Death Sentence, to Be Carried Out Immediately
With a simple assessment, he already knew that the timeline of this illusion was roughly when he had just learned the Breathing Technique.
Raising an eyebrow, Tsugikuni Yoriichi's face showed no interest, remaining as indifferent as ever.
But the Scribe knew that this meant he was willing to listen.
He looked up at the high-hanging moon, and then began to tell the story that followed.
From his first learning of Breathing Technique to his duels with others during Rengoku Kyojuro's explanations.
From the moment he went out to hunt demons on his own, to the moment he encountered the Demon Slayer Corps.
From obtaining the Tamahagane from Sunlight Mountain, to Swordsmith Village.
The story is long, and the Scribe tells it slowly.
His speech lacked any particular tone or elaborate phrasing.
Yes, it's just the vicissitudes he's experienced over the years.
After an unknown amount of time, the Scribe finished telling all the stories.
Meanwhile, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, also acted as a qualified listener.
He spoke slowly after the Scribe had finished telling his story.
"These years have really been tough on you."
Tsugikuni Yoriichi's words were very bland, so bland that you couldn't hear any emotion in them.
But for some reason, when Scribe heard these words, he felt a slight lump in his throat.
Why do I feel like crying?
How long has it been since I felt this way?
Three hundred years, five hundred years, or did it disappear in the previous life?
The Scribe didn't know, nor did he want to know.
"Alright, it's time for you to go back to your world."
Even if it's a fake Tsugikuni Yoriichi, he's still Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
As the Child of God, he was incredibly intelligent and had long realized that he was not a living person at all, but merely a product of the memories formed in the mind of the Scribe before him.
Of course, his appearance was also inseparable from the "help" of the Ubume.
It wasn't that her strength was too weak; she could only create illusions but couldn't affect them.
Otherwise, his behavior would likely be affected to some extent.
While it wouldn't have gone so far as to wield a knife against the Scribe, at least the current situation wouldn't have occurred.
"Go back to the original world?"
Slightly startled, a hint of surprise appeared on the Scribe's face.
He himself hadn't thought of a way to break the illusion, but he hadn't expected that "Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
He had already tried to commit suicide before.
However, when the Ubume created this illusion, it seems that she was aware of this, whether intentionally or unintentionally.
Although the pain is normal, the concept of "death" does not exist for an outsider like myself.
It seems we can only choose one of the methods mentioned earlier.
Just as the Scribe was imagining this, Tsugikuni Yoriichi suddenly took a few steps back and drew his Nichirin Blade from his waist.
Just as he was wondering, Tsugikuni Yoriichi had already begun to swing.
"Goodbye."
After those two simple words, comes the starting stance for Sun Breathing.
"First Form * Dance"
"Second Form * Azure Sky"
"Eleventh Form * Halo Dragon Dance"
"Twelfth Form * Flame Dance"
The Twelve Forms are used to form a cyclical ring.
At that moment, the Scribe understood the other party's thoughts.
Since the Scribe doesn't want to do it himself, he will do it himself.
Since he himself was created based on the Scribe's memories, he naturally possesses this ability.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi, intends to use the Thirteenth Form Sun Breathing to destroy himself and this entire illusionary world!
Upon realizing this possibility, a sinister glint appeared on the Scribe's face.
Of all the things she shouldn't have done, the Ubume created an illusion about her master.
And now, he was about to witness his master "commit suicide"!
However, no matter how much dissatisfaction and anger she felt, the Scribe's mind remained clear.
He knew that unwarranted anger was useless.
If he really needs an outlet, then the Ubume from the outside world is the best choice.
Before long, the Thirteenth Form of Sun Breathing was revealed.
A massive amount of energy emanated from Tsugikuni Yoriichi's body, forming one energy ring after another that surged outwards.
The fiery red ring kept crashing into the world, tearing it open with gap after gap.
Soon, the world became dilapidated, as ugly as a delicate porcelain piece riddled with holes.
As the Thirteenth Form was used repeatedly, energy surged forth, and the world became even more devastated.
Eventually, the surrounding scenery turned into a void of black.
In the main world, only the Scribe and Tsugikuni Yoriichi remained.
"That's about it, only one left."
Tsugikuni Yoriichi, and then he looked at the Scribe.
The Scribe could clearly see that the cracks on the other person's face were exactly the same as before.
The Nichirin Blade in his hand had stopped being swung and was slowly being sheathed.
As the blade gradually disappeared into its sheath, the Scribe knew that this was the final moment.
"Bite!"
The blade's jaw struck the top of the scabbard, producing a crisp sound.
In an instant, cracks appeared on Tsugikuni Yoriichi's face, and the dark world was instantly filled with the crimson of flames.
The illusion has been shattered.
Chapter 156 Death Penalty, Immediate Execution
Let's rewind a little, back to the time before the Scribe broke the illusion.
Outside at that moment, the Ubume was observing the Scribe.
She hadn't seen the Scribe for a long time; standing there with his eyes closed, he was like a fine sculpture.
"Could it be that my Blood Demon Art has really trapped him?"
A strange idea popped into her head, Ubume clicked her tongue.
"How about we try getting closer?"
I don't know why I had this idea, and I don't know what made Ubume so inexplicable, but I actually walked towards the Scribe.
As she approached, Ubume realized that the Scribe in front of her was incredibly handsome.
Compared to the previous Demon Slayer, the scent emanating from him was so pleasant that even ghosts couldn't resist it.
She could clearly feel her body yearning for the Scribe's body.
Just as the demons craved the flesh and blood of Sanzang, the evil spirits also longed for the body before them that possessed high-level Rare Blood.
Swallowing hard, another bold idea popped into the Ubume's mind.
"How about taking another bite?"
Just one bite, she really only needs one bite.
She was so hungry; this was the first time she had felt this hunger since the Ubume became a demon.
An overwhelming hunger coursed through her bloodstream, a feeling that nearly drove her mad.
She licked her lips, opened her mouth, and slowly bit down on Scribe's neck.
The sharp teeth reflected a faint light under the dim indoor lamplight, and the gleam at their tips further accentuated the hungry look on the Ubume.
Gradually, the teeth approached the Scribe's skin.
Just as they were about to make contact, the Scribe's body trembled slightly.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
Their eyes met, and in an instant, the Ubume's brain reacted.
How could I have had such a thought before!
The difference in strength between the man before her and herself was beyond mere perception.
Calling it powerful or weak is Ubume.
However, by the time she realized the seriousness of the problem, it was too late.
The Scribe stretched out his arm and grabbed her chin with his large hand.
With a slight exertion of his fingers, a chilling sound of bones cracking came from his chin.
The Ubume's chin had been crushed into a comminuted fracture by the Scribe.
Immediately afterwards, a fierce glint flashed in the Scribe's eyes.
With his forearm muscles bulging, he flung the Ubume away.
It is true that the body of a demon is very hard, but this hardness is only based on ordinary strength.
The Scribe possessed immense strength, enough to easily crush bones—a strength that could be fatal!
Even if she survives thanks to her ghost body, she will still suffer serious injuries.
Sure enough, the moment the Ubume's body hit the wall, it made a loud thud.
Immediately afterwards, her body was like dough being pressed by a press, subjected to immense invisible pressure, and flattened into a pancake.
Bones, blood, meridians, and even brain matter were squeezed out by this enormous force.
On the wall where the impact occurred, an abstract, natural human figure painting appeared.
With a single blow Ubume was reduced to a flatbread, but the Scribe knew this was not a fatal injury.
As expected, after the Ubume was turned into a pancake, there was not much panic on its face.
"Hehehe, let me tell you a secret: this room is actually part of my body."
As soon as she finished speaking, the Ubume's smashed body twisted violently.
It melted into a puddle, just like a pool of meat juice.
Finally, it blended into the wall.
Immediately afterwards, the voice of the Ubume echoed in the previously dark room.
"Let me show you the pain of being digested by a demon!"
In an instant, the walls, the ceiling, and even the furniture in the room underwent changes to varying degrees.