Seeing the crawling demon refuse to speak, Aoyama swung his Nichirin Blade and severed its head.
Ding! Host has slain a demon. Reward: 50 gold.
Aoyama's lips twitched in disdain.
Gold?
Only fifty?
Just how low-ranking was that thing?
Still, even without extracting information, he had learned something important—
The demons in this town were organized.
That was new.
Normally, Muzan scattered demons apart. They might not be able to truly kill one another, but they were cautious, even competitive.
But here?
They were coordinated.
Hidden.
Structured.
Was this also Muzan's doing?
Aoyama pondered as he glanced at the bed.
Nezuko had already fallen asleep again.
Every time she slept, she simply collapsed without even covering herself.
He pulled the blanket over her gently.
Dawn wasn't far off.
He shut the window and drew the curtains tightly, making sure no sunlight would leak in when morning came.
The next day.
Holding the token he'd found in the cave, Aoyama walked through the lively marketplace.
The demonic scent from last night had completely vanished.
The town had returned to its cheerful, peaceful façade.
A drunken man stumbled toward him in broad daylight, two swords hanging from his waist—not Nichirin, but clearly a swordsman.
The moment he saw the token in Aoyama's hand, he grabbed his arm.
"You—you met the Master? Did he assign you a new task? Why haven't I seen you before?"
Aoyama narrowed his eyes.
"You recognize this token? Who is this 'Master'?"
He grabbed the man by the collar.
The drunk smashed his wine jar to the ground in anger.
"That's the Master's secret order! I'm one of his house swordsmen! Of course I know! I—I have one too!"
He frantically searched his body.
No token.
His face went pale.
He staggered off to look for it.
By sunset, the alcohol had worn off.
The man crouched by the river, sobbing.
He had lost his token while drunk.
Aoyama appeared behind him and tossed the cave token onto the ground in front of him.
"I'll give you this," Aoyama said calmly. "But you tell me who your Master is—and where. I want to meet him."
The man hesitated.
Then gritted his teeth.
"I'll tell you! If you can meet the Master… take me with you!"
"Fine."
"I need to confront him! I completed my mission—why won't he let me return to the estate to report? I need to restore my reputation—"
Aoyama had no patience for rambling.
He turned and walked away.
The man hurried to follow and led the way.
They arrived at a grand, lavish estate.
This was the Master's residence.
With such wealth, hiring swordsmen to serve him wasn't unusual.
But the moment Aoyama stepped before the gate—
A thick demonic aura washed over him.
Mixed with faint blood.
There was no doubt.
A demon resided here.
The man stepped forward to knock.
Before he could—
Aoyama drew his blade and slashed twice across the gate.
Then he kicked it open.
The doors collapsed inward.
"You—!"
The man stared in shock.
Aoyama strode inside.
The courtyard was vast.
Silent.
Too silent.
"W-Where is everyone?" the man whispered.
Aoyama sheathed his blade and glanced at the last sliver of sunlight fading over the horizon.
"Soon," he said quietly. "When the sun sets, you'll see them."
Darkness fell.
Instantly—
Every room in the estate lit up.
Through the windows, shadows of figures moved back and forth.
The drunken swordsman's scalp prickled.
The main hall doors creaked open.
A warrior stepped out.
No—
Not a warrior anymore.
Blood stained his lips.
He had already eaten.
"Wuichiro! What happened to you?!" the man cried, rushing forward.
The figure grabbed him by the throat.
Its mouth opened wide to bite.
"W-What's going on?!"
The man struggled helplessly.
Aoyama sighed.
Bringing a normal person was such a hassle.
He flashed forward, blade drawn.
One clean strike.
The demon's head hit the ground.
Blood sprayed across the man's face.
Ding! Host has slain a demon. Reward: 50 gold.
Another low-level one.
Aoyama's irritation deepened.
He hadn't come here to waste time on fodder.
He pulled the token from the man's waist, tossed it into the air—
And sliced it in half.
Instantly—
The estate stirred.
A black shadow shot from the hall toward him.
Aoyama raised his blade and blocked.
The attacker halted.
Eight eyes.
Eight grotesque, writhing eyeballs covering its face.
Disgusting.
Aoyama kicked it hard, sending it flying.
The man trembled violently.
"M-M-Master…"
"AAAAAH!"
Overwhelmed, he turned and fled through the broken gate.
Aoyama glanced at his retreating back and clicked his tongue.
Such mental fortitude—
And he wanted to come along?
Pathetic.
The eight-eyed demon stood up.
This was the estate's Master—
Jianghu Ichiro.
Transformed by Muzan's blood.
Its aura was far heavier than the cave demons.
Not even comparable.
"ROOOAAAR—!"
The estate trembled.
From every corner—
Demons poured into the courtyard.
They surrounded Aoyama completely.
He scanned them calmly.
Twenty.
Maybe thirty.
All summoned by that single roar.
Under the moonlight—
Aoyama stood alone in the center.
Encircled.
And smiling faintly.
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