not have changed.

No wonder Oda Nobunaga ended up so famous in later generations—universally recognized as "Japan’s number one during the Warring States"—this guy really did have a kind of "heroic aura." Willing to do what others dared not, and could even succeed at it—that’s "heroic aura," right? Nobunaga definitely had this quality, with a uniquely charismatic personality.

Of course, people usually judge heroes by success—the most important thing is winning. If he’d lost, right now all he’d have would be "dumbass aura"—the title of "big fool" would stick for life. Even in death, people would have mocked him as "using a mantis’ arms to stop a chariot," or "ants trying to shake a tree." He’d be a textbook idiot.

Harano stood at the top of Muro Mountain in the rain, sighing to himself that those who make a name for themselves in history are truly a different breed. Oda Nobunaga really was more charismatic than ordinary people like him. Meanwhile, the Oda army was already using the curtain of rain to mask their forms and sounds, and was closing in effortlessly on Imagawa Yoshimoto’s main command tent.

At this moment, a handful of remaining household retainers and Lang Faction of the Imagawa family finally noticed the Oda army, but there was simply no time to regroup. In the blink of an eye, the few Imagawa samurai and their followers were crushed and slaughtered by the overwhelming number of Oda samurai. Imagawa Yoshimoto’s command tent didn’t last even three minutes before it was breached.

Even though Imagawa Yoshimoto was obese and crippled, it didn’t matter now; he started escaping from the tent, shielded by two or three hundred of his attendants, fleeing into Mount Okehazama.

Of course, the Oda army pursued relentlessly, biting down on them. Imagawa Yoshimoto’s attendants were cut down one after another, their numbers rapidly dropping—after all, Yoshimoto’s attendants were ambushed in the middle of eating and resting, had almost no time to react, many didn’t even have their armor or weapons ready, and the organization was in total chaos. They all had their own ideas, and even if some wanted to fight back, it was powerless.

The Imagawa family’s Lang Faction and Ashigaru spread out across Dengaku Tsubo were in a similar state—before they realized it, the enemy had stormed into the valley, splitting their ranks. In the pouring rain, all they could hear was battle cries and screams all around, mixed with a flurry of waving flags and the blaring of Dharma Conches. It felt like Oda’s divine soldiers had descended in their tens of thousands. Realizing the cause was lost, they all prioritized running for their lives. Organized resistance was basically nonexistent.

Sure enough, under these circumstances, the Imagawa family had no chance of turning the tide.

The rain was falling even harder by now. On top of that, Imagawa Yoshimoto was fleeing blindly into Mount Okehazama. Harano couldn’t see even a blurry silhouette anymore. After waiting another seven or eight minutes, he faintly heard a wave of cheering cut through the sound of rain—if it weren’t for the downpour, that cheer would have been thunderous.

Imagawa Yoshimoto was probably dead by now, his head most likely lifted on a spear...

Even though Harano couldn’t see, he was now a "veteran commander" who’d fought enough battles—just by listening to the vague sounds, he could guess with eighty to ninety percent certainty. Not long after, a streak ripped through the curtain of rain—Ah Man, her two short legs a blur, dashed back at full speed, mud spraying higher than her own head. After running uphill, she was shivering with excitement all over.

Hmm, maybe it was just that the rain was too cold. She’d just run through freezing cold rain, and was shivering from the chill.

Either way, it didn’t matter. After scrambling to the top of the mountain, Ah Man plopped down on her butt and, panting, reported to Harano: "Imagawa Yoshimoto is dead—died miserably! He was chased down by two no-name guys from the Oda family. The three of them were rolling around in the mud, and those two from Oda just pinned him down and sawed his head off in the mud..."

She paused, then added excitedly, "It was really too gruesome. Imagawa Yoshimoto went nuts, getting pinned down and having his neck sawed at with a blade. He went so crazy he opened his mouth and bit off one guy’s finger, kept lashing out with his feet at the other, died in the most undignified way—not like a bigshot at all."

After finishing, Ah Man shivered a couple more times. Whether it was because the adrenaline was finally wearing off or because she got even colder sitting on the ground, her little face was still bursting with excitement. Felt like she’d really broadened her horizons today—a descendant from the prestigious Ashikaga clan, a bigshot who could wipe out a whole clan with a word, got butchered like a pig, pinned down and hacked to death. The blade sawing through the "throat protector" on his neck squealed loudly, blood gushed everywhere in the pouring rain, and all three of them were desperately howling and shrieking. It was utterly frantic, and the sounds were simply bone-chilling.

Truly broadened her horizons. She’d been on the battlefield a dozen times, seen thousands of corpses, but this was the first time she’d seen a killing as gruesome as this. She’d have stories for a lifetime to tell after this.

Harano pictured it in his mind and shuddered from the creepiness, feeling like Imagawa Yoshimoto really died miserable and horrifying... Of course, maybe the rain just really was that cold. Once the shudder passed, his attention quickly fell on the things in Ah Man’s hands.

Ah Man never comes back empty-handed. This time, she’d brought back an unsheathed long saber and a very ornate helmet.

Noticing his gaze, Ah Man quickly explained, "I didn’t do anything! You’re the only male left in our family, after all—it wouldn’t do for you to end the line. I just picked these up... The three of them were rolling in the mud, screaming and gushing blood. I had nothing better to do, so I just picked up their stuff."

Harano took the saber and helmet—didn’t even need to look closely to know the saber was a famous blade, extremely finely crafted. The helmet was even more exquisite: five-piece design, bound with eight golden dragons. And these dragons weren’t some papier-mâché tacky fakes painted gold—they were genuine goldsmith work, as thin as paper yet life-like, trembling as if ready to soar. Clearly the work of a true master.

Wiping the saber lovingly with her sleeve, Ah Man beamed, "This should be ’Sōzaemon Samonji’—formerly ’Sanhao Zuo Character’. An authentic famous blade! Getting this alone makes the whole trip worthwhile."

"Oh, Sōzaemon Samonji?" Harano was just admiring the helmet as a fine craft piece when he heard this and his eyes returned to the blade. He didn’t recognize it, but he’d heard of it—even in modern times.

This is a Japanese national treasure, now housed in a museum. In theory, it should go to Oda Nobunaga, then end up with the Monkey, then Toyotomi Hideyori, then Tokugawa Ieyasu, finally in the Taisho period to be handed over by the Tokugawa descendants to the state, ending up in the museum as a national treasure. Yet now, Ah Man had just swiped it—while they were butchering a pig, Ah Man was next to them swiping the spoils. Who knows how those two samurai who took Imagawa Yoshimoto’s head would feel about it.

Not that it matters—the saber, the helmet, their feelings—none of it matters.

Harano glanced once more at the Okehazama battlefield, where the Oda Family was now pursuing the scattering enemy, riding high on momentum and slaughtering the Imagawa samurai and their followers wholesale, looking to inflict maximum casualties.

He took one last look before withdrawing his gaze and said to Ah Qing and Ah Man, "Alright, it’s over. Let’s go!"

Imagawa Yoshimoto was dead; the Imagawa family was finished. And when a whale dies, a thousand creatures thrive; now that this behemoth is down, it’s his turn to take a piece of the carcass.