According to the original setting, it seemed more like a "disease" that could drain oneself dry—and a contagious one at that.
But it also seemed like a lingering force from the Mystic Side, left behind by the world to target demons. Muzan felt that the world of Demon Slayer was scientific, yet not entirely scientific.
Rather than some grand conspiracy, it seemed more like different rules from different worlds.
Like Newton's laws—a rule that could be studied further, but was already an established principle.
The demons under his command definitely would not draw much hatred toward him, but to prevent himself from truly being punished by Yoriichi, or reaching the final plot and getting a game over, Muzan still needed to prepare thoroughly.
Demons survived by eating humans. That fact had already locked demons and humans into opposing sides.
Under the curse, the Ubuyashiki family would also oppose him forever.
And besides, would there be the power of the plot?
Like those senior transmigrators, would he have to fight against the power of the plot?
After spending an entire day lost in wild thoughts, Muzan suddenly looked at Jikou. "Let's go find Tamayo!"
Jikou: "???"
He had been watching his boss frown in thought, occasionally scratching his head, when he suddenly heard that sentence and was left utterly confused.
Who was Tamayo? Why were they looking for her?
Muzan stood and looked at the night sky, where a crescent moon had already risen. "Let's go!"
No matter what, he had to win Tamayo over first!
She was the best support character in the original work, with absurdly impressive medical skills. That proved her learning ability was also exceptional. If given time to study and research, perhaps she could solve his doubts.
Yoriichi, the Head Pillar, and little cutie Nezuko were all people he needed to keep a close eye on.
As he instructed the demons under him to keep watch for Tamayo and notify him once they found her, he moved through the darkness.
There was no rushing the search for Tamayo. He should do something else first—improve his strength.
Muzan brought Jikou to a dojo.
All fear came from insufficient "firepower." With Yoriichi weighing on his mind, he did not dare relax.
Things like Scarlet Traces and the Clear World in the original work had to be developed bit by bit. They depended on opportunity and required him to break through his limits. With his current strength, that was practically impossible. Who could even injure him now?
But he could learn some techniques!
Ordinary humans could kill demons through training. Then if he, the Demon King, learned swordsmanship, blade techniques, and fighting skills, and trained continuously for several hundred years, how far could he rise?
Perhaps the owner of the dojo truly had some skill. The moment night fell, the two arrived at the entrance seeking instruction. For some reason, the Master of the Dojo instinctively felt that neither of them was a good person and refused to teach them.
But under Muzan's money offensive, the Master of the Dojo eventually agreed.
The Master of the Dojo led the two inside. Though he had failed to resist the temptation of the enormous reward, he was still uneasy and solemnly asked again:
"Can you promise me that you will not use what you learn from me to commit evil?"
Seeing how serious he was, Muzan put away his playful smile and promised, "Don't worry. Absolutely not!"
The Master of the Dojo looked at Jikou again. "What about you?"
Jikou glanced at Muzan before nodding as well.
The Master of the Dojo sighed, walked to the rack by the wall, picked up two wooden swords, and solemnly placed them before them.
"The Shadowless Sword Style focuses on offense. Before ordinary people learn it, they must first temper their hearts. The moment you pick up these wooden swords, I become your master. But I need to know why you want to learn the sword."
Muzan answered without hesitation, "For self-defense!"
Muzan's words were entirely sincere, without the slightest lie.
The Master of the Dojo had not expected Muzan to answer so readily, and he even seemed to mean it from the bottom of his heart.
Moreover, the reason was perfectly reasonable. In this increasingly chaotic era, where Maneating Demons even ran rampant, learning swordsmanship to protect oneself was only natural.
It might not have sounded lofty, but it was realistic.
He turned to Jikou again. "And you?"
Jikou's expression became somewhat awkward. After several seconds, he scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't really want to learn. I'm just accompanying my boss."
Muzan shot Jikou a sidelong glance. Why was he suddenly being so honest?
Through his connection to demons, he secretly told him, "If you don't want to learn, then get lost somewhere cool and stay there!"
The Master of the Dojo's expression also seemed to turn rather unpleasant at Jikou's words. You were learning his swordsmanship and still acting unwilling?!
Jikou awkwardly rubbed his nose and hurriedly slipped away beneath the unfriendly gazes of Muzan and the Master of the Dojo.
"Sorry. He's... a little slow."
From then on, Muzan followed the Master of the Dojo's routine every day. He first went through all sorts of absurd "heart-tempering" exercises. As long as they did not require exposure to sunlight, Muzan completed them calmly.
Although the Master of the Dojo found it strange that Muzan had a "skin condition" that prevented him from being in the sun, he was deeply satisfied with Muzan's steady mindset and gentle temperament.
He increasingly felt that his impression from that day had been nothing but a pure misunderstanding.
Afterward, Muzan began formal training. From practicing the basics to learning sword forms and techniques, everything came as smoothly as flowing clouds and running water. The Master of the Dojo was astonished by Muzan's powerful physique and delighted by his extraordinary talent.
The other students in the dojo also noticed this newly arrived "junior brother," a genius of the sword.
And he was loaded.
He treated others kindly, had a gentle personality, did not flaunt his talent, and even occasionally helped guide the other students.
This gave Muzan an excellent reputation in the dojo, but it also made him somewhat impatient. Some young girls whose hearts had just begun to flutter always liked coming over to look at him. That was nothing—looking would not cost him a pound of flesh—but the senior and junior brothers who constantly came to ask him for advice often interrupted him.
It was damn annoying!
Some even coveted his money. Never overestimate the lower limits of human nature; there would always be people trying to take petty advantage through moral coercion.
What finally made Muzan unable to endure it any longer was that, one night, after he had just dealt with the senior and junior brothers seeking advice, someone informed him that his master was waiting for him in the woods behind the dojo.
When Muzan went over in confusion, he discovered he had been tricked. The one who had summoned him was not his master, but a "challenger."
Izumi, who was also studying at the dojo.
Muzan had noticed him before, because Izumi would occasionally look at him with eyes full of hatred. But Muzan had not cared much. He was only here to learn swordsmanship.
With an infinite lifespan, he could not be bothered caring about a weakling who could only live a few decades.
But being tricked into coming here naturally made Muzan, already irritated to the extreme by all the questions, even more displeased.
Izumi gripped the sword at his waist with one hand and glared at Muzan through gritted teeth.
"I challenge you!"
A wooden sword hung at Muzan's waist, and his expression darkened. "I'm not in the mood."
Out of respect for the Master of the Dojo, Muzan still did not want to kill him.
But Izumi clearly did not realize that Muzan was giving him a chance to live. Seeing Muzan's attitude, he felt utterly slighted and roared furiously:
"Who the hell are you pretending to be?!"
Muzan frowned. His gloomy expression made Izumi shudder instinctively. Izumi hurriedly drew the iron sword at his waist. With a clang, the blade left its sheath. Looking at the wooden sword at Muzan's waist gave him a little more confidence.
Before you continue