Not Everyone Is Like You, Yoriichi!

This demon, on the verge of death, still thought to use Muzan's name to intimidate Tsugikuni Yoriichi. Whether it was merely trying to talk tough or had lost its mind, Yoriichi had no interest in the reason.

On the contrary, if Muzan was willing to come to him, Yoriichi could save himself the trouble of searching for him. Though he did not take the demon's words to heart, he unconsciously quickened his pace.

Partly to treat Miyamoto Ichiro as quickly as possible, and partly because the demon's words did concern him somewhat. Better to believe it existed than dismiss it entirely.

But with that old gentleman at the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters, there should not be any major problems.

Meanwhile, at the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters, the Corps member who had just arrived to deliver a report entered the room where Ubuyashiki Gakusan was resting.

As he looked at the sleeping Ubuyashiki Gakusan in the distance, the Demon Slayer Corps member's body suddenly withered. Traces of black aura seeped from his shriveled form, gradually gathering into a lean, wiry figure.

"So this is the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps? I just need to kill him according to Lord Muzan's orders, right? This mission is pretty easy!"

Just as the infiltrating demon was about to strike, an aged voice sounded beside his ear. "To do such a thing before this old man... I must say, you have quite the nerve."

"Who's there?!" The lean demon turned toward the source of the voice and saw an old man in Taoist robes calmly watching him.

The lean demon could not help but relax. So it was just some old man. Nothing to worry about—he could kill him too.

"Old man, you can only blame your bad luck!" The lean demon charged straight