Demon Slayer: Starting with the Great Swordmaster System, My Master Is Tsugikuni

I believed Master Yoriichi was not that kind of person.

I believed in Mister Yoriichi too. It was just that within the Demon Slayer Corps, more and more voices no longer believed in him.

There was some apology in Wangzai's voice, as though he was frustrated with himself for failing to straighten out their thinking.

To protect Mister Yoriichi, I had him go to a bamboo grove to clear his head.

A bamboo grove!

The moment he heard those words, Mister Scribe's expression changed sharply.

Others might not know what was going to happen, but he knew all too well.

After hurriedly asking for the location of the bamboo grove, Mister Scribe disregarded his not-yet-healed body and rushed out the door.

Mister Scribe, your injuries—

Unable to stop him in time, Wangzai could only watch helplessly as he left.

After rushing out of the room, Mister Scribe quickly noticed that the swordsmen around him were looking at him differently.

Their gazes were cold and gloomy, with faint anger and panic hidden beneath them.

Instinctively keeping their distance from Mister Scribe, they seemed unwilling to have too much contact with him.

The official Corps members even placed their hands on their sword hilts the moment they saw him.

It seemed they had all been frightened by the news of Tsugikuni Iwashiro becoming a demon.

Mister Scribe snorted inwardly at those people. Unwilling to waste any time, he rushed straight out of the headquarters.

After several days of travel, he finally neared his destination.

Yoriichi and Muzan, the Thirteenth Form of Sun Breathing

In a small town beside the bamboo grove, Mister Scribe rested for a while.

During the past few days on the road, his injuries had almost completely healed.

After night fell, he asked the townspeople about Yoriichi's whereabouts.

"You mean that young man in samurai clothes, with those strange markings on his face? Just follow this road, and you'll find him."

From an old man, Mister Scribe learned that Yoriichi had already entered the depths of the bamboo grove.

Following the markers, he rushed into the grove as well.

Before long, a figure appeared ahead of him.

It was Tsugikuni Yoriichi, whom he had not seen for many days!

A hint of surprise crossed Yoriichi's face. He had not expected Mister Scribe to appear here.

"What happened to your injuries?"

Pointing at the bandages wrapped around Mister Scribe's body, he could not understand why his disciple had been injured.

He had merely gone to look for Elder Brother. How had things turned out like this?

Just as Mister Scribe was about to speak, his expression suddenly changed.

At the same time, Yoriichi seemed to sense something as well, and his brow furrowed slightly.

Master and disciple turned their heads toward the other side of the path.

Two figures were slowly making their way toward them.

One was a man with a deathly pale face, short black hair, and a cold smirk at the corner of his mouth.

The other was a beautiful woman with a slender figure, exquisite makeup, and a face full of sorrow.

The Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan, and Lady Tamayo.

The moment Yoriichi saw Muzan, his expression abruptly changed.

For the first time in his life, his face was filled with icy coldness.

Because at that instant, a thought suddenly surged from the depths of his heart.

He had been born into this world to defeat this man.

His Nichirin Blade slid free, its tip aimed at Muzan.

Facing Yoriichi with his sword drawn, Muzan still wore an indifferent expression.

Then, he suddenly noticed Mister Scribe beside him.

"Oh? You're not dead?"

"Yeah, I'm alive and well. Disappointed?"

Facing Muzan, Mister Scribe shot back without hesitation.

"You know each other?"

Yoriichi glanced at Mister Scribe, seeming to ask him.

His disciple actually knew that man across from them—the one he had to defeat.

Fortunately, judging from their tone, the two did not seem to be close.

Shaking his head, Scribe told Yoriichi about Muzan and Tsugikuni Iwashiro.

The moment he finished listening, anger appeared in Yoriichi's eyes for the first time.

The one standing before him was actually the root of it all—the Progenitor of Demons.

Thinking of this, Yoriichi understood why he had been born into this world with such talent.

It was surely to slay Muzan!

After observing Muzan closely, Yoriichi noticed something strange about him.

His body overflowed with violent vitality, like lava about to erupt from a volcano, yearning to devour everything around it.

"I don't know how you learned my identity and survived, but that is no longer important."

Under the moonlight, Muzan slowly extended his hand.

"I have already lost interest in swordsmen like you who use Breathing Techniques."

The moment he finished speaking, Muzan's arm vanished.

Then came the sound of something slicing through the air, as though something was rapidly closing in on Scribe and Yoriichi.

Drawing his blade, Scribe stepped in front of Yoriichi.

The next second, a collision rang out, and a blast of air erupted.

As though he had been struck by something, Scribe's body was sent flying backward.

Muzan raised a brow, a trace of confusion appearing on his face.

He had not expected his attack to be blocked by a brat like Scribe.

It turned out that his arm had vanished because he had swung it at extreme speed.

The fact that a mere swing of his arm could surpass the limits of the retina spoke volumes of Muzan's strength!

"I'm fine!"

While flying backward, Scribe shouted at Yoriichi.

That strike had already made him realize that he was still incapable of defeating Muzan.

In that case, he would leave it to Yoriichi.

Nodding, Yoriichi focused all his attention on Muzan.

Gripping his Nichirin Blade, he charged forward.

With a cold sneer on his face, Muzan swung his arm again.

His arm transformed into a long, slender strip of flesh, with a sharp bone blade at its end.

Both its range and speed were the most formidable Yoriichi had ever seen in his life.

As he dodged, countless bamboo stalks were severed, the sounds continuing far into the distance.

In Yoriichi's perception, this attack was completely different from the earlier probing strike.

Even a graze would be fatal!

It was also the first time in his life that he had felt a chill run down his spine.

On the other side, Scribe stood before Tamayo as well.

"Miss Tamayo, I know about you."

Looking at the Demon Slayer before her, who was so young, a trace of confusion flashed through Tamayo's eyes.

She was very curious why he did not intend to kill her, a demon.

And was what he had said true?

If it was true, how had he learned it?

More than that, the longer Tamayo studied Scribe's face, the more familiar it seemed to her.

Deep within her memories, it felt as if she had seen that face before.

"You and I should just watch."

Sheathing his blade, Scribe turned to look in Yoriichi and Muzan's direction.

Tamayo quietly walked to Scribe's side and tilted her head slightly.

"May I sit beside you?"

Though somewhat puzzled, Scribe still nodded.

Straightening her clothes, Tamayo crouched down beside him.

The two of them remained silent as they quietly watched Yoriichi and Muzan's duel.

Lowering his head and bending at the waist, Yoriichi dodged Muzan's attack once more.

In his eyes, Muzan's bodily structure was laid completely bare.

He had five brains and seven hearts!

At that moment, Yoriichi finally completed his ultimate sword technique.

Sun Breathing—Thirteenth Form.

The First Form through the Twelfth Form were used in uninterrupted succession, forming a cycle that continued without end.

That was the principle behind the Thirteenth Form.

Flames coiled around the Crimson Blade like a winding giant dragon as it swept across Muzan's body.

Amid several wet sounds of muscle tearing, Muzan's body was effortlessly sliced into several pieces.

His eyes bulged as though they were about to pop out. Muzan seemed to have only just realized that he had been attacked.

His gaze was filled with confusion and terror. For some reason, his body showed no sign of regenerating at all.

Even when he used a severed arm to prop up his head and keep it from falling, there was not the slightest sign of it reattaching.

Having witnessed Yoriichi's sword technique, Scribe's body trembled slightly with excitement.

He had tried using the forms continuously before, but he had never been able to link them together perfectly.

Yet today, after seeing Yoriichi's Thirteenth Form, every doubt in his mind had been resolved.

At that moment, he too comprehended the Thirteenth Form.

Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked the skill: Sun Breathing—Thirteenth Form.

This was the true Sun Breathing.

Even as he marveled inwardly, Scribe knew that this battle was already over.