"If that's the case, why doesn't Mr. Tsugikuni Yoriichi explain it clearly?"
Upon hearing Shinjuro's words, the Scribe shook his head.
"My master is just like that by nature, he won't bother to explain."
Clenching his fist, Shinjuro realized that the Rengoku Family had been wrongly accusing the swordsmen of the Sun Breathing all these years.
He learned some things about Muzan from the records passed down through generations of his family.
Combining the contents of the book with what the Scribe said, he understood the general idea.
After thinking it through, Shinjuro got off the sickbed and stood in front of the Scribe.
"Mister Scribe, I'm so sorry!"
With a ninety-degree bow, Shinjuro apologized for his previous behavior.
"Wave your hand, "the Scribe said.
"I have no lingering attachment to or concern for the past."
Shinjuro was slightly startled by the Scribe's words.
What a magnanimous heart he has! Yet I treated him so badly before.
Thinking about this, Shinjuro felt that he had truly disgraced the name of the Rengoku Family.
Suddenly, the Scribe spoke.
"By the way, you're all better now, right?"
After a quick check of his body, Shinjuro said.
"Well, it's not a big problem anymore. Your medical skills are truly amazing, Mister Scribe."
"It's good that you've recovered."
The Scribe jumped down from the chair and walked towards the door.
"Let's go, lead the way."
Scratching his head, Shinjuro didn't understand what the Scribe meant.
"Your wife, Rengoku Ruka, isn't she in poor health?"
"I'll take this opportunity to treat her." (Shu La)
A glint suddenly flashed in his eyes, Shinjuro couldn't help but clench his fist.
"Mister Scribe, you really are..."
"What are you dawdling for, you grown man?"
With a wave of his hand, the Scribe signaled to Shinjuro not to dawdle.
"The Rengoku Family will never forget your immense kindness!"
After bowing again, Shinjuro quickly dressed and went to lead the way for the Scribe.
Led by him, the Scribe quickly arrived at the residence of the Rengoku Family.
As he approached, the Scribe could see a huge bonfire burning in the open space from a great distance.
"That's my wife, Ruka."
Pointing to a woman beside the campfire, Shinjuro said.
Following the direction, the Scribe arrived at the Rengoku Ruka, sitting in a chair, staring intently at the campfire.
She hasn't given birth to her second child yet, and although her physical condition is somewhat poor, she can still take care of herself.
What she is doing now is the custom that the Rengoku Family has followed since ancient times.
During her mother's pregnancy, she watched a huge bonfire for seven consecutive days, two hours each time.
As a result, the men of the Rengoku Family will have hair as red as flames after birth.
"Ru..."
Just as Shinjuro was about to say something, he was pulled back by the Scribe.
"Let her continue."
Realizing that the Scribe respected the customs of his Rengoku Family, Shinjuro felt even more ashamed of his previous actions.
Soon, the daily two-hour bonfire viewing ceremony came to an end.
Blinking, Rengoku Ruka touched her stomach again.
"Ruka, I'm back."
As Shinjuro's voice rang out, Rengoku Ruka and spotted the two of them.
"Shinjuro, this is..."
Although it was their first meeting, Rengoku Ruka could still sense the difference between the Scribe next to Shinjuro.
If her husband is like a huge bonfire burning in an open field, then the Scribe is like the sun burning at noon.
There is absolutely no comparison between the two.
"Ruka, this is the Mister Scribe."
After hearing Shinjuro's explanation, Rengoku Ruka couldn't help but cover her mouth.
She never expected that the man in front of her was actually the legendary Sun Breathing swordsman.
Not only that, he also had a showdown with his husband.
After that, the other party revealed a lot of unrecorded history.
Now, the Scribe is even taking the initiative to examine her condition.
With a wave of his hand, the Scribe showed no trace of pride.
"Instead of that, I'd like to check on your body first, Ms. Ruka."
Chapter 122 The Ninja Clan, the Uzui Clan
After a brief examination of Rengoku Ruka's body, the Scribe knew about her condition.
Although it's a bit tricky, it's not an incurable disease.
Of course, this so-called "tricky" situation only applies to him.
If an ordinary doctor were to encounter the Rengoku Ruka, they would probably conclude that it is incurable.
Since it was already very late, the Scribe told Rengoku Ruka to rest after finishing his inspection.
After instructing Shinjuro on some medicines to prepare, he also stayed at the Rengoku Family.
For the next period of time, he stayed at the Rengoku Family.
On one hand, it was to treat Rengoku Ruka's illness.
On the other hand, it's because there's a little guy who doesn't want the Scribe to leave.
"Mister Scribe, do you think this is a good way to grind these medicines?!"
Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a little boy who looked like a miniature version of Shinjuro walked in carrying a medicine jar.
Like his father, he had fiery red hair and a smiling face.
After glancing at it, the Scribe said.
"That's fine, Kyojuro, you can just put it there."
After speaking, the Scribe pointed to the table next to him.
Kyojuro responded and carefully placed the jar there.
Although they hadn't known each other for long, Kyojuro was very interested in the older brother in front of him.
His father and mother respected him greatly, as did the Master.
Some swordsmen even squatted in front of the Rengoku Family's gate, just to catch a glimpse of the Scribe.
Moreover, Kyojuro had even witnessed the Scribe and Shinjuro having a casual contest.
The father, whom she could never defeat, was like a newborn baby in the hands of the Scribe.
With just three simple moves, the wooden sword in the Scribe's hand appeared at Shinjuro's neck.
From then on, Kyojuro developed an endless interest in Scribe.
A man with a mysterious identity, superb medical skills, and powerful swordsmanship will always become an idol in the hearts of young boys.
If Shinjuro hadn't told him not to bother the Scribe too much, Kyojuro would have already considered making him his mentor.
"I put it here."
After calling out, Kyojuro jumped onto a chair next to him and rested his chin on his hand.
Ignoring the little guy behind him, Scribe focused all her attention on the medicine in front of her.
Grind, mix, and filter.
Before long, a prepared medicine appeared.
"Hand the medicine to Kyojuro, "the Scribe said.
"Just like before, we'll divide it into three portions and eat it after the meal."
"Thank you Mister Scribe!"
After receiving the medicine, Kyojuro thanked her and then took it to find Rengoku Ruka.
Scribe smiled slightly as he watched the little guy leave.
Under his treatment, Rengoku Ruka's body has almost recovered, and the disease in her body has been brought under control. All that's left is for her to rest.
It's time for me to leave this place.
Although it is not visible now, over time the Demon Slayer Mark will inevitably affect those around them.
Although it is said that without a certain level of swordsmanship, one will not be affected by the Demon Slayer Mark.
But for those over twenty-five years old with superb swordsmanship, this is a death warrant from the King of Hell.
After preparing the remaining medicine, the Scribe turned and left, returning to his room.
After tidying up briefly, he left.
Before leaving, he left a note.
The note was simple; it just told Rengoku Shinjuro and the others not to come looking for him.
The Scribe knew that after learning about the Demon Slayer Mark, Shinjuro also knew that they were deadly.
After choosing a hat and putting it on, the Scribe looked around at the place where he had lived for some time.
Subsequently, without anyone knowing, he left the Rengoku Family and the Demon Slayer Corps.
Once again embarking on a journey, the Scribe chose to head west.
He didn't stop until he had finished eating the food he had prepared, at the nearest town.
While buying food, he suddenly heard some interesting news.
In recent days, some people have died in the town.
These people have absolutely nothing in common in terms of identity, status, or gender.
The only thing they had in common was that they both had many enemies.
Occasionally, objects resembling darts can be found at the locations where these people died.
It appears they died using the same method.
Some historians suggest that these darts may have originated from ninjas.
Many people expressed their disdain upon seeing this conclusion.