Born to Kill Demons

The next day, Han Zhiqi woke from his daze. Bracing himself against the floor, he struggled to sit up and looked around.

The brownish-yellow wooden walls, the bamboo basket hanging on the wall—everything was exactly as he had seen it last night, confirming that none of it had been a dream.

How fortunate. He had actually escaped death.

Han Zhiqi lowered his head, unable to stop a faint smile from appearing.

Though he had survived the ordeal, his body was in utterly dreadful shape. His head felt heavy, his mouth was bitter, his stomach churned with nausea, and worst of all, not a single part of him did not hurt. It was as though his body had slipped beyond his soul's control.

Han Zhiqi struggled to climb up from the floor. Just a few ordinary movements left him dizzy and seeing black. If he had not been holding onto the wall, he would likely have collapsed face-first onto the floor again.

Supporting himself against the wall, Han Zhiqi carefully felt his way toward the doorway. The distance of only a few steps felt as long as a century. Finally reaching the entrance, he sat down on a stone stool against the wall.

The sunlight was painfully bright. Judging by the sun's position, he guessed it was around eight or nine in the morning.

Sunlight, air, trees, flowers, grass—everything was so peaceful and quiet, so beautiful.

But who could have imagined that just yesterday, on this very mountain, a vicious demon had been lurking, and he had nearly become its food?

Even thinking about it now sent a chill down his spine.

A hazy figure appeared at the path leading down the mountain.

The man wore grayish-white hemp clothes and had a sturdy build, his steps steady. He carried a short-handled hoe in his right hand and a bamboo basket on his back. In moments, he had reached Han Zhiqi.

Lang Beiwei walked straight into the wooden house. As he passed Han Zhiqi, he gave a sly chuckle. "Well, well, rude boy. You're finally awake."

Leaning against the wall, Han Zhiqi did not answer. He could smell a faint scent of blood and fish coming from the bamboo basket.

Sure enough, not long after Lang Beiwei entered the house, he came back out carrying an iron basin full of water. A smaller bowl floated on the surface, holding a dead pheasant and a carp.

Lang Beiwei took a short stool and sat beside Han Zhiqi at the doorway. He began bleeding and plucking the pheasant, and a thick smell of blood spread through the air.

"I caught this on the mountain for you this morning. They say old hen soup is good for recovery. We don't have any old hens here, so you'll have to make do with a pheasant. The effect should be about the same."

Han Zhiqi's stomach was already full of sour bile. The smell of blood made him even dizzier and more nauseated, and he could not help suspecting that the old man had deliberately chosen to sit here.

"Can't you clean it somewhere else? Do you have to stay here?" As he spoke, he clung to the wall and dry-heaved.

Seeing Han Zhiqi in such a miserable state, Lang Beiwei burst into laughter, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Ha! Look at you now. Weren't you so capable last night?"

Just as I thought. This old bastard is doing it on purpose to get back at me.

After laughing, Lang Beiwei carried the basin to a spot not far from Han Zhiqi. From there, Han Zhiqi would not have to smell the blood, but they could still hear each other clearly.

The two fell silent for a moment.

"Hey, rude boy." Lang Beiwei broke the silence first. Sitting beside a living person without saying anything felt awkward to him.

"Why did you decide to fight a demon yesterday? You're just a greenhorn. You've barely even seen any demons, and you didn't have a Nichirin Blade. The only possible outcome was getting eaten. What were you thinking?"

Han Zhiqi had not expected the old man to be curious about that. At the mention of it, an inexplicable surge of anger rose within him, and he let out a cold laugh.

"Hmph. You've got the nerve to ask? A demon entered your territory, yet you, the mountain-guarding trainer, did nothing about it. Running into people like you was the worst luck of my life. And that woman too—if she did not want to see me off, then fine. But before leaving, she just had to spout that pointless line. Completely unnecessary."

Han Zhiqi vented all the resentment in his heart at once. When he finished, he leaned against the wall and panted heavily, leaving Lang Beiwei staring in stunned disbelief, thoroughly disheveled by the wind.

After a moment, Lang Beiwei came back to his senses and snapped furiously, "Bullshit! Who told you this mountain is my territory? I'm not some mountain god! And even if there are demons here, what the hell does that have to do with me? I'm only a trainer, not a full-time demon slayer. Am I supposed to chase demons around all day? If trainers all went off killing demons, what would we need you for?"

After listening to Lang Beiwei's tirade, Han Zhiqi vaguely understood what a trainer was supposed to be.

By the old man's reasoning, it was indeed unfair to place the responsibility on him. White Dragon Mountain was enormous and far from human settlements, so it was perfectly normal for one or two demons to appear.

If anyone was to blame, then after thinking it through, he could only blame himself for overcomplicating the whole matter.

Silence fell between them again as Lang Beiwei gloomily cleaned out the pheasant's innards.

After an unknown amount of time, it was Han Zhiqi who broke the silence this time.

"I thought that demon was part of the test for climbing the mountain. That woman took me to the foot of the mountain and told me, 'I can only take you this far. You'll have to walk the rest of the way yourself.' On top of that, a demon appeared in a trainer's territory. The whole thing seemed suspicious."

"So you thought I had arranged a test for you?"

Han Zhiqi answered with silence.

"Running away was the worst option. Once my strength ran out and the demon caught up, there would be no way out. At first, I planned to stall for time and wait for you to act, but you never showed yourself. That was when I began to suspect it might not be a test—that I had really encountered a demon. By then, running was no longer realistic. I could only use a martial skill to temporarily restrict its movements and use its screams to tell you where I was. That was... that was all."

Though Han Zhiqi spoke lightly of it, Lang Beiwei could imagine just how dire the situation had been.

Dragging around such a battered body, he had still managed to contend with a demon for so long. Beyond his unyielding will and fierce desire to survive, the boy's calm mind and precise grasp of the situation were even more admirable.

Muzan Kibutsuji had vanished for nearly a century, only daring to reappear after Tsugikuni Yoriichi had died.

Nearly an entire generation had been lost in the meantime, and the Demon Slayer Corps had likewise grown complacent for a generation. There were truly not many people in the current Demon Slayer Corps with such a sharp mind.

"Hmph. You're fairly clever. In such a desperate situation, you still managed to think calmly and use the demon's screams to send me a distress signal. At least I didn't save your life for nothing. Have you encountered demons before?"

Without some degree of experience, how could he have handled himself so calmly? Ordinary people would be scared to death upon seeing a demon, much less fight one.

At the mention of demons, Han Zhiqi remembered the night his sister had been taken away. Every wound on his body began to throb with a burning pain.

"Something like that. These injuries were left by a demon. I've escaped being killed by demons twice in a row. Looks like I was born to kill demons."