As a mark that only vaguely resembled a Demon Slayer Mark appeared on Chinatsu's forehead, Kokushibo watched her figure gradually overlap with Yoriichi's. His pupils trembled, and memories and emotions that did not belong to him surfaced in his mind.
What is there to be happy about? What is there to enjoy? What do you think life is?!
A brown-haired young man in samurai attire stood before him. His eyes were terrifyingly fierce, his brown hair swayed in the air, and he let out one low roar after another, like a demon god, at whoever was seeing this through their own eyes.
The scene of his low roars ended, and another took its place. This time, the young man held a red-and-black Bright Red Nichirin Sword and charged straight toward the person whose perspective this was.
Although no further images followed, what came through was more than memories-it was the emotions within them. Even without seeing the rest, Kokushibo understood what had happened next.
An instant kill!
Kokushibo unconsciously raised a hand to cover his cheek as beads of cold sweat rolled down his face.
Was that Yoriichi? Yes, Yoriichi in his youth. But whose memories were these? They definitely weren't mine. Could they be Lord Muzan's...?
Kokushibo instantly understood everything. He and Muzan had briefly touched on this subject during a conversation once.
But this was a shameful chapter in Muzan's past. Just as Kokushibo would never tell anyone in detail how he had met an elderly Yoriichi and nearly been killed in an instant, Muzan had not elaborated either. He had only said he had lost to Yoriichi. Now, it was clear that had been a serious understatement.
Yoriichi... just how strong were you?!
Kokushibo collected himself and looked at Chinatsu ahead of him again. Seeing her figure