Demon Slayer: Great Swordmaster System From the Start, My Master is Tsugikuni Chapter 41

Wiping the tears from his face, the Scribe charged directly towards the tall tower.

Standing at the base of the tower, he leaped several times and landed steadily on its summit.

The night wind blew gently, carrying away Yoriichi's tears and bringing with it the other protagonist of the night.

A rustling sound echoed, as if someone was approaching.

Before long, a figure appeared on the other side of the path.

A Serpent-scaled Samurai stood there, a strange Demon Blade at his waist.

A high ponytail was tied at the back of his head, and six crimson eyes adorned his face.

What was most frightening and terrifying were the characters inscribed in the two eyes in the center.

On his left eye, "Upper Rank" was carved.

On his right eye, a single "One" was carved.

The newcomer was Muzan's partner, the one formerly known as Tsugikuni Iwashiro.

Now Upper Rank One, Kokushibo.

The moment Kokushibo appeared, the Scribe instinctively wanted to draw his blade and attack.

But then, his promise with Yoriichi restrained him.

He had to hold back; only he could be the one to witness this history.

Below the tower, as Kokushibo approached, he also discovered someone standing opposite him.

The crimson moonlight cast down, illuminating the other's features.

His six eyes were filled with shock, unable to believe this unbelievable sight.

His own brother, Tsugikuni Yoriichi, now frail and aged, was standing before him.

He couldn't understand why Yoriichi wasn't dead.

He should have died over sixty years ago due to the Scar!

"This is impossible. Why are you still alive?"

His voice trembling, Kokushibo's tone was filled with doubt.

"Why, only you were able to survive until now?"

Yoriichi didn't answer Kokushibo's question, only a single clear tear slid down his cheek.

"How pitiful, Elder Brother."

The moment he heard this, Kokushibo's eyes widened instantly.

He, was actually being pitied.

Pitied by this person who was once his twin brother, but was now just a frail old man.

But for some reason, he felt no anger at all.

Yoriichi's "Elder Brother," and the first time he had shown emotion in front of him, both conveyed a feeling called sadness.

And he himself was bewildered by the inexplicable turmoil in his heart.

For Kokushibo, only one thing could be confirmed.

He had to kill Yoriichi, kill this Demon Slayer standing in his way.

Looking at Yoriichi's aged and frail body, Kokushibo even doubted if the other could withstand a single strike from him.

From his current perspective, could he consider himself to have surpassed Yoriichi?

The two confronting each other simultaneously placed their hands on their sword hilts.

At this very moment, the somewhat desolate and lonely atmosphere changed.

A fierce, death-defying aura erupted from Yoriichi, like a dying Mighty Lion sizing up its prey.

Kokushibo, standing beside him, was even more shocked, astonished at why Yoriichi still possessed such a powerful presence.

He was the one who had obtained eternal youth, yet he still felt suppressed.

It felt as if two large stones were pressing down on his shoulders, and his chest felt like it had been hit by a large iron hammer.

Yoriichi's stance was flawless, showing no decrease in his former power.

The Scribe on the tower watched the two opposing figures, his heart tightening.

Although he knew the outcome, seeing it firsthand felt completely different.

The story of the Tsugikuni brothers had reached its conclusion.

Without doing anything further, Yoriichi simply said, "I've arrived."

With a flick of his wrist, Kokushibo, relying on his powerful physique, drew his blade first.

Seeing Yoriichi still standing in place, showing no sign of drawing his sword, he felt victory was within his grasp.

Suddenly, a chilling sensation spread through his body, instantly calming the agitated Kokushibo.

He didn't know when it happened, but Yoriichi, who had been standing opposite him, had vanished and reappeared behind him.

Thwack, Ugh.

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Kokushibo was horrified to discover that the greater half of his neck had already been severed.

His greatest weakness, besides the sun, had nearly been exploited by Yoriichi.

He was confused, shocked, and unable to comprehend.

Why was Yoriichi the only exception? Why had Yoriichi, a fellow swordsman with the Scar, lived this long? Why was Yoriichi's swordsmanship, despite his advanced age, unchanged from years ago?

All his emotions ignited in an instant, and a furious, twisted expression appeared on Kokushibo's face.

Even though he knew that one more strike from the opponent would take his head.

This still couldn't stop his hatred for Yoriichi.

"Yoriichi, tell me, why—"

Just as Kokushibo was about to roar something, he suddenly froze.

Standing at the summit of the tall tower, the Scribe leaned against the spire, covering his face with one hand.

Tears streamed down, carried away by the night wind.

He and Kokushibo both knew that Tsugikuni Yoriichi could no longer unleash another strike.

Yoriichi stood there, still holding his Blade, unmoving.

He had exhausted his lifespan and departed from this world.

Seeing the deceased Yoriichi, Kokushibo was enraged.

Even in death, he wouldn't grant him a chance to truly defeat him?

The Demon Blade was drawn, and a streak of light slashed across Yoriichi's corpse.

The aged, frail body was easily cut in two, falling to the ground, blood scattering everywhere.

In mid-air, a severed bamboo flute flew out of a cloth bag.

Thump, Thump.

The bamboo flute fell to the ground, rolled a few times, and then stopped.

Upon seeing the bamboo flute, Kokushibo froze completely.

Lowering his head and taking in everything that had just happened, the Scribe forcibly suppressed the urge within him.

He knew that the story of Tsugikuni Yoriichi had come to its conclusion today.

Chapter 49: You Shall Be Beheaded by My Blade, Tomb of Tsugikuni Yoriichi

Kokushibo, still stunned, quietly gazed at the broken bamboo flute, his expression becoming incredibly complex.

Finally, as if understanding something, he slowly stepped forward.

He picked up the bamboo flute, wiped the dirt from it, as if protecting a treasure.

Placing the two halves of the bamboo flute into his embrace, Kokushibo turned and walked towards Yoriichi's corpse.

Suddenly, he sensed something, and his expression changed drastically.

He whipped his head around, only to see a flame-shaped horizontal slash flying towards him.

Moon Breathing: First Form: Dark Moon: Night Palace.

He used Quick Draw Slash, precisely cutting towards the flame slash.

The two powerful attacks collided, instantly triggering an explosion.

The dust and debris kicked up by the explosion reached several meters high.

Just as Kokushibo wondered why this energy felt so familiar, a voice reached him.

"Get out of my way!"

As the words fell, a heavy kick landed on Kokushibo's waist.

The force of this kick was so great that it shattered his kidney.

"Nnngh."

Clutching his waist, Kokushibo stumbled back a few steps.

While such injuries were not particularly severe for a Demon, what Kokushibo cared about more was the identity of the attacker.

As the scattered smoke and dust slowly dissipated, he saw the assailant clearly.

A young man around twenty years old, wielding a Nichirin Blade.

Although he had already guessed the other party's identity, Kokushibo found it hard to believe.

"You're the Scribe?!"

"Ah, Senior Disciple Brother, or rather, Kokushibo, what if it is me?"

Upon seeing the other party openly admit their identity, Kokushibo became even more unhinged.

Why, after more than sixty years, was the Scribe, who hadn't undergone demonization, able to maintain a youthful body?

Could it be that there was a second method in this world to sustain one's life?

If that were the case, what had all his previous actions been for?

He had abandoned his family, his wife and children, his teammates, and had even gone so far as to kill his own twin brother.

After enduring all of that, you're telling me there's another way?

Thinking of this, Kokushibo could no longer control himself.

"Scribe, tell me, why can you maintain your youthful body?"

"No comment."

Holding his Nichirin Blade and standing before Yoriichi's corpse, the Scribe's face showed no fear.

Although, in these past sixty years, a major event had occurred, consuming the vast majority of his time.

But even with only a limited amount of training time, he had managed to maximize his strength.

Master Swordsmanship, Breathing Technique, Physical Combat (3 million/10 million).

Master Mental Defense (100,000/1 million).

His other Specialized Skills had also been elevated to Master level (100,000/1 million).

Coupled with his low-grade Rare Blood, Temporary Scar, and the Clear World that occasionally activated.

If a real fight were to break out, he was confident he could slay it with his Blade.