What Kind of Blood Demon Art Is This Oddity

Clearly, Izumi's intention wasn't just to challenge him. Luring him into a secluded forest, wielding a sharpened iron sword, he had already decided to kill.

Muzan didn't draw his sword and suddenly smiled:

"I wonder why you want to take my life."

"Hehehe..." Izumi let out a few cold laughs. "I just don't like the look of you! It's all your fault! The Master was going to pass the dojo on to me! Even Sakurako likes you! Why!

Just because you're good-looking?! Stop pretending all day! If it weren't for you, I'd still be the most popular one in the dojo! It's all your fault!

Ever since you arrived, I've lost everything!"

His face became even more distorted with jealousy and resentment, his voice sharp and sinister: "I'm going to kill you! Kill you!!!"

"I see..."

Muzan nodded. So the Master had intended to pass the dojo on to him?

Muzan took a step closer, completely unfazed by the blade pointed at him. He looked at Izumi, whose face was contorted with resentment and whose arms were trembling, and smiled:

"Then do you want to know why I'm so talented?"

Muzan's nonchalant demeanor made Izumi's heart falter. He subconsciously took half a step back, realizing his disadvantage. Enraged, he took a firm step forward:

"Why?!"

Muzan grinned. Under the moonlight, two sharp fangs were revealed, his crimson pupils no longer hidden:

"Because I'm a demon!"

"Gulp..."

At that moment, all of Izumi's thoughts vanished, and fear consumed his mind.

"Demon..."

He let out a yell and turned to run, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a giant maw lunged, swallowing him whole.

The sounds of chewing, which made one's scalp tingle, were somewhat terrifying in the silent forest. Just as Muzan was about to revert his arm to its original form, a cold, gleaming sword suddenly slashed towards him.

The blade struck Muzan's monstrous arm, but it sounded like it hit something hard.

The attacker retracted their sword and retreated. Muzan's arm returned to normal, and he turned to face the person who had attacked him—the Master.

He wore an apologetic smile: "I didn't really want you to see this."

The Master's expression was grave, filled with indignation: "My swordsmanship isn't meant for demons to learn!"

Saying this, he swung his sword. Even though he knew this demon was powerful, even though he knew he might be eaten by the demon.

Muzan took a step back, then leaped onto a high branch, looking down at the Master:

"Don't worry, I won't go back on my promise to you."

The Master, an ordinary human, was naturally powerless to pursue Muzan and could only roar on the ground:

"You told me back then that you were just protecting yourself!!!"

Muzan curled his lips: "Someone will be able to kill me in a hundred years, but you probably won't live to see it."

"Oh, right, tonight was supposed to be a duel between Muzan and Izumi, and they were both killed by demons. Don't even think about committing seppuku, or else..."

Before he could finish speaking, Muzan's figure vanished into the night sky.

The Master stared at the empty night sky, seemingly having made a decision...

After Muzan left under the cover of night, he found another dojo.

However, this time, after Muzan became a disciple, he maintained a cold expression throughout. Relying on the faint pressure of a Demon King, he successfully became a social recluse.

He learned and then left, extremely smoothly.

Time flew by. After visiting countless dojos, Muzan had already learned swordsmanship, boxing, combat skills, archery, hidden weapons...

Another night, Muzan watched as the last senior disciple left the dojo. He stayed behind to help the Master tidy up the training grounds and continued practicing karate, watching the Master go to rest with a look of satisfaction.

By the window, the Master's daughter, still a small child, rested her head on her hands and watched Muzan practice. The Master ruffled her hair and carried her away.

Muzan also grew to like this kind of life.

Can't find the book title, maybe try searching for the author, perhaps they changed their name!

Just as he was practicing, he suddenly noticed that a demon under his command seemed to be trying to contact him.

Muzan stopped what he was doing and realized he had found Tamayo!

Before the Master could leave, Muzan hurried after him: "Master, I might need to leave the dojo."

The Master, holding his daughter with one arm, looked back at Muzan, his eyes seeming to ask what was wrong.

"I have some matters to attend to."

Seeing that he didn't want to elaborate, the Master smiled: "Go ahead. It's not safe at night, be careful."

"Okay."

Muzan nodded, changed his clothes, and bid farewell to the Master.

After so long, he had finally found a key plot character from Demon Slayer!

What would Tamayo be like in reality?

The night was deep, a full moon hung high in the sky, and a black shadow flashed by.

Muzan's figure flickered, finally landing lightly on the roof of a wooden house. Opposite him was the house where Tamayo, found by his subordinate demon, lived.

At this moment, a faint candlelight flickered within the house. A figure sat by the window, head bowed, busy with something unknown.

Muzan watched the figure, assuming it was Tamayo.

He leaped lightly to the ground. The undisguised sound of his footsteps drew the attention of the person inside. Through the paper window, he could see the figure raise its head.

Listening to the approaching footsteps, Tamayo's already worried face, etched with the knowledge of her impending death, grew more anxious. She gently opened a crack in the door, only to see nothing outside.

Tamayo closed the window in confusion. Had her illness made her hallucinate?

Meanwhile, Muzan had already landed on a more distant rooftop.

It wasn't time yet.

The best opportunity to turn her into a demon would be when Tamayo was close to death.

Otherwise, it would likely require a more forceful approach, which would inevitably be counterproductive.

Tamayo was already on her last legs, struggling even to open a window. Staying up all night was her desperate attempt to find a way to survive.

Muzan confirmed the situation and decided to stay there.

He wanted to understand what this Blood Demon Art was.

And since it was born from his blood, could he use the Blood Demon Arts of his subordinate demons?

Muzan's control over demons extended from their minds to their bodies. He carefully observed how his subordinate demons used their Blood Demon Arts and, mimicking them, raised his palm towards a teapot.

He clenched his hand.

Crack!

The teapot shattered, and the tea inside spilled across the table, dripping onto the floor.

"Nice!"

A delighted smile spread across Muzan's face. It works!

He didn't care about the principles behind the Blood Demon Art; as long as it was useful, that was enough!

However, Blood Demon Arts had to originate from demons. He could only possess a Blood Demon Art if one of his subordinate demons already had it.

But this was enough for now.

More than ten days later, Muzan overheard conversations from people nearby. Tamayo seemed to be dying.

They seemed to express regret, as Tamayo was a renowned physician who had healed many. Her premature death felt like fate envying talent.

That night, as Muzan approached Tamayo's house, he could sense her incredibly weak presence, as if she could die at any moment.

Muzan walked over and knocked on the door.

A man opened it—Tamayo's husband.

"Hello," Muzan said with a smile, standing outside the door.

Tamayo's husband looked at Muzan curiously. "Hello, can I help you?"