"Oh? Really?" Tetsuhiro chuckled and lifted his chin. "Take a closer look."
Yoriichi followed his gaze, and his pupils abruptly contracted.
The cells that seemed to have dispersed had not truly been destroyed. Instead, they slowly gathered toward the ground as though they had lives of their own.
The faint sounds of squirming were particularly clear in the silent central area. Every speck of powder stubbornly drew closer to the others, coalescing once more.
He instinctively tightened his grip on his Nichirin Blade and was about to slash again, but Tetsuhiro swiftly stopped him.
"We agreed on just two slashes." Tetsuhiro's tone held a hint of amusement. "A bet's a bet. Accept the result."
Yoriichi paused, then finally withdrew his blade, though his cold gaze remained fixed on the gathering cells. "All right. I'll honor our agreement."
Tetsuhiro secretly breathed a sigh of relief as well. Fortunately, Muzan's instinct for survival had long since been carved into his bones.
When he first disintegrated, he had secretly slipped some of his cells underground, avoiding Yoriichi's two devastating slashes.
Now, those deeply buried cells were drawing the airborne powder back together.
Tetsuhiro did not interfere. They had agreed to rely on their own abilities; if Muzan survived this ordeal, he was lucky.
A jumble of footsteps drew closer as everyone hurried over, one after another.
By the time everyone arrived, Yoriichi's body was already barely visible.
He seemed to be waiting to see everyone one last time.
As for Muzan, after five powerful slashes, he finally reformed into a humanoid shape. Only a pair of underpants remained on him, fluttering in the breeze. Hunched over and trembling all over, he had lost every shred of the Demon King's imposing presence.
It was clear that even though he had survived, he was badly