The night wind, mixed with the stench of blood and burning, spread from the village at the foot of the mountain toward the forest.
Five figures shoved each other as they moved along the forest path. They were less than three feet tall, with dirty blue-gray skin and fleshy tumors protruding between the sparse hair on their heads. These were the common lower-level demons of this era, known as Blue-skinned Oni. They often attached themselves to Great Demons and made a living by pillaging human villages.
The Blue-skinned Oni walking at the front cradled a severed arm in its arms, shreds of meat hanging from its lips, its expression satisfied.
"The road ahead is blocked."
The leading Blue-skinned Oni stopped, a low growl like a beast guarding its food rumbling in its throat.
Standing right on the path they had to take to return to their nest was a person.
The person wore a set of tattered red armor, the plates reconnected with rough hemp rope. The helmet was long lost, revealing messy white hair and a Crimson Oni Mask beneath it.
He was not breathing, his chest showed no movement, and a gray, cold mist swirled around him.
An Ghost Samurai.
In this world where humans and demons coexist, this was a special type of undead existence.
In life, they were highly skilled human Martial Artists. In death, due to obsessions or heavy karmic sins, they did not enter Reincarnation, and their souls forcibly absorbed the Demonic Qi of heaven and earth to reshape their bodies. They retained human combat techniques while possessing the physique of a demon.
Usually, Ghost Samurai are silent killing machines.
But this one seemed to not have a normal brain.
The blocking Ghost Samurai lowered his head, his left thumb stroking the tsuba of the black tachi at his waist, muttering to himself.
"I know you're a picky eater. The blood of that pig demon last time was too greasy and disgusted you. Didn't I give you a full rust-removal maintenance session afterward?"
The Blue-skinned Oni looked at each other.
The Ghost Samurai didn't even look at them, continuing to talk to the sword in his hand: "Although these are just small fry tonight, they have the advantage of being fresh. And Blue-skinned Oni, while their meat is sour and astringent, have plenty of resentment in their bone marrow. You should like that crunchy texture."
"You say you want a higher-level offering? Like the famous Shuten-doji?"
The Ghost Samurai sighed and tapped his fingers lightly on the hilt: "We need to take it step by step. Your current sharpness still can't cut through the skin of a Great Demon. Once you finish this meal and your favorability... no, your rapport increases, we'll go challenge stronger ones. Be obedient, don't be difficult."
The leading Blue-skinned Oni felt insulted.
As the lowest existence in the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, they were indeed often treated as cannon fodder by Great Demons, but they were definitely not ingredients to be casually commented on by a lunatic talking to his sword.
"Kill him!"
The leading Blue-skinned Oni shrieked, threw away the severed arm, pulled a leg-bone club stained with black blood from behind its waist, tensed its hind leg muscles, and lunged out.
The other four Blue-skinned Oni followed closely, splitting to both sides; this was their customary formation for hunting lone Martial Artists.
Hikaru stopped his one-sided conversation with the weapon in his hand.
"Looks like I don't need to do any persuasion; the food has delivered itself."
He looked up, his pale face expressionless, only those eyes—with black sclera and scarlet pupils—locking onto the incoming stench.
His perspective switched instantly.
Hikaru looked at the semi-transparent panel that only he could see in his field of view.
[demon blade muramasa (Fake): Hungry. Current mood: Irritated.]
"What a high-maintenance Young Miss."
Hikaru whispered, shifting his center of gravity downward.
Facing the leg-bone club smashing down from the air, he did not retreat.
An Ghost Samurai's body does not need to breathe, so naturally, there is no such thing as "adjusting one's Qi".
His left thumb violently pushed the tsuba out by an inch.
"Clang—!"
A clear sound, like the roar of a Dragon, exploded.
Iaijutsu: Against the Wind.
The black blade light drew a counter-intuitive upward arc under the moon.
The leading Blue-skinned Oni was still in mid-air when its vision went black. The hard leg-bone club in its hand, along with the tough skin it was so proud of, was as fragile as rotten paper before this streak of black.
The blade sliced into muscle, sliding through the gaps in the bone without the slightest resistance.
Two severed halves of the body fell to the ground, accompanied by a rain of blood.
Hikaru flipped his wrist; the blade did not return to its sheath but instead swept horizontally.
"The first one, how's the texture?"
He asked.
The tachi in his hand, named "muramasa", trembled. A faint, eerie purple light emerged on the originally dull hamon of the blade. The Blue-skinned Oni blood staining the edge instantly seeped into the steel and disappeared.
[demon blade muramasa: Mood changed to'slightly comforted', sharpness increased by 5%.]
The remaining four Blue-skinned Oni saw their leader die instantly and halted their charge, but fear immediately ignited their ferocity.
The two on the left opened their mouths wide, spitting out two globs of green acid, while the two on the right crouched and rushed forward, attempting to attack Hikaru's lower body.
That was [Corrosive Poison Saliva], the only ranged method of the Blue-skinned Oni, capable of easily melting ordinary iron armor.
Hikaru did not retreat but Advanced.
The straw sandals on his feet stomped hard on the ground, the earth exploded, and he turned into a blur, cutting into the left side.
[Ghost Step].
This was a skill he had figured out himself.
Utilizing demon power to burst with speed instantly, achieving a near-teleportation dash over a short distance.
The two globs of acid landed in empty space, sizzling.
Hikaru had already closed the distance to the two poison-spitting Blue-skinned Oni.
The muramasa in his hand didn't use any fancy sword techniques, but the simplest 'Kesa-giri' (diagonal slash).
The blade slashed down.
The head of the Blue-skinned Oni on the left soared into the sky.
Immediately after, leveraging the momentum of the slash, Hikaru's body spun like a top, the blade drawing a circle behind his back, precisely parrying a claw that was sneaking up from behind.
"Clang!"
The sound of metal clashing rang out.
The claw of the sneaking Blue-skinned Oni was shattered by the impact. It screamed and tried to retreat, only to find the black tachi clinging to it like a maggot on bone.
Hikaru held the sword with one hand, the tip trembling slightly, executing an original sword technique he had realized during battle—the Thrust.
Pfft.
The tip of the blade pierced the throat of this Blue-skinned Oni, pinning it to the old locust tree behind it.
"It's still warm, eat while it's hot."
Hikaru said to the sword, then violently pulled the blade out.
The corpse slid down.
The last remaining Blue-skinned Oni finally broke down, dropped its weapon, turned, and dove into the bushes, scrambling up the mountain on all fours.
"Don't let it run away, that's the dessert."
Hikaru formed a hand seal with his left hand, and a ball of ghostly blue fire condensed at his pale fingertips.
Demonic Technique: Ghost Firefly.
Although it was just a basic Demonic Technique used for illumination and tracking, under the infusion of the Ghost Samurai's demon power, this ghost fire flew out like a maggot on bone, instantly sticking to the back of the fleeing Blue-skinned Oni.
The fire exploded, and the Blue-skinned Oni screamed and fell.
Hikaru walked over unhurriedly.
The Blue-skinned Oni turned over, shivering as it looked at the approaching Ghost Samurai, whimpering and begging for mercy.
Hikaru raised the sword, examining the blade against the moonlight.
"You say you're not full yet?"
He looked at the demon on the ground.
"Sorry, my kid is still growing."
With a raise of his hand, the blade fell.
The head rolled into the grass.
This forest returned to dead silence, with only the stench of blood growing stronger.
Hikaru shook off the last bit of blood remaining on the blade—actually, there wasn't much left, as most had been devoured by the blade itself.
He opened the System panel.
[demon blade muramasa (Mass-produced) has absorbed the essence and blood of five Blue-skinned Oni.]
[Sharpness: 52 → 53]
[favorability: +5]
[Current favorability: 15 (Friendly)]
[Bond Dialogue Unlocked (1): It feels that while this kind of low-level blood has an average taste, it has the advantage of being plentiful and filling. It hopes to try the blood of a human Demon Slayer with magical power next time.]
Hikaru looked at the panel, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"The blood of an Demon Slayer is too scalding; it's easy to chip your teeth. Let's stick to the buffet for now."
He slowly sheathed the long sword.
Click.
The sound of the tsuba locking into the scabbard was exceptionally clear in the night.