Smoke filled the air.
"Hee… hee-shu?"
Gyokko stared at the two men charging toward him, their expressions twisted with rage, like wrathful gods or demons.
"You dared lay a hand on my future adopted son…"
With every inch Rengoku Kyojuro closed in, the heat scorching Gyokko's body intensified.
"No matter how many pots you have, I will burn you to ashes!"
On the other side, Uzui Tengen's twin blades spun at high speed, the chain linking them clattering like a death knell.
"You utterly unflashy piece of trash—are you ready to receive judgment from the God of Festivals?"
Behind them, Tanjiro and Zenitsu were also red-eyed, looking ready to fight to the death.
Instinctively, Gyokko glanced toward the distance—
toward Inosuke, lying on the ground, barely breathing.
Inosuke had one eye half-open, secretly observing the situation.
When he noticed Gyokko looking over, he immediately rolled his eyes.
Then his body gave a violent twitch, his head lolled to the side, his tongue stuck out—
putting on a perfect I'm done, I'm dead, don't bother me anymore dying-pig expression.
At that moment, Gyokko's thought process underwent yet another earth-shattering twist.
"Oh! I see now!"
A realization dawned on him.
"This brat is telling me his part of the play is over!
Now it's time for my solo performance!"
"Since Inosuke has already sacrificed himself to this extent, I can't drop the ball either!
Was I acting too hard earlier?
My fault! I beat that kid too badly—if I'd pretended to lose earlier and escaped while they weren't paying attention, I could've gotten away!
I got carried away and pissed off these two Hashira…"
Facing the four people charging at him with murderous intent, Gyokko felt no fear—instead, a strange calm settled over him.
"Hmph. Since this is a performance, it must have a proper beginning and end.
Even if it's one against four now, as long as I pretend to lose and find a chance to make a flashy exit, the play will be perfect!"
"Hee-shu, hee-shu! Foolish humans!"
Gyokko poked his body out of the pot and struck a provocative pose.
"Do you think numbers alone mean victory? My art is invincible!
Blood Demon Art: Ten Thousand Gliding Slimefish!"
BOOM!
Thousands upon thousands of slippery grotesque fish burst forth from every pot, surging forward to block their path.
"Useless! Flame Breathing—Ninth Form: Rengoku!"
Rengoku Kyojuro didn't bother reasoning at all. He transformed into a roaring fire dragon, charging straight into the school of fish at the fastest speed of his life.
The extreme heat instantly vaporized all the slime and poison. He forced his way through the biting fish without slowing, heading straight for Gyokko's true body.
"Sound Breathing—Fifth Form: String Performance!"
Uzui Tengen followed closely behind. Explosives combined with his twin blades detonated in a chain reaction, blasting apart every fish that slipped through.
"What?!"
Gyokko was horrified.
"This isn't right! Why are these two Hashira fighting like rabid dogs?!
Aren't they afraid of pain?!"
In a single exchange, his proud fish defense line was utterly torn apart.
Rengoku's blade was already nearing his neck—the scorching pain was so intense he could even smell his own skin burning.
"This is bad! I've messed up!"
Alarm bells rang wildly in Gyokko's mind.
"They're serious! And they're absurdly strong!
Especially that Flame Hashira—why is his pressure even stronger than the intel said?!"
"No! I have to run!
This play can't go on—if it does, I'll die!"
He made a snap decision, preparing to activate his life-saving technique and burrow underground to escape.
"Hee-shu! Today's performance ends here! This artist won't play with you anymore!"
However—
Just as he was about to retreat into his pot—
A black silhouette and a streak of golden lightning suddenly appeared on either side of him.
"Don't even think about escaping! Hinokami Kagura—Flame Train!"
"Thunder Breathing—First Form: Thunderclap and Flash: Godspeed!"
Though Tanjiro and Zenitsu were weaker than the Hashira, the power they erupted with at that instant completely sealed Gyokko's escape routes.
"Damn brats!"
Gyokko's movement stalled.
That brief moment of hesitation decided the line between life and death.
"Too late!"
Uzui Tengen's blade severed the pot Gyokko was using to transfer.
"Go repent in hell!"
Rengoku Kyojuro's blade—carrying heat capable of melting stone—cut cleanly into Gyokko's neck without the slightest resistance.
SCHLICK!!!
Under absolute rage and overwhelming power, Upper Rank Five's head flew cleanly into the air.
The world seemed to spin.
Gyokko's vision tumbled through the sky. He saw the burning ruins, the Hashira filled with killing intent, and finally—far away—Inosuke lying on the ground, the corner of his mouth seemingly curled into a mocking smile.
Even now, Gyokko's mind was still a complete mess.
"How… how did I lose?"
"I didn't even show my full form yet… I haven't even molted…"
His head hit the ground, his body beginning to disintegrate.
"Ah… this feeling of fading away… this regretful, incomplete beauty…
That Inosuke brat… still couldn't pull it off, huh?
It's fine… we all tried our best… didn't we…"
"What an… artistic… child…"
Gyokko's eyes slowly closed, a relieved smile appearing on his face.
"Hee-shu… a perfect… curtain call…"
As the last wisp of ash dispersed, Gyokko vanished from this world completely.
"Umu! It's over!"
Rengoku Kyojuro sheathed his blade, the fury around him gradually subsiding.
He didn't spare a glance for Gyokko's remains. Instead, he immediately turned and rushed toward Inosuke.
"Inoko boy! Hold on!"
Inosuke quickly shut his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and lowered his heartbeat as much as possible.
"Inosuke!"
Everyone crowded around. Looking at Inosuke—covered in blood (though most of it was from what he'd spat up earlier), his breathing weak—Tanjiro cried uncontrollably.
"It was too brutal… it was really too brutal…"
Uzui Tengen surveyed the surrounding ruins, imagining the scene of Inosuke fighting an Upper Rank alone before they arrived. A level of respect he'd never felt before rose in his heart.
"This kid… usually unreliable, but when it counts…
he's a true hero."
"Your… wives…"
Inosuke slowly lifted a silk sash and gently slapped it against Uzui Tengen's face.
"Umu!
This mission was a great success!
And it's all thanks to Inosuke boy!"
Rengoku gently lifted Inosuke from the ground, the more he looked at him, the more satisfied his expression became.
...
At the same time.
In a distant laboratory, Kibutsuji Muzan suddenly crushed the test tube in his hand with a crack.
"Dead?"
A flicker of shock crossed his crimson eyes, instantly replaced by furious rage.
"Gyokko, that useless trash—he's dead?!
Even against two Hashira, with Inosuke and the Daki siblings, plus his Blood Demon Art,
even if he couldn't win, he should've been able to escape!"
"Worthless! All of them are worthless!"
Furious, Muzan connected to the residual cellular memories left behind at Gyokko's death.
He wanted to see exactly where things went wrong.
But with Gyokko dead, the memories were incomplete—only fragments.
The images began to play.
He saw the Daki siblings running toward Doma with a letter of introduction.
Was that… calling for reinforcements?
He saw Inosuke activating that bizarre Breathing style, attacking Gyokko like a madman, shouting about making the act more realistic.
He saw their fierce battle.
He saw Inosuke deliberately selling an opening to create an escape opportunity—getting whipped away by tentacles, vomiting blood, collapsing, life and death unknown.
Then he saw the enraged Hashira arrive, shamelessly ganging up on Gyokko.
And that idiot Gyokko—right up until his death—still didn't know what he was thinking, missing the best chance to escape.
The memories cut off.
Muzan fell silent. The laboratory was deathly still.
After a long while, he slowly let out a breath. The anger on his face faded, replaced by a complicated expression.
"So that's how it was…"
"Inosuke… to gain the Hashira's absolute trust, he didn't hesitate to injure himself so badly.
He knew that if he didn't risk his life, they would grow suspicious.
It's just that Gyokko failed to seize the opportunity, failed to understand his painstaking intent."
"Fine.
Using the life of an Upper Rank Five in exchange for two Hashira's complete trust,
and a chance to infiltrate the core leadership of the Demon Slayer Corps…"
"Ruthless.
Truly ruthless.
Even more ruthless than I was back then."
Muzan stood up and walked to the mirror, gazing at his perfect visage.
"Gyokko didn't die in vain. He sacrificed himself for the greater plan.
As long as Inosuke can fully infiltrate Ubuyashiki's side,
even if more Lower Ranks die—or even a few Upper Ranks—
it will all be worth it."
"Doma… Doma…"
Muzan murmured softly, a satisfied, cold smile curling at his lips.
"You really raised me a fine dog."
...
While Yoshiwara was burning with battle—
Far away, at the Eternal Paradise Cult.
Inside the main hall, the stove burned warmly.
Kotoha was in a very good mood today—Inosuke had sent a letter back, and even sent friends to visit.
So she decided to personally cook a lavish dinner to welcome the two new guests.
At this very moment, the cult leader Doma stood at a small blackboard, holding a teaching rod.
Written on the board in big characters:
Eternal Paradise Cult Survival Rule #1: Kotoha-chan is always right
Seated below were the "students"—
Daki and Gyutaro, newly employed and still utterly confused.
And Akaza, wearing an apron, having just returned from chopping firewood, his face dark.
"Ahem. Class is in session."
Doma tapped the blackboard, smiling warmly at this group of top-tier demon combatants.
"Since everyone will be living in this household, you must follow its rules.
For family harmony—and so that Inosuke will return to a warm home—we need unified training."
Daki raised her hand nervously.
"Lord Doma… um, aren't we demons?
Why do we need to learn this?"
"Oh my, little Daki, you don't understand."
Doma fanned himself.
"Outside, we're demons. Here, we're family.
And what's most important between family members is… emotional intelligence!"
He pointed at Akaza.
"Lord Akaza, as the most senior resident here, set an example for everyone."
Doma picked up a bowl of soup from the table—a test batch Kotoha had just brought over.
Its color was an ominous deep purple, with several unidentified objects floating inside.
"Let's say this is a soup Kotoha-chan spent three hours making.
But she accidentally used sugar instead of salt, and vinegar instead of soy sauce.
You take a sip and feel like you're drinking foot-washing water.
Now Kotoha-chan looks at you expectantly and asks if it tastes good.
How do you answer?"
Gyutaro stared at the soup and swallowed. That looked corrosive enough to dissolve a stomach.
Everyone's eyes turned to Akaza.
Expressionless, Akaza picked up the bowl.
Not just because of Doma's threat—but because he saw that person's shadow in Kotoha.
He couldn't bear to disappoint such a gentle woman.
Gulp.
He tilted his head back and downed it in one go.
His face instantly turned green, veins bulging on his forehead, but he forcibly held it in.
Setting the bowl down, Akaza took a deep breath and spoke in a solemn tone:
"This soup… has remarkable layers of flavor.
The first taste is sour and bitter, the aftertaste sweet.
This is… the taste of home—full of vitality and life. Very good."
Clap clap clap clap!
Doma applauded wildly.
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!
As expected of Lord Akaza!
That ability to lie through your teeth—ah, no, your refined palate truly moves me!"
Daki and Gyutaro were dumbfounded.
Is this the world of the strong?
Even drinking poison can be turned into 'vitality of life'?
"Alright, next question."
Doma turned his smiling gaze to Daki.
"If Kotoha-chan gets inspired and makes us a piece of clothing,
but one sleeve is longer than the other and the collar is crooked.
She asks you to try it on—what do you say?"
Daki panicked. She only knew how to kill and act cute—how was she supposed to know this?
"I… I'd say… it's very unique?"
"Too ordinary! Again!"
Doma rapped the board sternly.
"You need emotion! You need to make Kotoha-chan feel like a genius!"
Daki struggled for a long while. Finally, seeing her brother's encouraging gaze, she shouted:
"This—this breaks convention! It's art!
Only someone like Sister Kotoha could design something so… so free-spirited!
I love it! I'll wear it every day—until I die!"
"Very good!"
Doma nodded in satisfaction.
"A bit exaggerated, but the emotion is on point! Looks like little Daki has talent!"
Finally, Doma turned to Gyutaro.
"If Inosuke comes back and yells at you, treats you like free labor, and even steals your food—
what do you do?"
Gyutaro's dead-fish eyes rolled as he answered hoarsely:
"Young Master… that means he thinks highly of me.
Having my food stolen by Young Master is an honor.
I'll lick the bowl clean and ask if he wants more."
"Full marks! Everyone gets full marks!"
Doma happily tossed aside the teaching rod, feeling like a true educational genius.
"It seems everyone has deeply grasped the core culture of the Paradise Faith.
As long as Kotoha-chan and Inosuke are happy, what does a little suffering matter?"
"Alright, class dismissed!
Lord Akaza, go clear the snow on the back mountain.
Daki-chan, help Kotoha-chan wind yarn.
Gyutaro, go squat at the entrance and be a mascot."
Watching the demons busy themselves, Doma sat on the lotus platform, fanning himself with his golden fan, smiling like a fox that had stolen cream.
"Oh my, what a peaceful day."
He pulled out Inosuke's letter again and reread it.
"Inosuke, Inosuke… what big thing are you doing out there?
Daddy has managed the household perfectly for you—even prepared watchdogs and maids."
"I really look forward to the day you come back,
and see the expressions on this whole 'family' you've assembled."
◇ The book is now complete! Thank you for all your support throughout this journey.
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