Outside the cave where the demons were hiding, Tendo was jotting notes in his notebook, his Nichirin Blade pinning a demon against the cliff wall.
The demon's skin had turned deep purple, its body covered in bulging veins like twisted earthworms. Fear dominated its eyes.
White foam spilled from its mouth, and blood trickled from all seven orifices, staining its face and body, making it look even more grotesque.
"Kill… me… please…!"
The demon forced out the words with difficulty, its desire to die at its peak—after all, the Wisteria Poison was pure torment.
Tendo glanced up briefly before continuing to record data. He had to complete Shinobu's task properly.
**[Test Subject Demon 001.
Number of humans eaten: 3!
Duration of Wisteria Poison effects: 5 minutes.
Dosage: One-fifth of a bottle!
Method of poisoning: Oral (The demon was very enthusiastic. After my friendly persuasion, it wanted to atone for its sins—but I don't recommend Shinobu using this method, okay?)
Evaluation: First-generation Wisteria Poison lacks sufficient toxicity, takes too long to take effect, and dosage needs further concentration. Keep it up, Shinobu!]**Putting away his notebook, Tendo drew his Nichirin Blade with a grin and said, "Since you've been so cooperative, I'll make it quick. Don't become a demon in your next life!"
A flash of steel later, the demon turned to ashes.
He raised his gaze toward the cave ahead, sensing several nauseating presences within.
"More test subjects, how wonderful!"
"Thank you for your contributions to demon-slaying!"
With a cheerful laugh, Tendo stepped into the cavern. At that very moment, the one-horned demon happened to be talking about him—these past few days, the demons had been exchanging intel among themselves.
For the demons trapped on Mount Fujikasane, Tendo and his four companions were like five wolves let loose among sheep, inadvertently forcing the remaining demons to band together.
"Listen up, out of those five human brats, the red-haired one is the most terrifying! He's a straight-up devil—always smiling while he cuts you down!"
"Like this?"
A voice suddenly cut into their conversation before the demons could even react.
The one-horned demon nodded. "Exactly! That devil's smile!"
The next instant, crimson-gold lightning illuminated the entire cave, banishing the darkness in a flash.
The one-horned demon's head flew from its shoulders, its face frozen in shock and confusion as it rolled across the ground.
Tendo turned to the remaining five demons, his gaze like a predator sizing up prey.
"He's alone! Who cares about some 'Smiling Devil'—kill him!"
"Kill him!"
"This guy's way too arrogant!"
Unaware of what true despair felt like, the five demons tried to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the last remnants of daylight faded, plunging the land into darkness. A final sliver of light barely pierced the clouds, casting a faint glow at the cave's entrance.
Bathed in that dim illumination, Tendo emerged from the cave, drenched in blood—evidence of his harmonious exchange with the demons.
Stepping outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air, feeling invigorated.
"Finally over..." Stretching as he gazed at the vanishing sun, Tendo murmured, "Used up all the wisteria poison, so the testing's done. Time to go home and get praised by Shinobu—hehehe!"
With the last rays of sunlight gone, Mount Fujikasane returned to darkness.
The third day of the Final Selection had ended. Now, only one demon remained bold enough to hunt swordsmen in the open—the Hand Demon.
Unfortunately, Murata ran straight into it.
"AAAAHHH!"
"What the hell is this?! I thought demons in the Final Selection only ate two or three people!"
"This thing must've devoured dozens!"
Sprinting for his life, Murata didn't dare look back. The past few days had been safe—he'd even heard rumors about those guys hunting demons and thought he'd catch a break.
Who knew he'd run into this monstrosity?
In the blink of an eye, six arms as thick as basins blocked his escape. With no other choice, Murata steeled himself for a desperate strike.
"Water Breathing: Fourth Form—Striking Tide!"
A surge of blade wind crashed against the six murky-green arms, spraying blood everywhere—yet within moments, the limbs regenerated completely.
The Hand Demon then swatted Murata aside like a fly. It wasn't killing him outright—it wanted information about Sakonji Urokodaki's disciples.It grabbed Murata and began to squeeze. Murata screamed in pain, feeling as though his bones were about to snap.
"Brat, have you seen anyone wearing a fox mask?"
As it questioned him, the Hand Demon spread its two thick arms, a line strung between them, from which hung eleven tattered and bloodstained fox masks.
Murata recognized them almost instantly—those Disaster Averting Fox Masks were far too distinctive. Just a day ago, the person who had saved him had been wearing one exactly like them.
Was this monster looking for Sabito and Giyu?
No, absolutely not. He couldn't let it find them. He couldn't betray them—they were geniuses who could bring glory to the Water Breathing style!
Murata steeled himself and, through gritted teeth, shouted, "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I've never seen them!"
"Then die!" The Hand Demon's voice was icy as it increased the pressure. The sound of cracking bones echoed in the air.
"Aaaaaah!"
At the last possible moment, a brilliant blue slash descended from above, severing the arm that held Murata.
In his dazed state, he caught sight of a boy with short, flesh-colored hair.
As Murata fell from midair, Giyu caught him.
The moment the fox mask came into view, the Hand Demon's eyes widened, its fury erupting like a volcano, burning away its reason.
Its body trembled uncontrollably, its massive form swaying as if battered by a gale. Its teeth ground together with sharp, grating sounds, as though it wanted to crush Sabito between them.
Each clench of its jaw carried a wave of seething rage, thickening the air with suffocating pressure.
At this moment, its heart held nothing but endless hatred and bloodlust—it wanted to tear Sakonji's disciple to pieces.
"Sakonji, Sakonji, you're about to lose another disciple!"
"Hahahahaha!"
The Hand Demon kept screaming Sakonji's name, its voice dripping with madness.
Sabito froze, staring in disbelief at the grotesque demon before him.
It was calling out Sakonji's name?
Did it know his master?
"Hey!"
"Do you know Sakonji Urokodaki?"
"Know him? Of course I do! You're his disciple, aren't you?"
"I've eaten eleven brats wearing fox masks!"
As it spoke, the Hand Demon proudly displayed its trophies—a string of fox masks, eleven in total.
The moment Sabito saw them, everything became clear.
Those were the masks of his senior brothers and sisters who had never returned.
This thing was a demon—but more than that, it was his sworn enemy.
When enemies meet, their eyes blaze with fury!