A slender man with delicate features, resembling a scholar.
A towering figure with bulging muscles and a savage aura.
These were none other than Wang Liuzhi and Captain Wu Qing, two senior veterans from the Fourth Squad of Zhongzhou.
Now, both of them lay lifeless on the cold alley floor.
Wang Liuzhi's body had been sliced clean in half, his upper and lower halves separated by a pool of blood that soaked into the cracked pavement. Wu Qing, on the other hand, was covered in dense, wolf-like fur, his massive frame drenched in blood that clung to every hair.
A truly unexpected sight.
Li Xuan raised his eyebrows slightly, feeling a wave of regret stir in his chest.
Even seasoned Reincarnators like them, hardened through countless worlds and battles, had fallen here. Their fate had led them to encounter Muzan.
Unlucky.
That was the only word Li Xuan could think of.
Muzan, noticing the silence from the stranger before him, frowned slightly. Still, he did not make a move.
The sword at the man's waist marked him as a Demon Slayer.
And Muzan, having once been nearly slain by Yoriichi Tsugikuni centuries ago, had learned caution through pain. That near-death experience had taught him well. He never struck without knowing his enemy's full capabilities. Patience had become his shield.
He would rather wait and send others to do his bidding than act prematurely.
Suddenly, Muzan's nostrils flared. His brows furrowed further.
A familiar scent was wafting from the burlap sack the man was carrying.
His expression turned grim.
"Gyokko."
The name escaped Muzan's lips like frost hanging in the air.
Immediately, the sack in Li Xuan's hand began to writhe violently. The contents twisted and flailed in desperation, muffled cries echoing out from within.
"Muzan-sama, save me! Please, help me!"
"Be silent."
The cold, merciless command came not from Li Xuan, but from Muzan himself.
At once, the sack fell still. Gyokko, sensing Muzan's fury, dared not utter another word.
To Muzan, Gyokko's only worth lay in the ornamental pots he crafted, which fetched a decent price. Beyond that, he was trash.
"What are you here for?" Muzan asked again, his voice low and deliberate.
Li Xuan still did not respond. His gaze was steady, his thoughts unreadable.
Then, a suffocating wave of pressure erupted from Muzan's body. It surged through the alley like ink spilling across parchment, thick and choking.
The crushing force bore down upon Li Xuan.
For a brief moment, he felt like a lone boat drifting across a vast ocean during a raging storm. The air pressed against his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
The difference in power was staggering.
Still, even under that immense pressure, Li Xuan's mind remained sharp. He was fully focused, using this moment to gauge the gap between his strength and Muzan's.
[Demonification]
With that, Li Xuan activated the transformation without hesitation.
His hair lengthened like ink dripping from the brush of night. His irises turned deep and dark, as if they were bottomless wells. Light itself seemed to vanish into them.
Crimson markings, twisted and ritualistic, crept across his cheeks. They resembled sacrificial paintings, chaotic and ancient.
From beneath the skin of his neck, raw flesh split open, revealing a glowing, malevolent eye. It stared with hunger, curiosity, and madness, as if seeking to consume everything it saw.
A dreadful aura surged from Li Xuan's body. It spread like an ancient curse, nullifying Muzan's oppressive pressure in a slow, grinding wave of resistance.
"A demon?"
Muzan's tone was no longer cold, but startled.
It was a demon's aura, yes—but one completely unbound by his control.
There was not a single trace of Muzan's blood in this man's body.
Even Tamayo and Yushiro, despite being altered, still bore faint remnants of Muzan's essence. No matter how distant, all demons owed their origin to him.
But this man… he was outside Muzan's understanding entirely.
How was that possible?
Muzan's expression grew colder. A chill radiated from his pale face like frost.
So many strange things had happened today. First, that demon hunter wearing Yoriichi's earrings. Then, the three lunatics who had dared attack him. One of them had even transformed into a beast-like creature. Another had somehow escaped using an unknown technique.
And now, a being who could transform into a demon without any link to Muzan.
This was absurd.
Muzan clenched his fists as a shiver of excitement ran down his spine.
"You can switch between human and demon at will?"
His voice trembled, laced with an emotion rarely seen on Muzan's face—hope.
It was common knowledge among demons that their greatest enemy was the sun. But if someone could shift between human and demon forms, that might mean they were no longer vulnerable to sunlight. Such a gift would allow them to walk under the bright sky, unburned.
Muzan, who fancied himself a perfect lifeform, had always despised the fact that he was shackled to darkness. It was why he had spent centuries searching for the Blue Spider Lily.
Now, standing before him was someone who might hold the answer.
"How did you do it? How?"
His voice rose, frantic and urgent.
"I'm not telling you."
The answer came in a hoarse, eerie tone. Li Xuan's voice no longer sounded quite human.
"Then I'll devour you! If I consume you, I might become like you!"
Blood vessels burst to the surface of Muzan's skin. His tailored suit split at the seams. From within his flesh, grotesque whip-like appendages burst forth.
With terrifying speed, they lashed out toward Li Xuan.
In the narrow confines of the alley, the attack covered every direction. There was no room to dodge.
Li Xuan had no intention of dodging.
"Mist Breathing, Second Form…"
This was a technique he had developed on the road to Kyoto, after defeating Gyokko. A new form born of experimentation and need.
He activated his breathing technique, his lungs expanding with ethereal precision. The Nichirin blade in his hand began to shimmer, thick fog gathering along the edge.
He slashed once.
Then again.
Each swing summoned heavier mist. Each movement compressed the vapor into denser layers upon his blade.
As the first of Muzan's whips reached him, Li Xuan struck.
"Thick Mist Inferno!"
The condensed fog exploded outward in a violent wave.
The resulting blast scattered the whip-like appendages, hurling them backward. They recoiled violently, writhing in pain.
"Mist?" Muzan muttered, confused.
But before he could fully analyze it, the fog covered the entire alley in a blinding curtain.
"No damage?"
Muzan noticed something strange.
The mist had no burning effect. No corrosion. It simply floated.
Yet, something felt wrong.
Suddenly, the mist ignited.
It began to burn.
At first, it sizzled faintly. Then, the temperature surged.
In an instant, all of the mist transformed into a seething black flame that devoured everything in sight.
The black fire swallowed walls, ground, and even air. It was consuming reality itself.
When it finally receded, everything within the alley had been reduced to scorched charcoal. The stench of burnt flesh clung to every corner.
Muzan had been turned into a charred statue.
Cracks split open across his body.
Chunks of his burned skin fell away, revealing the pale flesh underneath. His ghastly face was untouched by blood, yet darker than death.
He now understood. This man was not so simple.
Li Xuan was not someone he could destroy with ease.
It was time to retreat.
Li Xuan had already come to the same conclusion.
The moment his blade had clashed with Muzan's whips, he knew—despite his demonification, he was still no match.
And so, he planned to vanish.