"You, how did you get here?!"
The vanished blue light reappeared, and the mirror and incense burner instantly flew up, heading towards the roof.
With a sudden movement, the Scribe reached out with a speed that was impossible for an ordinary person to react, and grabbed the mirror and incense burner in his palm.
What a joke! He waited for her for three days; how could he let her get away so easily?
He gripped the mirror tightly, focusing his gaze on its reflection.
At that moment, in the mirror, a woman with a face covered in blood was staring straight at him.
The woman's face was very young, and she was very beautiful.
If it weren't for her ferocious face, she would probably be a very popular young woman.
However, the ferocity on her face and the blood at the corner of her mouth completely ruined her demeanor.
Realizing that the Scribe was looking in their direction, the woman screamed and then disappeared into the mirror.
Seeing the woman escape from the mirror, Scribe showed no panic whatsoever.
With a forceful squeeze of his left hand, he crushed the incense burner into pieces.
"Ahhh, my incense burner!"
As if sensing the incense burner had been damaged, the woman's scream came again from the mirror.
"What? You seem to care a lot about this."
The Scribe released his grip and gently shook the incense burner, scattering the fragments onto the ground.
Then, he chuckled at himself in the mirror.
"Don't rush, I'll be right in."
As she spoke, she suddenly thrust her free hand into the mirror.
The moment I touched the mirror, there was no shattering of the mirror or bloody cuts on my hand, as most people would imagine.
On the contrary, the mirror surface, like the surface of a lake, reflects faint ripples.
Layer upon layer, until it bounces back to the edge of the mirror.
Not only that, the arm that the Scribe had lost also disappeared into the mirror.
But his face showed no sign of pain, only a triumphant smile.
I've got you.
As the Scribe was about to enter, the woman in the mirror screamed again.
"You, you don't come any closer!"
"I'm going in!"
With a loud shout, the Scribe then squeezed the rest of his body parts into the mirror.
Once the Scribe's entire body was inside, an unprecedented blue light burst forth from the mirror.
Cracks appeared on it, and soon they covered the entire mirror.
Immediately afterwards, a clicking sound began to ring out.
Finally, the mirror shattered.
At the same moment the mirror shattered, the woman's scream echoed throughout the room.
Aaaaaah!
Not only that, but the blue light shone brightly, almost filling the entire room.
On the wall where the blue light was most intense, a faint ripple also appeared.
Eventually, the ripples disappeared, as did the original wall.
An empty room that had never been discovered before appeared here.
The Scribe who had previously disappeared into the mirror also reappeared in the room.
Appearing with him was the woman who had been yelling in the mirror earlier.
Or, to put it another way, the Ubume.
When her greatest secret was revealed by the Scribe, Ubume's chest heaved with anger and excitement.
His eyes were wide open on his distorted face, and his teeth were clenched so tightly that they made a crunching sound.
"How did you know I was here?"
With her slender fingers pointing at Scribe, Ubume couldn't understand why Scribe had been missing for so long, would suddenly appear in the room.
More importantly, he found it incredibly easy to figure out how to get into the room.
With a cold laugh, the Scribe spoke.
Do you know the Chinese idiom "waiting for a rabbit to bump into a tree stump"?
Slightly taken aback, Ubume clearly had never heard of this idiom.
Scribe waved his hand, a hint of helplessness on his face.
He could not hope that a demon could understand his schemes.
In fact, he hadn't left before; he had just found a place nearby to hide.
The reason is simple: since it's not inside the house, it means the medium is hidden in the yard.
That's why the Scribe hid outside to observe.
He chose a good spot, which allowed him to hide himself while still being able to observe the courtyard.
After the strange occurrence in the courtyard, Scribe took advantage of the Ubume's inattention and sneaked into the house immediately.
That's why what just happened occurred.
Chapter 153 Reunion with Tsugikuni Yoriichi
Suddenly everything went black, and Scribe felt that strange smell rushing into his nose.
He knew very well that was the opponent's attack method.
Then, everything went black before his eyes, and the fragrance disappeared.
Just as he was about to react, the light returned to his eyes.
It was no longer the dark, deathly silent room; in its place was a vast, empty plain.
On the flat ground, there were also some wooden stakes or sandbags.
For some reason, when Scribe saw this flat land, a strange sense of familiarity welled up in his heart.
It felt as if I had been here before.
"Is this the Blood Demon Art of the Ubume?"
With a furrowed brow, the Scribe realized that he had been struck by the opponent's Blood Demon Art.
Judging from this, it is indeed different from most demons' offensive Blood Demon Art; it seems to be an ability similar to illusion and illusion.
In fact, the Ubume's ability exploited a loophole in the Scribe's abilities.
Long, long ago, the Scribe acquired the ability to "resist illusion".
However, this ability is only effective against stimulating illusions; it does not provide complete resistance to abilities that do not cause any harm and are more like a "dream."
In other words, while the Scribe's "resistance to illusion" can be effective, it is only a part of it.
This is why he didn't break the illusion and return to the real world immediately.
Moreover, illusions are not entirely a power controlled by the caster.
It tends to stimulate the cerebral cortex of others to a certain extent, thereby creating various "illusions" of different degrees on the retina and in the brain nerves.
And illusions are also influenced by the person themselves to some extent.
In short, illusion is a product of the combined influence of the caster and the target.
This situation is most evident when there is a significant disparity in strength between the two sides.
And now, the Ubume is facing such a situation.
Her ability is inherently inclined to stimulate the recipient, thereby shaping the most beautiful and desired things in their mind.
However, because the difference in strength between the two sides was so great, she herself did not know what her Blood Demon Art had formed in the mind of the Scribe.
She glanced at the Scribe, who stood there quietly with his eyes closed, and couldn't help but swallow hard.
What kind of "dreams" would a man like this have?
Meanwhile, in the Scribe's mind.
After a brief examination, he confirmed his suspicions.
I have indeed been here.
To be precise, I stayed here for a very long time.
The fist marks and bloodstains on the wooden stakes, the potholes on the flat ground, and the wet spots on the sandbags.
All of these things tell the Scribe that this is the place where he once trained.
Just as he frowned slightly, pondering what exactly the place was, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him.
He suddenly turned around and leaped out.
The Scribe's face was cold and indifferent, as if he wanted to tear the person behind him to pieces.
However, the next second, the Scribe had jumped out froze in place.
She extended a finger slightly, pointing tremblingly at the man in front of her.
The Scribe bit her lower lip so hard that it drew blood.
His face was filled with hesitation and struggle, as if he were facing some terrifying enemy.
If Kibutsuji Muzan were to see such Scribe, he would probably stare wide-eyed.
It should be noted that the Scribe had never shown such an expression when facing himself, Kokushibo, or Mizuru.
But what exactly did Scribe see that caused such a strong emotional reaction?
Upon realizing that the Scribe had noticed his presence, a slight smile appeared on the man's calm face.
"Scribe, you've grown up."
Her long, black hair with a hint of red was combed back into a high ponytail.
She wore a pair of earrings, which looked handmade.
There were also fiery red Demon Slayer Mark on his neck and forehead, which would occasionally change color slightly with the man's breathing.
He was the Scribe's mentor, a figure who brought about a historic change to the Demon Slayer Corps, and the creator and first user of the Sun Breathing.
He was a legendary figure who witnessed death and buried his Scribe hundreds of years ago.
He is the second son of the nation, Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
Upon seeing his master again, the Scribe's mind went blank for a brief moment.
But after a short while, he realized what was happening and extended his right hand.
Under Tsugikuni Yoriichi's questioning gaze, Scribe punched himself hard on the right cheek.
Intense pain struck, and everything felt so real.
However, upon experiencing the pain, a ferocious expression instantly appeared on Scribe's previously bewildered face.
He opened his mouth and roared at the sky.
"Gu, Huo, Niao!"
Even though the pain was real, and even though the man in front of her seemed so real in both appearance and feeling, Scribe knew in her heart that it was all an illusion.
But it was precisely because it was an illusion that the Scribe became even more enraged.
He couldn't allow his memories to be used by ghosts as a means of attacking him.