Special Physique

"I've been waiting for you!"

Tendo Hiruma's lips curled upward, his tone brimming with excitement.

Demon: "???"

Is this guy insane?

As the demon hesitated, a sharp shing rang out—a flash of blade light streaked through the air like lightning, carrying a heart-stopping momentum straight for its neck.

In an instant, blood sprayed. The demon stared in disbelief as Tendo Hiruma retreated.

This brat is strong.

Hiruma set his rice sack aside—he didn't want to waste food, since getting demon blood on it would be disgusting.

He flicked the blood off his kitchen knife, raised it to point at the demon, and said with a grin:

"I mean, you're so weak. I'm just a little kid, you know."

The contemptuous tone, paired with his golden, condescending gaze, made the demon's blood boil.

It was like being mocked by a roasted chicken on the dinner table.

"Brat, you're asking for death!"

The demon gritted its teeth, itching to tear Hiruma apart alive. It decided it would devour this arrogant human child bite by bite.

A cyan-black lightning bolt tore through the silver moonlight as sharp claws split the air, swiping at Hiruma's head.

A crisp clang echoed through the forest path. The kitchen knife snapped in two, and a bloody gash appeared across Hiruma's chest. He had underestimated the demon's strength—at the very least, an ordinary kitchen knife couldn't match it head-on.

"Hahaha!"

"Go on, brat, keep acting tough!"

The demon swelled with pride, pointing at Hiruma and cackling wildly. It gestured down the path and said:

"Brat, This Seat permits you to run ahead for a bit!"

Hearing this, Hiruma turned and bolted. The demon stayed put, not chasing—not out of kindness, but because its Blood Demon Art was poison.

Soon enough, that stinky brat wouldn't be able to move.

The brief exchange had made the demon realize that this human child wasn't arrogant—he really was strong. But in the end, he was still too green.

While Hiruma fled, the demon licked the blood clean from its claws. Slowly, it even devoured its own entire hand.

"Delicious!"

"So delicious!"

"Hahaha!"

"This has to be the tastiest blood in the world!"

The demon hugged its arms, trembling and writhing, its face drunk with ecstasy as it stared at Hiruma's slowing steps.

"D-Damn it!"

"Poison!"

Hiruma cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground.

The demon's face twisted with excitement, its features scrunching together. It charged on all fours like a wild beast, sprinting to Hiruma's side.

It opened its gaping maw, baring razor-sharp fangs, and lunged for Hiruma's neck. A strange, guttural hum escaped its throat, its eyes practically morphing into Hiruma's shape.

Just as the fangs were about to touch him, a flash of blade light—too fast for the demon to react—swept through. In an instant, its world turned upside down.

By the time the demon came to its senses, its head had been severed from its body.

Hiruma gripped the broken kitchen knife, the wound on his chest fully healed, only his torn clothes proving he had been hurt.

He kicked the demon's body away and pinned its head to the ground with the blade.

"You monsters really have tenacious life force. Even with your head cut off, you're still alive. Truly fascinating."

Hiruma patted the demon's cheek, a gentle smile on his face, his tone filled with curious praise.

But in the demon's eyes, it saw a devil, a madman. If Muzan brought it authority, absolute suppression, then this human before it brought fear—especially that cold, hollow smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The demon finally understood: all the weakness was an act by this human.

"How is that possible?"

"This Seat's Blood Demon Art can poison an ox! How are you fine?!"

"Impossible!"

"Absolutely impossible!"

The demon let out a hysterical roar. It refused to accept this, refused to yield. Each shout jerked its facial muscles against the blade, spilling cyan-black blood across the ground.

"Because I'm a Rare Blood!" Hiruma replied. He wasn't lying—he had been poisoned, even if it was intentional, but it still hurt.

"More importantly, you're just too weak!"

Even while explaining, he didn't forget to throw in a taunt.

This world had special constitutions, usually what demons called Rare Blood.

As a transmigrator, Tendo Hiruma also had a special constitution—a very strong one at that, especially his blood.

His special constitution granted him three abilities.

First, an extremely sharp perception, somewhat like a spider-sense, though still in training.

Second, a powerful recovery ability. While it couldn't compare to a demon's limb regeneration, he was still quite satisfied with it.

Third, his blood possessed unparalleled adaptability—this was Tendo Hiruma's greatest asset.

After two and a half years of research, he discovered that people who swallowed his blood could also speed up wound recovery, albeit with weaker effects, and the blood could even cure illnesses.

Most importantly, his blood had a long shelf life, staying fresh for up to a month.

Of course, he had to thank old man Kuwajima's body for supporting these research results.

Tendo Hiruma deliberately let a demon hit him, just to see if he could get poisoned and boost his poison resistance, since demons' Blood Demon Arts were all over the place.

Unexpectedly, he hit the jackpot—this guy's Blood Demon Art really could poison people.

Hiruma stretched, glanced at his torn clothes, and stared at the head pinned to the ground with a resentful look.

"Clothes ripped like this, the old man's gonna scold me again."

"So, how are you going to compensate me?"

The demon: "???"

Do you even hear what you're saying? How can a mouth at 36 degrees Celsius spit out words this cold?

He looked at his body lying not far away, and the demon completely broke down.

He was already separated from his own corpse, and the instigator of this whole mess wanted compensation—was there no justice left?

"Damn human, if you've got the guts, kill me!"

"Otherwise, I'll definitely eat you!"

Just as the demon was spewing threats, Hiruma put his hand right by the demon's mouth and said with a sincere face:

"Here, eat up!"

The demon looked at Hiruma with confusion, suddenly thinking this guy wasn't so bad after all.

So he opened his mouth to bite, but Hiruma dodged easily and taunted:

"I gave you a chance, but you couldn't take it!"

"You're messing with me?!" the demon roared.

Hiruma patted the demon's little head, looking at him like he was an idiot, and said:

"Congratulations, you got it right!"

"You... you... you..."

The demon was so furious he couldn't form words, his face turning from blue-black to red.

Was this guy a monster?!

"Oh, right, next up is the Q&A round!"

Hiruma ignored the demon's cursing, sat down across from him casually, and asked with a grin:

"So, Mr. Trash Demon, how about you tell me a little something about your boss? Let's chat for a few bucks' worth?"

"You're sick!"

"What the hell 'boss'?!"

the demon cursed, his attitude extremely hostile.

"Why, Muzan Kibutsuji, of course!"

Hiruma's words echoed like a devil's whisper in the demon's mind, and he froze.