At the bottom of the deep pit, the tragic state of Akaza was shocking to behold.
His martial arts-honed body, which he was so proud of, now had a completely collapsed chest. His limbs were twisted at bizarre angles, and jagged white bone fragments pierced through his skin, which was covered in deep blue tattoos.
Even as one of the Twelve Kizuki with high-speed regenerative abilities far beyond common sense, his body's repair speed had slowed down under the absolute crushing of that pure power just now.
"Cough... cough..."
Blood mixed with fragments of internal organs constantly welled up from Akaza's mouth.
Those eyes, engraved with golden characters, stared fixedly at Yamada standing on the edge of the pit. There was no anger, only a sense of vacancy after the collapse of his beliefs.
What exactly was that layer of purplish-red ribs? Why could a human master such unreasonable power?
His own Destructive Death: Annihilation Type hadn't even been able to leave a white mark on it.
"Why are you spacing out? Your severed hand has grown back." Yamada's voice came from above.
He walked slowly down the slope into the deep pit, his boots making a crisp sound as they stepped on the gravel.
Hearing this voice, Kyojuro, who was standing dozens of meters away, finally snapped out of it. He suddenly gripped his nichirin blade and prepared to rush forward with great strides.
"Yamada-san! Please let me assist you! While he cannot move, let us take this Upper Rank's head in one blow!" His voice was as loud as ever, but his tone carried a new layer of respect, treating Yamada as the core of their group.
"Stay where you are."
Yamada didn't even look back, he simply raised his left hand casually and made a 'stop' gesture.
"Watch those three brats and don't let the civilians on the train get close. I have other uses for this guy's life."
Kyojuro stopped in his tracks abruptly. Though full of doubt, he had witnessed Yamada's strength and knew he wasn't the type to let an enemy escape out of arrogance. Thus, he decisively sheathed his sword and turned to protect Tanjiro and the others behind him.
At the bottom of the pit.
Yamada walked up to Akaza, crouched down, grabbed his short pink hair, and forcibly pulled up his pale face.
"If you want to kill me, then kill me." Akaza gritted his teeth.
His remaining left hand tried to form a fist, but it hung limply due to torn muscles.
"Kill you? That's easy, of course."
Yamada gave a cold laugh, and his deep black pupils instantly turned a blood-red. Three tomoe spun rapidly in his pupils, eventually connecting end-to-end to form an eerie and complex hexagram pattern.
Mangekyo Sharingan!
The moment those eyes met Akaza's, Yamada had already quickly calculated the entire grand game ahead in his mind.
The leader of the Twelve Kizuki, Kibutsuji Muzan, who had lived for a thousand years, was a notoriously top-tier coward.
Once Muzan learned that a monster had appeared in this world who could use Susanoo and crush Akaza without even drawing a nichirin blade, he would absolutely recall all the Upper Ranks to the Infinity Castle immediately and hide himself away for good.
At that point, if Yamada wanted to find people to farm Dimension Points, the difficulty would increase geometrically.
Killing one Akaza would yield a few thousand points, but if he used Akaza as bait to fish out the remaining Upper Rank One, Upper Rank Two, and even Muzan himself, that would be an incalculable astronomical sum.
"So, I'll have to trouble you to be my messenger." Yamada murmured softly.
Genjutsu: Sharingan!
Buzz!
Akaza's body suddenly stiffened, the light in his eyes instantly dissipated, and his golden pupils lost focus.
Under the powerful interference of the Sharingan, Yamada's spirit invaded the depths of Akaza's brain.
What he needed to do now was to exquisitely tamper with Akaza's memories of tonight, just like editing a movie.
In the false memory woven by Yamada, the course of this battle was completely rewritten.
The purple Susanoo was erased from the memory frames by Yamada. In its place, Kyojuro had desperately activated his Demon Slayer Mark, unleashing the Esoteric Art of Flame Breathing that surpassed his limits.
As for Yamada himself, he was modified into a mysterious swordsman who mastered a variant of Thunder Breathing.
In the memory, Yamada held a black sword and, together with Kyojuro on his left and right, coordinated with Tanjiro's Hinokami Kagura to launch a brutal siege against Akaza.
In the fake images, Akaza showed great prowess, using his Destructive Death to beat Kyojuro until he was covered in blood, and Tanjiro fell heavily to the ground.
Although Yamada barely managed to maneuver, he also suffered internal injuries and could only struggle to hold on.
Just as Akaza was about to kill this group of meddlesome Demon Slayers with a single punch, a piercing whitish light appeared on the eastern horizon.
Dawn had arrived.
To avoid the lethal sunlight, Akaza, who held the absolute upper hand, could only let out an unwilling roar, give up the chance to kill everyone, and turn to flee into the deep mountains.
"This is perfect."
Yamada looked at this flawless 'recording' in his consciousness space and nodded with satisfaction.
As long as this memory was read by Muzan, Muzan would reach a conclusion: the Demon Slayer Corps had a troublesome newcomer, and the Flame Hashira was also very desperate, but even together, these people could only barely withstand Akaza's attacks.
As long as he sent higher-ranking Upper Ranks next time, or two Upper Ranks joined forces, he could wipe out these elites of the Demon Slayer Corps in one fell swoop.
As long as Muzan still held onto hope, he would continuously send heads to Yamada's doorstep.