Half an hour later, outside the main gate of the Butterfly Mansion.
The three fully armed "cockroaches" were already standing in formation with their packs on their backs.
Tanjiro was carrying the wooden box containing Nezuko, looking spirited.
Zenitsu's face was written with the despair of "I don't want to live anymore".
Inosuke was wearing his boar mask, restlessly pacing in place.
Standing in front of them was a logistics member belonging to the Demon Slayer Corps' Kakushi unit. His name was Goto, with most of his face covered, and he looked very nervous.
"Um... Yamada-sama."
Goto gulped, pulled several thick black cloth strips and some strange nose plugs from the cloth bag on his back, and bit the bullet to speak.
"According to the highest confidentiality regulations of the Demon Slayer Corps, anyone traveling to the Swordsmith Village, regardless of rank, must have their eyes covered and their ears and noses plugged. Then, we members of the Kakushi will carry you in stages, constantly changing guides along the way, to ensure that the village's location is absolutely not leaked."
Speaking up to this point, Goto glanced at Yamada's half-smiling face, and his legs couldn't help but tremble slightly.
Are you kidding?
Make this god of slaughter, who dared to press all the Hashira into the ground, wear a blindfold and nose plugs, and be carried around like a sack?
He didn't doubt for a second that if he made this request, he would be cleaved in two by the other party with a single sword stroke.
As expected.
Yamada looked at the "confidentiality kit" that Goto handed over and sneered.
"Blindfold? Nose plugs?"
Yamada gripped the hilt of his Kusanagi Sword with one hand, his cold gaze sweeping over Goto.
"Your master personally promised to grant me the seat of Special Executive Officer, unbound by any corps rules. Now you want me to be transported like cargo, blind as a bat—do you think these rules apply to me?"
Goto was so scared he knelt on the ground, cold sweat soaking his back.
"Yamada-sama, please calm down. I have absolutely no intention of offending you. It's just that the rules of the Swordsmith Village have been passed down for centuries. If they are broken, it will be hard to explain to Master."
"There's nothing hard to explain. Since Muzan has already touched the threshold of the Swordsmith Village, your so-called confidentiality measures have long become a joke." Yamada's tone was unquestionable.
"I'll only say this once. Hand over the map, or you lead the way. As for the blindfolds..."
He glanced at Tanjiro and the other two, who were still dazed. "Just have those three wear them. Their brains don't work well anyway, they won't remember the way."
"Eh?! Why do only we have to wear them?" Zenitsu screamed in a breakdown.
But Goto felt as if he had been granted amnesty, how could he dare to say another word of nonsense?
He scrambled to his feet, quickly put the blindfolds and nose plugs on Tanjiro and the others, and then respectfully made a gesture of invitation to Yamada.
"Yamada-sama, please follow me closely. This part of the journey is quite complicated, we need to cross several mountains."
"Just lead the way. So much chatter."
And so, a strange procession set off.
Goto, walking in the lead, was carrying Tanjiro—who was tied up and had his senses plugged—as he sprinted through the forest.
Zenitsu and Inosuke were carried and swapped by two other members of the Kakushi.
As for Yamada, he followed behind them as if he were taking a leisurely stroll. No matter how the Kakushi members demonstrated their stealth techniques, or how they circled around and swapped guides in the deep mountains and old forests with no paths, Yamada always maintained a distance of less than five meters from them. He didn't even have his breathing rhythm disrupted.
Under the observation of the Sharingan, this route, which seemed like a maze to ordinary people, was as clear as a straight line drawn on white paper.
Time passed swiftly while traveling.
Day and night alternated.
When everyone crossed the last mountain ridge shrouded in thick fog, a faint scent of sulfur mixed with the heat of hot springs rushed toward them.
"Yamada-sama, we have arrived."
The Kakushi member responsible for the final leg of the journey stopped and removed the blindfolds and nose plugs from Tanjiro and the others' faces.
Tanjiro took a deep breath, and his sense of smell, which had been somewhat chaotic from having his nose plugged for so long, instantly recovered.
He opened his eyes and looked down. He saw that nestled within the embrace of the mountains, a well-arranged village was quietly hidden at the bottom of the basin.
Rising white steam could be seen everywhere in the village, that was the sign of natural hot springs.
And deeper within the village, several tall chimneys were spewing sparks day and night, and one could faintly hear the dull, rhythmic sound of blacksmithing echoing through the valley.
This place was the cornerstone of the Demon Slayer Corps' slaying of demons, the birthplace of all nichirin blades—the Swordsmith Village.
"What a magnificent village! And the air is full of the smell of burning iron and charcoal!" Tanjiro exclaimed.
Yamada stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at this tranquil village from a high vantage point.
In the eyes of ordinary people, this was a peaceful paradise. But in the field of vision of Yamada's Sharingan, an extremely subtle aura had already begun to permeate the mountain forests surrounding the village.
"It seems those rats can no longer resist wanting to enter the fray."