Shogun!

Over the next few days, an extremely bizarre yet lively scene unfolded in Mochizuki Village.

Three enormous iron pots, each over a meter in diameter, had been set up in the clearing at the center of the village. Two whole skinned wild boars stewed in the first; rich pork rib and wild vegetable soup bubbled in the second; and white rice lay heaped like a small mountain in the third.

Rokuya sat cross-legged on a large gray-green boulder in the middle of the clearing, his knife rising and falling-an ordinary kitchen knife, of course, not the three-hundred-jin Shura. At a jaw-dropping speed, he stuffed chunks of piping-hot boar meat into his mouth, crunching even the bones before swallowing them straight down.

"Ten more bowls of rice." Without even looking up, Rokuya held out a wooden bowl larger than a washbasin.

The sturdy peasant women serving him were already staring in disbelief, but none dared delay. They deftly took the wooden bowl, packed the rice down firmly, and handed it back to the savior who, in their eyes, seemed like a ravenous beast reborn.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Rokuya let out a contented belch, leaned against a tree trunk, and closed his eyes to rest.

Just then, an eerily synchronized commotion, like some ancient tribal ritual, woke him.

Rokuya opened his eyes and nearly fell off the boulder in shock at the sight before him.

Led by the gap-toothed village chief, over a hundred villagers had formed a neat square in front of the clearing. With a solemn expression, the chief crossed his hands over his chest, then suddenly threw them high above his head, bent his legs, and jumped straight up!

"One, two, three! Praise the sun!" the chief bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Praise the sun!!!"

Over a hundred villagers shouted in unison, following the chief's rhythm as they raised their hands and jumped in place. After landing, they crouched and jumped again, repeating the motions without stopping.

The whole scene was both comical and filled with an inexplicable fervor and tragic grandeur. The villagers still wore rusty iron collars around their necks. Their vigorous jumping made the collars rub against their skin, drawing traces of blood, yet their faces shone with almost crazed reverence and happiness.

Ding! Daily worship from villagers detected. Gratitude Points +1.

Ding! Daily worship from villagers detected. Gratitude Points +1.

System notifications began flooding Rokuya's mind dozens of times a second. Though each awarded very few Gratitude Points, there were so many people, and the stream never stopped.

The corners of Rokuya's mouth twitched wildly, and he could not help blurting out, "...Who on earth taught you those ridiculous moves?! You're treating me like a shogun, aren't you?"

Panting as he jumped, the chief answered loudly, his face full of pride, "My lord! This is the highest form of respect we all came up with after discussing it through the night! You pulled us out of endless darkness. You are our sun! So whenever we see you, we must show you our most sincere worship! Isn't that right, everyone?!"

"Yes!!! Praise the sun!"

The villagers jumped even harder, kicking up dust more than a meter above the ground.

Rokuya sighed, unable to bear watching. But after glancing at the Gratitude Points steadily climbing like a stopwatch on his system panel, he ultimately chose to compromise.

"Forget it. Whatever makes you happy..."

Being worshipped as the sun was mortifying beyond measure, but for Rokuya, who urgently needed to accumulate Gratitude Points to unlock the next node on the Magic Path Skill Tree, this was practically a natural point-farming spot.

This bizarre routine continued for about five days.

Early on the sixth morning, several jet-black Kasugai Crows bearing the Demon Slayer Corps' distinctive tags circled above Mochizuki Village, letting out piercing cries.

"Caw! Kakushi Corps arriving! Kakushi Corps arriving!"

Guided by the Kasugai Crows, a squad of ten masked Kakushi Corps members in black uniforms arrived at Mochizuki Village, travel-worn and dusty.

The Kakushi Corps was the Demon Slayer Corps' logistical support unit, specializing in handling the aftermath, gathering intelligence, and cleaning up battlefields.

The Kakushi Corps member leading the squad was named Goto, a veteran with extensive experience handling the aftermath. But when he and his team followed the villagers into the enormous natural limestone cavern in the mountain behind the village, the hellish sight before them froze every one of them in place.

"Good heavens..." Goto sucked in a cold breath, his mouth hanging wide open beneath his mask.

The cavern covered an area fully half the size of a soccer field. The air reeked of nauseating blood and the acrid ashes left behind by dead demons. Terrifying sword marks several inches deep and several meters long scarred the surrounding rock walls. Cage bars made of thick logs and cast iron had been torn out by an extraordinarily savage force, leaving splintered wood and twisted iron scattered across the ground.

Even more chilling were the traces of battle left on the ground.

"Captain, come look at this!" A Kakushi Corps member pointed at a huge crater in the center of the cave, his voice trembling.

Goto hurried over and looked down, his pupils abruptly contracting.

It was the corpse of a grotesque demon with only half its body remaining. The demon was astonishingly enormous-even half its body stood taller than a person. It was covered in blue-green scales harder than steel, yet now those proud defenses had been cleaved neatly down the middle as though made of paper.

The cut was as smooth as a mirror, without even the slightest ragged edge. Moreover, the muscles and bones around it had been charred by extreme heat and violent energy.

Goto crouched and gently touched the charred cut with a finger. An extraordinarily fierce killing aura still lingered on it, stinging his fingertip painfully.

"Was... was this really a slash a human swordsman could have made? And shouldn't demons turn straight to ash?" Goto swallowed, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "How much strength, how fast a blade would it take to cut a grotesque demon of this caliber in half with one strike? And the ashes scattered around the scene indicate... at least fifty demons died here! Every single one killed with one strike!"

"Captain, over by that cave opening... we found a swordsman!" another team member suddenly shouted.

Goto immediately led his men toward the opening.

At the cavern's exit, a half-dead man hung from two sharp stalagmites. It was Tanaka, the Kanoto-ranked swordsman who had been missing for several days and was deemed to have deserted in the face of battle.

Tanaka was a horrifying sight. A demon's sharp claws had pierced both his shoulders, his chest had caved in, an unknown number of his ribs were broken, and his right arm dangled at a grotesquely twisted angle. His whole body lay soaked in his own waste and dried blood, giving off waves of foul stench.

"Quick! Get him down and stop the bleeding!" Goto ordered at once.

Several Kakushi Corps members hurriedly worked together to free Tanaka from the stalagmites, fed him emergency medicinal pills, and wrapped him in bandages like a mummy.