The group of Demon Slayer trainees stopped their chatter and turned around, glaring viciously at Zenitsu. The buzz-cut boy who had taken the punch to the nose was absolutely livid, his eyes burning with rage. "You got a fucking death wish?!"
"Oh, I was wondering who it was. Turns out it's the other useless piece of trash. Lord Kuwajima really is pathetic, isn't he? That garbage Lu Li can't learn Thunder Breathing, and you only know the First Form! Hahaha!" another boy laughed, his tone dripping with profound mockery.
Consumed by absolute fury, Zenitsu didn't care that he was severely outnumbered. He completely abandoned logic and charged forward, tackling the group.
However, because Zenitsu possessed a fundamentally gentle heart, he consciously restrained his superhuman physical strength, terrified of actually causing them severe, permanent injury. Combined with the sheer numbers disadvantage, he was quickly overwhelmed. Two fists couldn't fight four hands. In a matter of minutes, he was beaten black and blue, forced to the ground.
"Trash is trash. Lord Kuwajima wasting his time teaching you two is an absolute tragedy."
The buzz-cut boy, who had taken the initial punch, spat on the ground next to the fallen Zenitsu. His expression was one of intense disdain, but deeply hidden within his eyes was a burning, ugly jealousy.
"Let's go. There's no point talking to garbage," another boy said, grabbing the buzz-cut boy's arm to pull him away. He felt they had done enough. If they kept beating Zenitsu, they might accidentally cause a serious incident. Even though he found Zenitsu incredibly annoying, he couldn't deny they were all Demon Slayer trainees with tragic pasts, and they would ultimately all be fighting demons on the same battlefield.
A minor scuffle was one thing, but inflicting a life-threatening injury on a fellow trainee would cross a massive line.
"Tch. I'll let you off the hook today," the buzz-cut boy sneered, turning to leave. However, his foot suddenly stopped dead. He couldn't move his leg. Zenitsu had grabbed his ankle in a vice grip.
"Apologize..."
Zenitsu's face was bruised and swollen, his voice a hoarse, ragged gasp.
"Hah?! What the hell are you muttering? Are you sick in the head?" The buzz-cut boy tried to violently yank his foot free, but to his absolute shock, it wouldn't budge a single millimeter. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes. How the hell is his grip so strong?!
"I... I said apologize! Don't you dare... talk bad about Senior Brother Lu..." Zenitsu choked out weakly, his fingers digging like iron claws into the boy's ankle.
"Hah?! Looks like you haven't been beaten enough!"
Furious and humiliated, the buzz-cut boy raised his heavy wooden scabbard, aiming a vicious, full-force swing directly at the back of Zenitsu's skull.
"Stop...!"
His friend shouted in alarm, terrified the blow might actually crack Zenitsu's skull open. But the scabbard was already descending.
Just as they braced themselves for the sickening crunch of bone, the scabbard abruptly halted exactly two inches above Zenitsu's head.
A hand had effortlessly caught the scabbard from above, moving with a descending speed far greater than the swing itself.
The buzz-cut boy froze in utter shock. He frantically tried to yank his scabbard free, but it felt as if the wood had been fused with solid bedrock. It wouldn't budge a single millimeter. Trembling, his gaze slowly traveled up the arm holding the scabbard, finally landing on the face of the newcomer.
Bathed in the blood-red light of the setting sun, a tall man wearing a pitch-black trench coat stood over them. His handsome, masculine face was terrifyingly dark. A fleeting, microscopic flash of absolute, murderous intent crossed the man's eyes—an intent so cold it literally caused the ambient temperature of the street to plummet.
The buzz-cut boy desperately yanked his scabbard again, but it was completely useless. "H-How is this possible... Aren't you..."
Lu Li didn't say a single word. He simply let go. Because the buzz-cut boy was pulling with all his might, the sudden release of tension sent him violently crashing backward, landing hard on his ass.
The rest of the trainees were completely paralyzed by the invisible, suffocating aura of pure violence radiating from Lu Li. They were absolutely terrified and profoundly confused. They couldn't comprehend how the legendary "Trash of Mt. Momo"—the man who had supposedly failed to learn a Breathing Style for a decade—could possibly possess such apocalyptic strength.
Lu Li gently pulled Zenitsu to his feet. He swept an icy, apathetic gaze over the trembling group. His voice was completely flat.
"Get lost."
The paralyzed trainees instantly snapped out of their stupor. Without a single word, they spun around and fled in absolute terror. The buzz-cut boy, however, was so utterly terrified that his legs had completely turned to jelly. He couldn't even stand up. A warm, dark stain rapidly spread across the front of his pants.
"Senior Brother Lu..." Zenitsu murmured weakly, his face flushed with deep shame.
Lu Li gently supported Zenitsu, slowly guiding him down the street. "Are you blaming me for not beating them up to avenge you?"
"How could I...? I just wanted to say... I didn't mean to start a fight," Zenitsu mumbled, keeping his head down. He was terrified his senior brother would be angry with him for causing trouble.
"So why did you fight them?" Lu Li asked softly.
"I... It was nothing really..." Zenitsu hesitated for a long moment before forcing a wobbly smile. "It was my fault. Just a stupid verbal argument."
He absolutely refused to let Lu Li know that other people were calling him a useless loser. He knew it would break his senior brother's heart. He was just deeply frustrated. He knew starting a fight was wrong, but he had still fought them, and to make it worse, he had lost. In the end, his senior brother still had to step in and save him.
Lu Li gently ruffled Zenitsu's messy blonde hair. "The reason I didn't crush them for you... is because I firmly believe that in the future, you will defeat them yourself. The only reason you lost today is because you are far too kind."
Zenitsu's eyes widened, a flicker of light returning to his pupils. "In the future... will I really win?"
"You will absolutely win. Whether you choose to physically beat them down, or simply force them to acknowledge your strength and sincerely apologize to you... both are valid victories," Lu Li smiled warmly.
In truth, Lu Li had arrived at the scene several seconds before the fight ended. He had overheard the final exchange and instantly deduced exactly what the fight was about.
Watching the bruised, battered Zenitsu desperately clinging to the boy's ankle, demanding an apology for his senior brother... it struck a deeply buried chord in Lu Li's heart.
For a brief, agonizing moment, memories of his childhood rushed back. He used to have a sect. He used to have a senior martial sister. The pure, genuine bond between fellow disciples was an incredibly beautiful thing. Zenitsu's desperate, pathetic loyalty had vividly reminded him of that profound beauty.
In this singular moment, Lu Li felt a genuine, profound affection for this cowardly, kind-hearted junior brother. From this point forward, protecting Zenitsu was no longer purely about completing a System Mission.
"If... if you really say so, Senior Brother... then I'll try my best," Zenitsu said, returning Lu Li's smile. He had absolutely zero desire to hunt those boys down for revenge. He simply wanted to become strong enough to force them to acknowledge him, to prove Gramps' teachings weren't a waste, and to make them retract their insults.
Lu Li and Zenitsu walked through the village, purchasing various snacks and ingredients. On the walk back up the mountain, Lu Li discreetly channeled [Kaido] through the hand supporting Zenitsu, silently stabilizing the boy's injuries.
Truthfully, Zenitsu hadn't suffered any severe trauma. His base attributes were simply too high. Even though the other trainees had learned Breathing Styles, their baseline attributes were likely hovering around 8 or 9 points—vastly inferior to Zenitsu.
Zenitsu hadn't lost because he was weaker; he lost because he was too fundamentally kind. He had subconsciously restrained his superhuman strength, terrified of accidentally crippling them. Consequently, the trainees' punches and kicks had only inflicted superficial, soft-tissue damage.
Because explaining magic healing spells would be incredibly tedious, Lu Li simply accelerated the healing process for the most stubborn bruises, dramatically reducing the swelling on Zenitsu's face. Given Zenitsu's mutant constitution, a good night's sleep would easily handle the rest.
"What happened to you two?" Jigoro asked, setting down his wooden ladle, his face a mask of deep confusion.
Zenitsu had just gone down the mountain to buy snacks. How the hell did he come back looking like a bruised peach? It certainly couldn't have been a demon attack. Mt. Momo was a highly classified Cultivator base; given the demons' pathetic intelligence networks, it was highly improbable they had discovered this location.
"Gramps... I..." Zenitsu stammered, deeply ashamed and entirely incapable of lying effectively.
"Zenitsu was practicing the First Form," Lu Li smoothly interjected, shooting Zenitsu a subtle wink. "His burst speed was a bit too fast, and he accidentally crashed face-first into a tree."
"Ah?! Oh! Yes, exactly... I'm sorry, Gramps. I'm just so clumsy," Zenitsu stammered, feeling an immense wave of guilt for lying to Jigoro. But he absolutely refused to let the old man know the real reason he had fought.
Jigoro stared intensely at Zenitsu and Lu Li for several long seconds. Finally, his rigid expression softened into a gentle smile. "Come sit. Eat. The rice porridge smells wonderful tonight."
He knew perfectly well these two boys were hiding something. But adults didn't need to pry into every single one of a child's secrets. As long as his two disciples were sitting together, smiling and safe... that was more than enough.
Inside the tiny wooden cabin, the three of them sat closely around the central hearth. Plumes of steam rose steadily from the hanging iron pot, warding off the lingering chill of early spring.
Lu Li, Zenitsu, and Jigoro each held a steaming bowl of rice porridge. Zenitsu constantly juggled his bowl between his hands, yelping softly because it was too hot. Jigoro watched Zenitsu with a warm, grandfatherly chuckle. Lu Li gently blew across the surface of his porridge, causing the fragrant steam to swirl and dance in the air.
For a brief, agonizing moment, Lu Li's mind drifted into a profound trance.
Once upon a time... he had sat exactly like this. Gathered around a warm fire with his Master and his senior sister, listening to his own stomach growl as they waited for the rice to finish cooking. His senior sister would always smile and serve him the very first bowl.
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