Weakness

"Sizzle."

Like a drop of water in a pan of hot oil, the demon's skin and head began to melt rapidly under the exposure of the sunlight.

The demon, which even ninjutsu could not eradicate, was as fragile as melting snow in the sun, its regenerative abilities easily suppressed.

The demon, which had been arrogant and aggressive just moments ago, let out a shriek filled with terror and agony.

"No! No!"

"I'll talk!"

"It was Master Muzan!"

"It was Master Muzan who created me!!"

Sarutobi Hiruzen narrowed his eyes upon hearing the familiar name.

"So it is as I thought."

Aside from the timeline not matching up, the characteristics of the demon before him—evolving by eating humans, being immortal, and fearing sunlight—all perfectly matched the traits of that world in Sarutobi Hiruzen's memories.

Demon Slayer.

The only reason the demon before him could move during the day was due to the unique terrain of this valley, which barely allowed any sunlight to penetrate.

"It's just that the timeline is a bit too early."

"Four hundred years too early, it seems..."

Sarutobi Hiruzen watched the still-screaming demon, weighing the situation in his mind.

"It seems the current Muzan hasn't been beaten to a pulp by that man who descended from the heavens yet."

"To think even a low-level demon can speak his name so freely..."

"So he hasn't placed a curse on their bloodlines yet..."

Sarutobi Hiruzen didn't think this timing was a bad thing.

On the contrary, in this timeline, Sarutobi Hiruzen could witness the brilliance of that god-like figure, a man comparable to the Sage of Six Paths.

"Tsukiguni Yoriichi."

A flicker of anticipation rose in Sarutobi Hiruzen's heart.

In his view, becoming a demon to pursue immortality was highly unlikely.

Even if the issues of sunlight and the need to eat humans were solved, Sarutobi Hiruzen still looked down on it.

After all, Demon Slayer was only a two-star world, and judging by Kibutsuji Muzan's combat performance, he couldn't even match a Kage from the Hokage world.

Sarutobi Hiruzen had many opportunities; there was no need to bind his own bloodline to a mere two-star world.

By comparison, Sarutobi Hiruzen was more eager to interact with a talent like Tsukiguni Yoriichi.

"After all, he is the first generation who hacked Muzan until he lost all his spirit..."

"The talent to create Breathing Styles from scratch is truly precious."

Thinking this, Sarutobi Hiruzen stepped forward, just enough to block the sunlight that had been falling on the demon's head.

The demon immediately stopped screaming, only panting heavily.

Its super-strong vitality allowed it to begin regenerating again, though due to the lingering effects of the sun, the speed was much slower than usual.

"If I don't become a demon myself..."

"Demons are still quite a superior species..."

Sarutobi Hiruzen admired the demon's vitality, which was even stronger than that of Wolverine, and praised it inwardly.

"Congratulations, you've survived for now."

Sarutobi Hiruzen's expression carried a playful tone and a hint of imperceptible fanaticism.

"However, you will be living the rest of your life lying on an operating table."

After all, as the Professor of Ninjutsu, it was only natural to study something interesting when he encountered it.

The island nation in this world was in a very backward, ancient era.

Both the main roads and the small paths were extremely rugged.

Only the official highways were slightly smoother, making them the preferred routes for merchant caravans and armies.

On one such highway, a massive merchant caravan was currently moving along, led by several tall, sturdy horses, followed by a significant amount of cargo.

It was clear that the scale of the operation was quite large.

"The sky is getting dark..."

"Tell the people behind us to set up camp where we are."

"We are still some distance away from Kyoto..."

Within the caravan, a middle-aged man dressed in fine silk, with a shrewd and resolute expression, gave orders to the person beside him.

Beside him stood the elderly steward and his young daughter.

After the elderly steward acknowledged the order, he instructed the caravan behind them to set up camp and rest in place, while also arranging for rotating watches.

Once the steward had departed, the middle-aged man let out a soft sigh, feeling physically and mentally exhausted from the journey.

As the patriarch of a merchant clan, he would not have had to take the field himself if not for the chaotic times making it increasingly difficult for caravans to travel, combined with a lack of trusted confidants within his own family.

In this era where unjust wars were breaking out everywhere, traveling trade routes was incredibly unsafe.

Not only were there wild beasts in the mountains and forests, but there were also bandits—both real and fake—robbing the main roads.

If they were real bandits, it would be fine; most real bandits were just desperate commoners who had gathered together with nothing but a few broken blades and farm tools, most of them frail and weak.

To a caravan with light armaments, they posed no threat at all.

The most troublesome ones were the fake bandits, who were actually soldier-bandits.

They were mostly composed of wandering samurai and soldiers, and in some cases, even private soldiers from registered clans; they were well-trained, ruthless, and had no regard for the consequences of their highway robbery.

Thinking of this, the middle-aged man suddenly remembered something and spoke to the elegantly dressed young girl beside him with a serious expression.

"Hezi..."

"Go wash up."

"Dress yourself cleanly and go deliver a meal to that Sarutobi-sama..."

The girl named Hezi felt a shiver in her heart, understanding her father's intent.

However, there was no surprise in her heart, for in this era, clinging to the strong was simply the destiny of a woman.

The Sarutobi-sama her father spoke of was a ninja they had encountered on the road.

Though he was somewhat advanced in age, he possessed almost unbelievable skill; with just a few strikes, he had scattered a group of over thirty private soldiers, rescuing the caravan.

It was because of this incident that the middle-aged man had respectfully invited Sarutobi-sama to join them, treating him as the highest-ranking guest of honor within the caravan.

"Yes, Father..."

Hezi bowed slightly, her demeanor elegant, clearly having undergone rigorous training as a Yamato Nadeshiko.

"I just wonder if that Sarutobi-sama is the one from the legends..."

The middle-aged man frowned slightly and hurriedly interrupted Hezi's speculation.

"Watch your tongue!"

"This is not something we should be discussing..."

"If we can attach ourselves to such a powerful figure, that would be good; if not, establishing a bond of goodwill is also a positive outcome."

"We are merely an ordinary merchant clan; we have no need to get involved in those chaotic affairs."

As a clan leader, the middle-aged man possessed wisdom; while clinging to the strong was certainly a good thing, the strong were often synonymous with trouble.

As for the identity of Sarutobi-sama that Hezi had mentioned, the middle-aged man held a skeptical attitude.

Because the Sarutobi-sama before them was somewhat old, he did not resemble the appearance of the famous warriors under the Sanada Clan.

But regardless, his formidable skills were undeniable; the abilities he had displayed alone were enough to rival a hundred warriors.

In any country or great clan of this ancient era, such prowess was enough to earn one the title of a marquis or a general.

"Yes... Father."

Hezi nodded and said no more, though she felt slightly nervous about what was to come.

She wondered if that lord would like a woman such as her.

On the other side, inside an independent tent, an oil lamp burned brightly.

Sarutobi Hiruzen stood tall within, and on the wooden table before him, a ghost with four arms, clawing and thrashing about, was bound tightly.

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