The God has moved to another world.

There was a small company in an abandoned village in the back of a mountain.

Half decayed. What is being fed there was a single zhu-painted sheath.

Hundreds of years ago.

It was a small village. There, the wild samurai were after me.

It was only in the beginning that they would take the money and the rice, but the small countryside in the mountains in which it was pruned.

The amounts and objects obtained from it are known to be high.

The wild samurai made an early cut on the village and decided to take everything and target another village.

Women sell to girls' stores, men kill.

I guess not all of the wild samurai did, but the wild samurai who were attacking the village were full of geeks.

What girl shop should a young daughter sell to get a good value?

Do you kill all the older women?

To what extent do both men resist?

How long shall we take the weapon?

Were you lucky or bad?

A child living in the village happened to hear such a conversation sent in the cave, the negra of the wild samurai.

It was a four-and-a-half hour walk from the village, where the child approached without knowing otherwise.

The rice was unproductive that year, and even the little one was driven out to look for food.

The child, who was about to be happy to collect the little nuts full of cages, turns his face bright blue as if he had been showered with cold water.

I blocked my mouth with both hands that was about to scream, leaving the spot so that I wouldn't make a sound.

The child, who managed to get into the woods without finding it, ran down the beast path to roll.

Hurry up and tell the village adults about this, or they'll be in big trouble.

The kid hurried and hurried and kept running as he fell over and over again.

Still, the village is far away.

Finally, my breath rose and the child was so tired that it was finally time to move.

That's when.

"Are you okay?

There were those who spoke to their children.

It was in the woods that the child fell.

Who the hell would that be?

In the eyes of a child with a raised face was a martial arts-style man with a bright red juxtaposed sheath.

A child who showed vigilance for a moment.

But when I saw the martial artist smile, I felt my body stiffness fall out.

I didn't look like a bad person.

That intuition of a child is much sharper than that of an adult.

While breathing constantly, the child told him what he had heard by the cave.

The content would not have been easy for you to believe.

In the first place, it's irrelevant to a stranger martial arts-style man.

But the reaction of the martial artists was unexpected.

Bearing the child, he ran out to the village at a glance.

Ugly, he sews between the bush trees and runs the ground of the bumps without a thing.

The child on his back felt as if he was even on the back of a bird.

Soon after arriving in the village, the martial artists gathered the village adults to let the children see and hear the story.

At first they were half-hearted adults, but their hearts are gradually moved by the words of martial artists.

The martial artist, a traveler, saw a number of villages crushed by his wild samurai.

Besides, if I could wind up food and gold this year, which was a mishap, I'd have to starve to death.

The village grownups decided never to fight the wild samurai.

There were voices to flee elsewhere, but a small village in the mountains.

There's nowhere to run.

The men of the village took their weapons, and the women and children hid in the house.

The martial artist-style man left the village within that day when he taught the village chief some ways to fight.

Some said they wanted us to stay and fight together, but that never happened.

Some percent of the village was because they suspected the martial artist was a fellow wild samurai.

A martial artist-style man would have noticed that too.

The wild samurai came that night when the child informed the villagers of the danger.

I guess I tried to multiply things by the shade of night.

The raid aimed at an unintentional blow met with unexpected resistance, however.

Because the villagers armed with farm tools were guarding the entrance.

The first were the wild samurai, but they were peasants.

The wild samurai soon begin to regain their composure.

Kill them all like this?

It was when they thought so.

Behind the wild samurai, some glow flashed.

The next thing I heard, it didn't belong to the villagers.

He was the terminator of a wild samurai.

Suddenly, no one knew what had happened.

Except for one child, who was helped by that martial artist-style man.

He was lurking in the nearby woods after leaving the village.

To protect the village from the wild samurai.

The strength of the martial artist-style man was phenomenal.

Cut off the second one in no time, three or four.

Five, six, ten and.

Cut from next to next.

The wild samurai, who were in the crossfire between peasants and martial artists, instantly dwindled in numbers.

Though, the wild samurai aren't just slaughtered either.

Martial artists gradually get tired.

When there were a few wild samurai left, it happened.

A knife of a wild samurai pierces the belly of a martial artist.

Blood stains, and the anguished voice of the martial artist echoes.

Normally, you'd be spraying your organs with one of those machetes.

But the samurai did not fall, and cut off the remaining wild samurai.

The villagers rejoiced that there were no more wild samurai threatening the village.

Running over to him, poking his knees and not moving, trying to honor the martial artist who fought his life off.

And the villagers noticed.

The martial artist had a tight cloth wrapped around his belly.

It is bright red and wet to keep the organs out even if it is slaughtered.

The martial artist's face was blue and white, and his blood was completely drawn.

A knife received by a wild samurai was slowly trying to take the life of a martial artist.

In this case, there is no way to help.

The martial artist laughs powerlessly when he sees the villagers who are taken aback.

"Guys, I'm glad you're okay"

That was the last word of a bright red sheathed martial artist.

The villagers thanked the martial artists, who housed their bright red sheaths in the shrine and carefully buried the bodies.

To remember him for saving the village, the shrine changes its name to "Red Sheath Shrine".

And strange things began to happen that year.

The inaction that had happened once every few years was gone, and there was no hunger.

Sober water gushes., the fields become fat.

Sometimes the villagers start to say things.

"Maybe that martial artist was the incarnation of God"

The villagers began to devote the fruits of the year to the Red Sheath Shrine.

The bright red sheath is then cherished behind the shrine without fading or decaying for years.

Times have shifted, there are no more people in the village, and more than a decade has passed.

Still, its bright red sheath sat behind the decaying shrine, watching the area around.