Hideo touched the first scroll, sealed with wax.

"This technique is called 'Healing Technique: Purifying Palm.' It allows a healer to extract foreign objects and fragments from a patient's body, such as arrowheads, steel shards, stone pieces, and equally hard objects. Unfortunately, Purifying Palm can't interact with soft substances like dirt, pieces of clothing, or grass."

"How does it even work?" Stas asked eagerly, as if hypnotized by the scroll lying in front of him.

"A warmaster uses their prana to convince the patient's body to expel these objects, explaining to the flesh how to do it, and then provides the necessary energy to carry out these actions. But let's not get sidetracked; I'll explain everything later."

"I'm sorry, Hideo-sama."

"The second technique, 'Healing Technique: Insensate Demon,'" the old man frowned slightly, "will allow you to numb a specific limb or even the entire body. Hideo paused, expecting a question, and Stas didn't disappoint.

"But I can also do that with Healing Palm."

"I see you've already done so. I'm glad you're approaching the use of techniques imaginatively. That means you know that in such a case, that limb can no longer be moved or used in combat. Insensate Demon allows you to bypass this problem." It was clear from the healer's face that it wasn't that simple.

"By applying the technique to a broken arm, you can use it as if nothing had happened. Moreover, you will continue to feel everything except pain. But this technique has a bad reputation for a reason and is almost considered forbidden."

The old man grimaced.

"For some reason, the larger the area of the body it covers or the longer it is applied, the less the person it's used on wants to reverse it. Somehow, the absolute absence of pain, even for a short time, makes even the strongest warmasters completely dependent on this sensation. In extreme cases, fighters attacked healers who wanted to remove it from them."

"How long can it be used safely?" Stas furrowed his brow. Although he saw the benefit of the technique, its reputation was quite eerie.

"If applied to the whole body, no more than half an hour. If on one limb, say an arm, then two to three hours, no more. It feeds on the patient's prana, and after six or seven hours, it completely and irreversibly drives even strong warmasters mad. These madmen are extremely dangerous, as they begin to mutilate and torment themselves and everyone they catch."

Hideo shook his head.

"I learned this technique from a small isolated clan. They lived very covertly and hardly interacted with the larger world. Their community believed in the imminent end of the world. When the time came, their prophets performed their rituals over them. The technique I gave you is just one from the list of techniques that drove those madmen insane. Each of them did it in their own way. In the end, there was little human left in those warmasters."

Ordyntsev shuddered. Something dark and dreadful stood behind the old man's words.

"They were called Mad Demons and were sought to be killed wherever they were found. However, there were no problems with that. The madmen never hid, and with the strength and trails of destroyed villages and cities, finding them was no trouble."

Ordyntsev was about to ask a question when the old man preempted him.

"And I'll tell you right away, the technique can only be activated if the warmaster offers no resistance. It's useless against enemies. I hope you're sensible enough not to repeat the mistakes of the Mad Demons."

Stas just nodded gratefully.

"And finally, my third gift. You will be able to activate this technique only after some time, and it is again quite dangerous if applied foolishly. It is named 'Healing Technique: Bloody Strike.' A warmaster wielding it can charge their blood with prana and then shoot it at an enemy. The technique is dangerous because it drains the user's life force. Again, it's considered a semi-forbidden technique."

"Hideo-sama," Stas hesitated but still asked the question that bothered him. "Why are you giving me such dangerous techniques? Bloody Strike and Insensate Demon – they don't seem like the kind given to ordinary warmasters. Yes, they are powerful, but their power can also strike painfully at the owner."

"I'm giving them to you for one simple reason," the old man shrugged. "Without them, your chances of survival, Shiro-kun, are frankly slim. You're going to war. And that's not the place for just-hatched fighters like you."

Ordyntsev simply nodded in acknowledgment.

"Insensate Demon will give you the chance to fight even those stronger than you. Bloody Strike, though it requires a lot of prana, has excellent striking properties and is resistant to the elements. Even an advanced warmaster would fare poorly against it. Bloody Strike is a technique of a now-destroyed clan that was adapted for use without lineage. So, you shouldn't have any problems with foreign heritage."

"Thank you for the teachings, Hideo-sama." Stas bowed politely.

"Now, let's get to the lesson. Purifying Palm is based on repelling emotions. This means you will have to recall something you want to be as far away from as possible, and then after that..."

*****

Hideo Sumada pondered what Shiro had said.

Such an unusual view on the problem of his grandson's fear of blood required the utmost attention, but even so, the elderly warmaster felt there was a sense in the youth's words.

'Could mental illnesses really work that way? But where did he learn about it?' Hideo tried to remember, but he had never heard of "mental illnesses."

In any case, they had nothing better than Shiro's suggestion, so Hideo was determined to do everything in his power to help Kizashi.

And he already had a couple of ideas about it.

Firstly, he would start with visits to the hospital. In the beginning, seeing one patient for a few minutes would suffice. More could follow, and eventually, the whole hospital could be shown.

In addition, the old man thought a lot about how to accomplish this "saturation."

No one would allow him to torment prisoners or the wounded, but where to get so much blood?

Then, at some point, an idea came to Hideo, as if the spirits themselves had put it in his head.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He recalled Shiro's words that in the process of discerning the origin of blood, a lad's mind takes the lead. What if Hideo collected blood from several cows and arranged it all as if he had a full bath of human blood?

The warmaster nodded – it should work. Such a thing should only be done after the grandson has passed the first training with gradual acclimatization.

In any case, Shiro-kun provided their family with good advice, and Hideo Sumada reciprocated with equally valuable knowledge.

Though, who was he kidding?

Naturally, the techniques he offered to Shiro were far more valuable than the disparate advice given to his grandson.

Obviously, in his old age, Hideo had become so sentimental that he could no longer watch indifferently as those to whom he had become attached died.

The old man did not want to see the death of such a peculiar healer either. That's why, despite the risk and the elders' displeasure, he provided him with techniques for which warmasters would kill without a second thought.

On the other hand, if Hideo wasn't confident that Shiro could handle them, the young man would never have seen them in the first place.

*****

"Well, my little apprentices, have you rested?" Jun was literally beaming with energy.

"Yes, master!" the team responded in unison.

"Excellent. Then we'll visit the officials now and take your first mission. I'm sure you'll like it." Jun's words sounded too promising.

The way to the upper floors was quick, but there was a hold-up at the entrance.

"Hmm," they were met by the same thin man with an unexpressive face who had led them to the elders a month ago. "Master Jun, there's no point in going further and distracting people. I took the liberty of preparing the mission scroll in advance."

"Io, brother," Jun affectionately wrapped the man standing in front of him in a sturdy hug, while snatching the paper. "How much longer are you going to hold a grudge against me? Yes, I broke that cabinet with papers in the heat of the moment. But I apologized!"

"I regret for the umpteenth time that the spirits cursed me with such relatives like you."

"And I'm amazed that our old man, may his hammer never dull in the afterlife, had such a pedant and bore as a son."

"Someone among you all has to be at least a little serious," Io muttered calmly, ready to leave. He cast only a fleeting glance at his brother's apprentices, almost uninterested in them.

"Io, so what about forgiving me?" Jun smirked.

"Since you refuse to leave me alone, fine, after you're back, come over, and we'll have a sit-down."

"I'll even call Miyako!" Jun shouted after him.

"The only smart thought from you in recent times," came back from behind the closing doors.

"What a jerk," Jun chuckled lightheartedly, then turned to his apprentices. "That's my older brother, Io. As a warmaster, he's a real weakling, never liked to fight," the man's voice conveyed disapproval. "But if you need help with money or documents, there's no one better. Feel free to go to him in such cases."

"Thank you, sensei." The apprentices bowed in surprise. They had never seen their master in such a good mood before.

"Don't mention it, brats. Io is quite a schemer; expect to pay through the nose for his assistance. On the other hand, he doesn't help just anyone, and he can be trusted, so appreciate that."

Ordyntsev nodded seriously as their master revealed a new, pleasant side. Being one of the cursed generation of bastards, he had family ties in the most unexpected places, from officials to the clan head himself. Good relations with Hideo also meant a lot.

"Now, my little cutthroats," Jun said, reading the unrolled scroll with the mission. "You'll taste human blood for the first time in your life."

Mei and Eiji leaned forward eagerly.

"One of the aristocrats of Rashta, our country," Jun's voice easily conveyed irony. There was a point, after all, although warmasters lived on the territory of daimyo countries, they had too many unaccountable resources to be considered vassals like samurai. Of course, samurai were infuriated by this. "Is very unhappy that someone besides himself dared to cut his peasants and burn their villages. Probably, he had reserved that amusement for himself. As usual, years of famine, peasants collapsing from hunger who refused to pay the exorbitant tax due to poor harvests, and the punitive raid by the landowner. But something went wrong."

The man's lips stretched into a wicked smile. Stas remembered that Jun was from peasant stock himself.

"Somehow, the illustrious aristocrat got a good kicking along with his lame troop by either bandits or deserters. I lean towards the latter, as bandits are usually weaker. And now this little aristocrat has paid the hated warmasters to solve his problem. And you know what?"

Jun rolled up the scroll, slipped it into a tube, and hung it on his belt.

"We'll kill everyone there!"

"Yes, sensei!"

"Stop yelling at the door, go away!" Io's irritated voice came through.

"Tsk, ruined the whole atmosphere." Jun frowned.

*****

The village where the deserters had settled was located three days of a measured run for warmasters, which would be weeks of travel for ordinary people.

Modern times had accustomed Stas to the idea that, if need be, he could travel from Moscow to Irkutsk in a mere six hours by plane.

Yes, six hours is a lot, but that time becomes insignificant compared to three days on a train.

Now imagine the same distance, but on foot. The only plus in all this was that the locals still tried to connect their cities with a network of proper, albeit earthen, roads.

Prana burning in the muscles numbed the fatigue and filled them with wild, ringing strength. It felt as if gravity had partially turned off, and now you were running on the Moon.

To reach the target, Jun and his apprentices had to get to the central city in those lands and then descend to the village they needed.

Along the way, one could once again admire the surrounding attitude towards warmasters.

Peasants, merchants, and even simple craftsmen on their way jumped aside in horror, beginning to make gestures to ward off evil. If there were children in these processions, mothers or fathers carefully covered their faces with cloth, fearing that a warmaster would take away a child they liked.

Since warmasters didn't particularly bother to explain their selection criteria, this process was shrouded in the most terrifying rumors among the people.

Stas couldn't help but wonder – was this the case everywhere in the world, or specifically in the couple of countries he had visited?

Could it be that with the Mizuno, for example, the situation was different for the better?

The only good things in all this were the blatantly lowered prices for products and accommodation in inns.

Merchants and innkeepers were more interested in making sure the scary warmasters didn't get irritated and just left as soon as possible.

However, on the third day, their squad finally reached the mission's goal, and what they saw could hardly please anyone. Everyone reacted differently. Mei put on a mask of cold indifference, but Eiji stared ahead greedily, as if trying to imprint every scene deep in his soul.

Stas's face turned to stone. Only his eyes moved from one horror to another.

The village, previously quite wealthy and affluent, judging by the broken palisade in a couple of places and a few towers, now looked pitifully wretched.

Some houses had burned down, marring the surrounding view with black, half-destroyed walls and collapsed roofs.

But the most terrifying was revealed upon closer inspection.

The bestial face of local society did not hesitate to show itself here in all its glory.

Many of the burned houses had charred skeletons of people tied to them. Five or so people were nailed to a huge tree in the center of the village with wooden stakes.

Those who hung from the tree branches in nooses could be considered lucky, as they died almost without suffering.

Since the hangings and many other executions took place more than a week ago, all these bodies stank and attracted swarms of flies.

Perhaps that's why the bandits chose the opposite part of the village for their camp.

To keep the fun from ending quickly, they did not kill all the villagers. And if the fate of the women could still be understood, the deserters entertained themselves with the men and children in a different way.

Someone showed off their bravery by giving the former peasants a sword and offering them to fight against an experienced soldier with a spear and some armor.

And that was the best scenario when the fighter was confident in himself. Usually, two or three "brave men" attacked one peasant.

Children were pelted with the bones of their own livestock, kicked, or even served as an amusing practice target for arrows.

Only the fact that the archers were drunk gave the kids a chance of survival. But even so, the arrows sometimes stuck dangerously close to their thin legs.

The fate of the villagers was grim in any case. They could be killed upon departure or sold to an aristocrat of another country. In the best case, the troops of the aristocrat of this land might free them, but the destroyed village, burned barns, and dead livestock condemned them to starvation.

"Now listen to the task, larvae," Jun picked at his teeth with a fingernail, removing a stuck piece of meat. "I don't give a damn how you kill them all. Even if you burn the villagers along with the deserters, just make sure the latter die. We don't need captives, so strike to kill. I counted about fifty people. You should manage; otherwise, just slit your own throats right here. It'll be faster."

"Yes, sensei." The students whispered, beginning to slowly and cautiously approach the target. Nearby, Leviathan slithered like a white shadow.