Winter turned to spring, and as the weather warmed, the chirping of insects had begun after nightfall.
Tonight was another full moon. Its light made the whole earth look as if a thin frost had been laid over it. Yet in this serene and peaceful scene lurked something that shattered the harmony.
This was a teahouse by a road through the fields, meant to give travelers a place to rest.
A place like this was hardly luxurious, but it wasn't some ramshackle hut either.
Yet in the stillness of the night, strange sounds came from within.
The tearing of flesh and the sounds of chewing kept drifting out, as if some wild beast were feeding inside.
Closer to the door, you could see blood seeping from beneath the wooden threshold and smell a nauseating stench of blood.
No one knew when it had started, but this place had become a demon's hunting ground. Who knew how many travelers had been devoured by the fiend nesting in the teahouse.
No lamps were lit inside, but the moonlight was bright enough.
A demon with matted hair leaned beside a table with a broken leg, gnawing on a human arm.
Few demons could withstand the corrosion of the Demon King's blood when accepting Muzan's transfusion, so they typically lost their human memories and reason, driven by the demonic instinct to eat people.
This demon was no exception. He had completely forgotten his memories and name from when he was human.
Now he was only Zhiluo, a man-eating demon who wanted to join the Twelve Kizuki.
To reach that goal, he had to eat more people to grow stronger and win that lord's favor.
Just as Zhiluo was working to absorb his fresh meal, a rapid knocking sounded at the door.
"Open up, the Demon Slayer Corps is here to warm you up!"
"Um, Mr. Charles, I don't think we ever officially joined the Demon Slayer Corps?"
"Don't sweat the details. We're doing the same job anyway!"
…
Zhiluo's pupils widened. He'd been a demon long enough to know what the Corps was.
To him, their swordsmen were enemies—but also better-quality meat.
This time was different, though. The people outside made even his skin prickle.
He himself didn't know it, but because he preyed on travelers on the road, the Corps hadn't been able to pinpoint his location before.
So the ones he'd encountered previously were all low-ranking swordsmen. This time was different.
As he hesitated over fleeing, the people outside seemed to lose patience and opened the door.
Convinced demons were a superior species, Zhiluo didn't run. He unleashed his Blood Demon Art at the intruders.
As Charles pushed the door open, a mass of threadlike strands surged in like a clump of seaweed.
On closer look, they were bunches of hair—jet-black and glossy, with fine texture—but enough hair to fill half a room only made it more horrifying and nauseating.
This was Zhiluo's Blood Demon Art: controlling his hair to grow rapidly and wielding it at will.
Not only did it grow at astonishing speed, it was quite tough; the swordsmen he'd met before couldn't even cut through it.
Just as he tried to bind the newcomers, a flare of fire lit up. Zhiluo saw the boy with the box draw his black katana, and with one swing a burst of flame sheared through the encroaching hair.
They really had brought "warmth"—only this warmth would burn him to ash.
Charles said from the side, "He even has a Blood Demon Art. Tanjiro, you good?"
Tanjiro gripped his blade with both hands, confidence in his voice. "Absolutely!"
It had been a month since Charles and Tanjiro trained under Sakonji Urokodaki. Over that month the two received formal instruction in the Breathing Styles.
Of course, most of the time had gone into training Tanjiro.
After absorbing Urokodaki's experience, Charles quickly perfected his own Breathing and mastered Total Concentration. Soon after, he could maintain Total Concentration Constant twenty-four hours a day.
Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, he hadn't found a way to awaken a Mark or enter the supreme realm of the Transparent World.
By Charles's conjecture, after entering a Marked state, a swordsman who had absorbed excess natural mana would undergo a change in physique. The life force he emitted would make it easier for those around him to draw in natural mana.
That was the reason Marks were said to be "contagious."
Charles had no idea how to awaken a Mark himself. To awaken one and resolve its erosion of lifespan would likely have to wait until the first Marked swordsman appeared.
He and Urokodaki then drafted a new training plan for Tanjiro.
Urokodaki was already considered the Corps' strictest trainer, but only after seeing Charles's regimen did he realize he'd been too gentle.
"A boy like Tanjiro can't be overtrained," Charles told him.
Of course, he had the confidence to say that because he brought out all kinds of potions; without them, the regimen would have killed a person in under three days.
Even so, Tanjiro felt like he'd taken a tour through hell.
The payoff was Tanjiro's rapid growth. He could now wield Sun Breathing with ease and enter Total Concentration.
He had even developed early the ability to sniff out the thread of openings and could control it deftly in battle.
In combat, he had truly come into his own, like a blade newly honed.
However, maintaining Constant with Sun Breathing was far harder than with standard styles, and his body wasn't yet strong enough to bear it.
Over that month, the Corps delivered the high-grade Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand and Scarlet Crimson Ore Charles requested, and the Nichirin in Tanjiro's hands was forged by Charles.
In the original story, the smith Haganezuka was responsible for Tanjiro's Nichirin.
At first he balked at someone requesting raw materials instead of having the Swordsmith Village do the forging. But after watching Charles forge, he dropped to the floor in prostration, sobbing as he begged to take Charles as his master.
It wasn't so much that Charles was moved by his sincerity as he was startled by his obsession with forging, so Charles gave him part of his forging notes.
As in the original, once Tanjiro gripped the finished blade, it turned a black like obsidian.
Charles himself had no need of a Nichirin; he already had his own weapon.
A Nichirin is a special blade fused with natural mana, whereas Charles's inherent armament was condensed pure mana, effectively a Red Blade of natural mana in its active state.
Charles rather wanted Muzan's review on which hurt more: his War Saint or Yoriichi's Red Blade!
With their goals on Mount Sagiri complete, the group continued their journey.
The Corps also sent a kasugai crow—the same chatterbox that followed Tanjiro in the original—to serve as their link.
With the Corps' intel backing them, they kept up their training as they cut down demons on the road.
Over a dozen days, they encountered five demons in all, and Zhiluo was the first among them with a Blood Demon Art.
Demons were not truly rampant; only Muzan himself and a few of the higher-ranked Upper Moons could turn humans into demons.
Coupled with the Corps' tireless battles, their numbers stayed relatively low.
By danger level, demons roughly fell into three types. The lowest were those with only a trace of the Demon King's blood.
Like the one Tanjiro met on Mount Sagiri in the original—stronger than humans but within limits, and with slow regeneration.
The next level were aberrant demons, whose bodies had twisted into inhuman forms, sprouting limbs or organs humans didn't have.
A typical example was the Hand Demon Tanjiro faced during the Final Selection—massive, with dozens of arms, scarcely human in shape.
The one he later met with spider-like legs also belonged to this type.
Though they lacked Blood Demon Arts, their special physiques and far superior attributes made them plenty dangerous.
Above them were the demons with Blood Demon Arts, powers gained by consuming large numbers of humans.
Of course, the strength within this category varied greatly.
And the Zhiluo before them, though he had a Blood Demon Art, was frankly not one of the strong ones.
Against this sort of opponent, Charles had no intention of making a move. Even for Tanjiro, this didn't amount to more than a light test.
Tanjiro drew in white breath with a hint of sparks and then rushed Zhiluo.
Zhiluo thrust out a palm, and the outstretched hair exploded in growth.
His ability resembled that of Lower Rank Five, Rui. But while Rui's Thread Prison possessed edge and strength enough to sever a Nichirin, Zhiluo's hair lacked much power.
Its advantage was sheer quantity—enough to cocoon a person and strangle them, or to thread in through nose and mouth to wreak havoc inside the body.
As the surging mass of hair swept in like a tide, Tanjiro's arms moved.
"Hinokami Kagura: Raging Sun!"
With flames on the blade, he carved two symmetrical red arcs through the air, and the onrushing hair snapped cleanly.
Tanjiro stepped in, and the fire-wreathed edge followed through.
Zhiluo saw only the hair instantly severed, turning to ash in the fire—before Tanjiro reached him.
"Hinokami Kagura: Round Dance!"
A ring of flames swept out, and Zhiluo felt his vision begin to spin.
Dimly, he seemed to see someone sitting before him, and he was holding a comb, gently brushing the person's hair.
Sunlight spilled before his eyes, keeping him from seeing the face in the mirror.
Sheathing his blade, Tanjiro watched Zhiluo's head crumble to ash and fell silent.
Demons were indeed empty and pitiful beings. Every time he slew one, Tanjiro felt the same. It only steeled his resolve to cut down Muzan Kibutsuji.
Charles said, "Looks like you can handle this level easily now. Next, we should look for opponents at the Twelve Kizuki level!"
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