Muzan seemed to sense Li Xuan's intentions. Suddenly, two whips lashed out again with impossible speed.
They were so fast that they nearly tore through the air itself.
Even though Li Xuan reacted instantly, he could only raise his Nichirin Blade to block one of the whips. The other slipped past, striking his left side with devastating force.
His arm and the sack containing the jade pot exploded in an instant, bursting into a cloud of blood and flesh that spread through the air with a suffocating metallic stench.
The scene was grotesque. The so-called perfect scales of the jade pot's "ultimate form," harder than diamond, had been useless. Neither Li Xuan's blade nor Muzan's whip had been hindered by that supposed defense.
The speed and strength behind the attack were terrifying.
Li Xuan felt the jarring reverberation pass through the Nichirin Blade and into his arm. Deep in his mind, he could not help but marvel at Muzan's overwhelming power.
If only he could sign in on him, he thought briefly, almost amused at his own greed.
But then he realized something strange. His severed arm had not regenerated. By rights, as a demon with immense strength, his recovery should have been near instant. A single second should have been enough to grow back an arm.
Yet nothing happened.
Concentrating, Li Xuan sensed an alien force inside his body, pushing against his own cells and suppressing their natural regeneration. That foreign energy was slowly being eroded, but it resisted stubbornly.
The truth was simple. Muzan's whip carried his blood. Whenever the whip struck, his blood seeped into the victim, guided by his will. The blood did not transform the target into a demon. Instead, it unleashed cells that destroyed everything they touched. Against a human, even one strike was enough to kill outright.
But Li Xuan was no ordinary being. He was a demon, yet not one created by Muzan. His cells were born of a different origin, incompatible with Muzan's own. Like fire meeting water, the two forces clashed violently.
The result was a stalemate. Li Xuan's regeneration was suppressed, but Muzan's blood could not consume him either.
"Lo…rd… Mu…zan…"
A broken and rasping voice drifted up from the ground.
It was Gyokko.
Somehow, he had survived. His body was mostly gone, leaving only a small sliver of head above his nose and eye sockets. By sheer irony, his mouth had been positioned on his face in such a way that he could still speak.
Li Xuan looked down and let out a small laugh. "Still not dead, I see."
Another sharp whistle split the air. More whips shot forward, faster and denser than before. They crashed down like a storm of serpents, each one filled with lethal power.
Yet Li Xuan remained calm. He raised his blade halfway, and a thick fog began to seep from its edge.
"Breath of Mist."
He exhaled, channeling the technique to its fullest extent. The fog billowed outward, filling the space like water surging across a still pond. In moments, everything was swallowed by the white shroud.
The whips tore into the fog, striking wildly. Instead of dispersing it, they lost their sense of direction, colliding into each other and thrashing without aim.
"The direction is wrong."
Muzan's gaze sharpened. He immediately understood. The fog interfered with his perception, distorting his control.
He froze, standing motionless as he waited.
Slowly, the fog began to thin. As it faded, the place where Li Xuan had stood was empty.
"Foolish."
Muzan spoke the word coldly.
If you chose to take Gyokko alive, then you made your mistake. Perhaps you do not know, but I can track any demon at will. You cannot escape me. Next time, I will not allow you to flee. I will consume you, and in doing so, I will bathe in sunlight once more. I will become the perfect being.
A feverish gleam spread across Muzan's face.
He did not give chase.
Deep down, he knew it was pointless. Li Xuan was strong, and as the first demon in existence, Muzan understood better than anyone how difficult demons were to kill. That was why he had always sought to keep every demon under his control, clutching life and death in his hands.
For now, he would retreat, gather his strength, and plan. Next time, he swore, Li Xuan would not escape.
Meanwhile, atop the roof of a shop, Li Xuan slid his Nichirin Blade back into its sheath. His other arm had already regenerated, and he casually lifted Gyokko's head, which had reformed fully. His black eyes glimmered with eerie light.
Muzan will assume he can track you through Gyokko, Li Xuan thought. He will prepare before approaching again. That is fine. All I need is time. When he comes to me of his own will, it will be all the easier to end him.
Muzan could never guess the truth. Li Xuan already knew all of his secrets. He understood the binding force Muzan held over Gyokko. And above all, he possessed the power of the sign-in system, a weapon beyond Muzan's imagination.
Gyokko turned his eyes away, unable to meet Li Xuan's gaze.
Even Lord Muzan could not kill him, he thought in despair. What future did that leave for me?
Li Xuan let his demonic form fade, his body returning slowly to its human guise. He looked toward the pale light of dawn spreading across the sky and allowed himself a small smile.
[Sign In]
[Congratulations, you have signed in: Gyokko's Pot-Making Technique]
[Gyokko's Pot-Making Technique: The twisted artistry of Gyokko, reflecting his obsession with diseased aesthetics.]
Li Xuan's smile vanished. He tilted his head and met Gyokko's eyes directly.
Gyokko flinched and quickly looked away.
"Pathetic," Li Xuan muttered coldly.
The single word sent a shiver through Gyokko. He sat there in silence, bewildered and afraid, unsure what he had done to earn such contempt. But he no longer had the will to resist. Even insults could not stir anger in him anymore.
…
With the help of Demon Slayer Corps staff, Li Xuan soon boarded the train that would carry him back to headquarters.
He sat quietly, glancing at the clean and neatly folded Corps uniform resting inside a bag beside him. A faint laugh escaped his lips.
Strange. He had not worn it once during this entire mission.
"Do not move."
The sudden words from Li Xuan froze Gyokko's head, which had been placed like a grotesque ornament near the window. The head immediately stiffened, becoming as still as stone.
Since Gyokko was reduced to only a head, Li Xuan had decided to keep him that way. It was far less troublesome than carrying him around in a sack.
Now, he served as a kind of sculpture, quiet and immobile.
To make him look more like a piece of art, Li Xuan had even painted over his surface, decorating him with streaks of bright colors. His face was now blotched with garish greens and reds, a mockery of artistry.
Children and young girls passing by laughed whenever they saw it.
"Sir, your sculpture is so ugly!" they would say with innocent amusement.
Li Xuan only smiled.
Gyokko, however, burned with humiliation inside. Yet he dared not reveal the slightest trace of anger. He embraced his new role as a mute, ridiculous ornament.
The train rattled on, its windows opening to views of mountains and forests rushing by. The scenery was breathtaking, a fleeting glimpse of life's simple beauty. Even Li Xuan felt a rare sense of ease as the wind carried in the scent of soil and the sound of the rails sang beneath the carriage.
This carriage was quiet, almost empty.
The staff had arranged it as a private seat for him, a gesture of respect and gratitude.
At times, Li Xuan closed his eyes and let his body relax against the seat. His thoughts wandered to unknown places, carried away like smoke into the distance.