Demon Slayer: Great Swordmaster System at the Start, My Teacher Tsugikuni

His eyes sharpened, and the gentle aura he exuded changed drastically in an instant.

An aura as scorching as the sun erupted, and those standing beside him felt as if they were facing a blazing furnace, causing them to quickly make way.

Walking through the opening, the Scribe saw the two people standing inside.

Ignoring the thug lying on the ground, weakly writhing, his gaze was entirely focused on the old man.

His hair was white, his face aged, and the skin exposed on his body was like withered branches.

On his left forehead and beside his left eye were two flame-like marks, and he also had a blade tucked into his waist.

The moment he saw the old man, the Scribe's outwardly exposed aura vanished, receding back into his body.

His eyes turned slightly red, and a trace of tears streaked across his face.

"Long time no see, Master."

Chapter 47: Yoriichi's Final Request, the Blood Moon Arrives

The Scribe's words were so soft they were instantly drowned out by the surrounding clamor of the crowd.

But with just that single sentence, Yoriichi, standing in the center of the arena, paused.

Turning his head, he began to search the crowd for the person in his memory.

Unfortunately, there was no one in their sixties or seventies among the people around him.

Just as Yoriichi thought he might have misheard, a flute melody began.

Hoo~ Hoo~ Hoo~

The flute's tune sounded very strange, even a bit off-key.

But to Yoriichi, it was a familiar reminder.

He had played it by his disciple's side more than once.

Following the sound, Yoriichi finally fixed his gaze on a young man.

The moment he saw the young man, he knew he had found the right person.

Even though the other person's appearance was completely different from what he had imagined, he would never mistake the aura emanating from him.

Walking up to the Scribe's side, Yoriichi was initially stunned, then reacted.

"Scribe, you've grown up."

Without speaking, the Scribe simply smiled at Yoriichi.

Memories from sixty years ago unfolded silently between the two, as if they had returned to the days of taking on missions and hunting demons together.

Although there were no earth-shattering cries, for the two of them, it was the best reunion.

"It's too noisy here, let's find somewhere else to talk."

Nodding, Yoriichi followed the Scribe out of the crowd.

As for the thug lying on the ground, he would only be met with scorn and condemnation.

Returning to the previous inn, the Scribe booked a room for himself and Yoriichi.

After buying some small alcoholic drinks and food, the master and disciple sat in the room, facing each other.

"Master, aren't you curious about my appearance?"

Shaking his head, Yoriichi indicated he didn't want to ask further.

Everyone had their own secrets, even himself.

Being able to see his disciple healthy and happy was more than enough for him.

Seeing that Yoriichi didn't want to inquire further, the Scribe didn't offer any more explanations.

He took out the handmade flute from his embrace and slowly pushed it towards Yoriichi.

The flute had changed little from sixty years ago, except that due to the passage of time, the emerald green bamboo flute had turned a dark yellow.

Seeing that the Scribe had preserved his flute so well, Yoriichi's hand suddenly paused.

Slowly, he also took out a few pieces of paper from his embrace.

Under the moonlight, the Scribe noticed the strangeness of the papers.

They were tattered, covered in traces of adhesive.

Judging by their color, each piece of paper seemed to be pieced together.

The images on them were also like this, and it was clear they looked different from before.

The Scribe understood that preserving a few pieces of paper for sixty years would be difficult.

From the pieced-together marks, it was evident that Yoriichi had put immense effort into it.

Yoriichi was about to speak, but the Scribe stopped him.

Placing the flute into his hand, the Scribe put the papers back into his own embrace.

"Our agreement was to return the item to each other's hands. Besides, I didn't exactly protect the flute perfectly either."

Faced with his disciple's understanding, Yoriichi could only sigh in his heart.

After exchanging tokens, he suddenly spoke.

"Have you returned to the Demon Slayer Corps all these years?"

Without a word, the Scribe merely shook his head slightly.

Even though he had encountered many Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen over the years, the Scribe had never revealed his identity to them.

Let alone returning to the Demon Slayer Corps.

In his heart, from the moment he and Yoriichi were cast out, the two parties had no longer had any connection.

"If you can, I hope you will help them when the time is right."

Upon hearing this, an inexplicable chill suddenly washed over the Scribe's heart.

He felt that Yoriichi's next words were the most important.

"After all, you will be the only Sun Breathing swordsman at that time."

"As for me, I only have a few days left to live."

Hearing this, the Scribe's hand, which was pouring wine, suddenly stopped.

From the moment he heard the news of the Blood Moon, he had felt something was amiss.

Now, Yoriichi's words only confirmed his previous suspicions.

Yoriichi was now in his twilight years, his lifespan almost at its end.

"Old age, sickness, and death are natural for all beings."

Patting the Scribe's shoulder, Yoriichi comforted him.

"I came here to hunt one last demon in the final moments of my life."

With his head bowed, the Scribe slowly clenched his fists.

"The reunion of brothers under the blood moon... it's finally coming, isn't it?"

"I will personally slay Elder Brother."

With a calm expression, Yoriichi stated his goal.

The reason he appeared here was because someone had rumored that a six-eyed demon with a sword had appeared nearby.

From the description in the rumors, Yoriichi could easily deduce that it was his demonized elder brother.

The user of Moon Breathing, Kokushibo.

"You are a good disciple, and an excellent demon slayer."

Getting up, Yoriichi stood by the bed and looked up at the moon.

"But just this once, I hope you will not intervene."

The bright moonlight shone upon Yoriichi, and a faint sadness appeared on his aged face.

This was Yoriichi's last request before his death.

The Scribe knew very well that the other party did not wish for him to stand by and do nothing about Kokushibo's atrocities.

He merely wished for him to be the final witness to the reunion of the two brothers, bringing an end to this story that spanned over eighty years.

Standing up, the Scribe looked into Yoriichi's eyes.

"Master, I promise you."

"Thank you."

After sixty years apart, the Scribe saw a smile on Yoriichi's face once again.

Unlike the smile he had when he parted ways with Tankichi in his youth, Yoriichi's current smile held more release and relief.

A sense of desolation emanated from him, evoking a sense of melancholy.

Losing his mother in childhood, his wife in his youth, and then betrayal by his brother and expulsion by his teammates.

If it weren't for the Scribe's appearance, Yoriichi might have believed his life was a failure, that he was someone who couldn't do anything right.

The high-hanging moon continuously tilted, eventually sinking below the horizon.

The rising sun also set with the passage of time, only to be replaced by the moon once more.

In just a few days, the Scribe and Yoriichi had talked a great deal.

Although the story of sixty years was long, it was far from enough for the two of them to discuss.

On one of the evenings, Yoriichi suddenly stood up and looked towards the distant sunset.

"The time has come."

Nodding, the Scribe handed the Nichirin Blade to Yoriichi.

Taking the Nichirin Blade, Yoriichi sheathed it at his waist and then left the inn.

The Scribe also followed silently behind him, without a word.

The sun disappeared, replaced by a moon.

Crimson like blood, as if foreshadowing something.

The Blood Moon had finally arrived.

Chapter 48: The Battle of the Tsugikuni Brothers, The Story Called Yoriichi Concludes

Following a gut feeling, Yoriichi walked towards the outskirts of town.

He heard the townspeople say there was a tall tower in the wasteland outside.

It was originally used for sacrifices, but now it had fallen into disrepair.

The rumors of the six-eyed demon with a sword also started from there.

Before long, Yoriichi and the Scribe reached the vicinity of the tall tower.

"You go there," Yoriichi said to the Scribe, pointing at the tall tower not far away.

"I have a feeling Elder Brother will come."

After speaking, Yoriichi stood still, looking at the distant horizon, waiting quietly.

Before leaving, the Scribe looked at Yoriichi's somewhat lonely figure.

"Master, becoming your disciple is the most correct thing I've ever done in this life."

"Me too, it's truly wonderful that I was able to meet you in this life."