You travel next in the care of Zatoichi the Blind Samurai.

In some measures this statement is inaccurate. Zatoichi is not blind, he is not a samurai, and his name is not Zatoichi. But in terms of [i]driving style[/i] no statement could be more accurate. 

The little white truck screams around mountain bends at speeds that require both a handbrake and a flexible attitude towards keeping all four wheels on the ground. The gear shift whirls and clacks from second to fifth and back to first with the wild speed and flawless footwork of deadly battle. The last second reaction to each corner speaks to the swordsman's blindness, the willingness to take off-road shortcuts through the underbrush speak to his connection with nature, and the unflappable stare of the gleaming sunglasses speak to his fearlessness. The roaring pulse of Mongolian throat-singing from his car's CD player that keeps him from hearing phrases like '[i]slow down![/i]' and '[i]watch out![/i]' and '[i]AAAAAAAAAAAA[/i]' represents his perfect battle focus.

If there's a silver lining to all of this it's that his driving is not meaningfully impacted when the windshield starts to become blocked by all the Assault Ribbons he's hitting.

In a way it's worse when he hits the flagstones. Yes, he's not putting you through wild turns and spins any more, but that just means he can floor the pedal and let the little truck roar to its fullest. Things are definitely worse when he hits the stairs and now you're going up diagonally, everyone thrown together into a heap against the back doors of the truck, left to helplessly watch as the Zatoichi takes one hand off the wheel to grope around under his seat for a bottle of water. He starts taking a drink right as the car hits the top of the stairs at a speed that sends it sailing spectacularly into the air and sets the bottle down right before the bone-shaking impact as it lands again.

Zatoichi then grips the handbrake and pulls it as high as it will go, throws the wheel hard to the left, and swings the entire truck around in a complete one-eighty degree spin. The truck screeches to a halt at last and the tangled heap of girls in the back of the vehicle finally sinks down to the floor.

Zatoichi hops out and walks around to the back, opening the doors like a gravedigger opens a coffin. "We're here," he grunts as he bites down on an eucalyptus drop, crunching it like a candy. "Princess Qiu's palace."

This is a palace worthy of the Empress of the Middle Kingdom. A great field of stone, filled with enormous black marble pillars rising regularly up to the sky like a great stone forest. A great terraced pyramid of stairs rises up, layer by layer, and continues within the palace itself. It is bright, bright in a way it rarely is - the sun dares not disappoint the Princess who dwells here. It is a field that calls for armies to stand upon it and their absence is deliberate, it is a palace that should be forbidden but the doors are open wide, it is a landscape that would make a spectacular battlefield and its potential is [i]exciting[/i].

Zatoichi is already climbing back into his truck. There's only one way back out of here and probably no one thinks much of it right now.