The silver moonlight filtered through the canopy of the Silver-Leafed Osmanthus tree, casting a gentle, ethereal glow over the two tiny Twin-Tailed Emerald Finches. They were completely oblivious to the apex predators standing just a few dozen feet away on the veranda.
They simply huddled closer against the cool night breeze, their soft, melodic chirps blending into the ambient symphony of the garden.
Yoriichi stood with his hands resting easily at his sides, his crimson eyes observing the small creatures with a profound, unshakeable tranquility.
"Look at them," Yoriichi said, his voice barely a whisper, smooth and calm so as not to startle the birds. "Those two are just happy. They possess emotions, much like we do. They seek warmth, they seek companionship, and they rest when the day is done."
Xiao Zhan stood beside the youth, his brow slightly furrowed. He was a 5-Star Da Dou Shi, a man whose hands had been stained with the blood of both men and magical beasts to secure his clan's survival.
To him, low-level spirit birds were nothing more than background noise, trivial existences in a brutal world. Yet, hearing Yoriichi speak with such quiet reverence forced the Patriarch to truly look at them.
"They may be sitting in branches that grow on land owned by the Xiao Clan," Yoriichi continued, his gaze never leaving the finches. "But tell me, Patriarch... is there any problem with them sitting there?"
Xiao Zhan blinked, slightly taken aback by the simplicity of the question. He silently shook his head, indicating no.
"Hmm," Yoriichi murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible softness touching his stoic features. "In truth, we should be thankful to them. They ask for nothing from us, yet they add such beautiful scenery to our eyes. Just gazing at them, existing in their simple harmony, brings a sense of peace to a weary mind. Right?"
Xiao Zhan thought for a few seconds. He let the tension bleed from his broad shoulders and allowed himself to simply observe the innocent affection between the two birds.
For a man burdened by the constant threat of rival clans and economic warfare, this fleeting moment of pure, untainted nature was indeed a rare comfort. Slowly, the Patriarch nodded his head in agreement.
The garden remained peaceful for another breath. And then, Yoriichi's tone shifted. It did not become loud or aggressive, but it took on a heavy, chilling gravity that seemed to lower the temperature of the veranda.
"What if," Yoriichi proposed, his voice slicing through the serene atmosphere like a drawn blade, "I were to take a hunting knife right now? What if I stealthily climbed up that tree, utilizing my Dou Qi to mask my presence, and captured them?"
Xiao Zhan's head snapped toward the youth, his eyes widening.
"Maybe," Yoriichi continued smoothly, "I am slightly hungry. Or maybe, I simply know that the flesh of spirit birds, even low-level ones, is a delicacy that will marginally strengthen my physical body. What if I broke their necks and ate those two harmless creatures, simply because I desired their essence?"
Yoriichi turned his head, his deep crimson eyes locking onto Xiao Zhan's. "What do you think of this scenario, Patriarch?"
Xiao Zhan's breath hitched. A sudden, uncomfortable knot formed in his stomach, and a flicker of genuine fear and revulsion etched itself onto his seasoned face.
Usually, the slaughter of a beast was an afterthought. Cultivators killed Rank 1 and Rank 2 beasts by the dozens on a daily basis for their cores, fur, and meat. It was the absolute, unquestionable law of the Dou Qi Continent: The strong prey on the weak.
But the way Yoriichi had framed it—forcing Xiao Zhan to observe their innocence, their affection, and their harmless nature right before proposing their abrupt, violent murder for a negligible gain—made the act feel grotesque. Their painful cries, whimpers and struggle gripped his heart.
It stripped away the glorious veneer of "cultivation" and laid bare the absolute, merciless cruelty of predation.
Xiao Zhan's mind raced. He tried to process the profound discomfort blooming in his chest. His thinking was spiraling when Yoriichi's calm, level voice broke through his thoughts once more.
"What is their fault?" Yoriichi asked, the question hanging in the air like a judge's gavel. "Is their only crime being weaker than us? Is it simply because of our inherent greed, or the fact that we are powerful, that we feel entitled to do anything we please to those beneath us?"
Yoriichi turned his gaze back to the vast, star-filled sky. In his mind's eye, he saw the grotesque, mutated forms of the demons from his past life. He saw Muzan Kibutsuji, a creature who slaughtered and devoured innocent humans not out of malice, but out of a twisted, arrogant belief that he was a higher lifeform entitled to their flesh for his own survival and power.
To Yoriichi, consuming another sentient, living being purely to steal its strength and take a shortcut in power was the very definition of a demon.
"Every living being has a right to live," Yoriichi stated, his words carrying the weight of a supreme Dao, a philosophical truth that resonated with the very worldly energy surrounding them.
"They are also products of nature, just like us. They breathe the same air and sleep beneath the same moon. We need to respect them. I am a swordsman. I will kill to protect my family, I will kill to defend my life, and I will hunt if starvation demands it. But if they do not bother us... if they pose no threat... why would we selfishly end their existence just to pad our own strength?"