With his Blood Demon Art unleashed, Shinichi's speed had reached its peak, so fast that Junbo's attacks couldn't even graze his clothes. However, this constant evasive dancing, narrowly avoiding blows, filled Shinichi with frustration.
The demon blood in his veins boiled, his anger building steadily. He had been holding back for so long because he sensed Junbo's deep hatred toward demons, a hatred Shinichi himself shared. Perhaps because of this shared loathing, Shinichi had little desire to attack Junbo.
But patience has its limits, especially for a demon. The Demon Slayer Corps member, Ryuji, whom Shinichi had kicked aside in his earlier outburst, still lay slumped against a tree, unable to get back up.
Finally, in a fleeting moment, clang! Shinichi's black claws clashed with the blue Nichirin sword over and over, sparks flying everywhere. Then—shhk!—the sharp Nichirin blade pierced through Shinichi's hand, and scalding blood began to pour from the wound, sizzling on the sword's edge. But, taking advantage of this chance, Shinichi grabbed onto Junbo's sword.
Ignoring the searing pain and the chilling aura that the blade radiated, Shinichi's face twisted in fury as he roared at Junbo, "Stop this!"
Seeing Shinichi's sharp fangs as he shouted, Junbo's face was strained with veins bulging, and he too used all his strength. "In your dreams!"
Hiss! While Shinichi and Junbo were deadlocked, Shinichi felt his boiling blood gradually cool as the power of the Blood Rage began to wane. He couldn't shake off this tenacious Demon Slayer in front of him. What to do?! Wait—where was Junbo's friend, Taiping? Why hadn't he heard Taiping's voice?
Junbo, too, held his ground, sensing that the demon's strength was fading, his fiery aura diminishing. Just a bit longer—just a bit longer, and he'd have him!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Just then, several dark figures sliced through the air from the lush forest, their speed creating a howling wind.
At the same time, Shinichi's mind was flooded with frantic warnings from Taiping.
"Let go, you fool! It's dangerous!" Shinichi instinctively shouted at Junbo, but Junbo didn't budge. "Don't try any tricks! Die already…"
Shhk! Mid-sentence, Junbo's body convulsed, and the sound of flesh being pierced rang out. His hand gripping the Nichirin sword slackened, his vision blurring. With a clatter, his sword fell to the ground.
Gone, slipping away. Shinichi's gaze flickered with a hint of green light as he watched Junbo's life force ebb rapidly. He looked down and saw a blood-stained rope emerging from Junbo's chest. A rope! A single rope that had pierced through Junbo's body.
From this rope, Shinichi sensed an immense and terrifying demonic aura—one far stronger than any demon he had faced so far. Even the strongest demon Shinichi had met, Ukuramaru, would likely be nothing compared to the demon controlling this rope.
All of this happened in an instant. By the time Shinichi managed to break free and rush behind Junbo to sever the rope, it was too late. Junbo's body was yanked away like a ragdoll, disappearing into the distance. In their final moment of eye contact, Junbo's eyes, even on the verge of death, still held unyielding hatred, a deep-seated rage toward Shinichi—or rather, toward demons.
"So fast!"
The ropes appeared not just one but four or five in number. Injured Demon Slayer Ryuji, too, was wrapped up by a rope. Meanwhile, Taiping lay on the ground, his body mangled, letting out faint cries, though his demonic blood was slowly repairing his wounds.
"Taiping!" Before Shinichi could react, the ropes, moving like living serpents, retracted, leaving him standing there, seemingly forgotten.
"Stop right there!" Shinichi, filled with anger and fear, tried to chase after them. But, to his dismay, his heart suddenly seized, and his entire body shuddered, overcome by a paralyzing fatigue. Damn it, the Blood Rage time is up! No, I can't let them take those two Demon Slayers—they're in grave danger!
Suppressing the exhaustion that racked his body, Shinichi readied himself to pursue. But his gaze momentarily paused, falling upon the blue Nichirin sword lying on the ground.
Meanwhile…
"Hanai, do you smell that? This scent—it smells like… barley tea?" Kitamoto, who was walking behind Hanai, sniffed the air suspiciously. As they approached the Shirai Ruins, the faint scent of barley tea grew stronger.
Hanai, with one hand on the hilt of his Nichirin sword, surveyed their surroundings warily. Besides the odd tea-like aroma, the unsettling silence all around was enough to make Hanai's skin crawl.
Just then, footsteps approached from behind. Hanai tensed his grip on the sword hilt, but, thankfully, it was just two members of the Corps arriving from the south after receiving a message from their crow. The four Demon Slayers regrouped.
"Hanai, did we keep you waiting?"
Hanai shook his head. Moments later, another Slayer joined them, looking flustered. "Hanai, Old Man Mori said he had some urgent business to attend to and sent me to join you first. He'll catch up soon."
Hanai had expected this. While Old Man Mori had other matters, he believed the old man could handle himself. What worried Hanai more was that Ryuji and Junbo still hadn't reported in.
Hanai gestured to ask the two Slayers closest to Ryuji and Junbo's last position if they had any news.
"Ryuji and Junbo? We didn't see them on the way here. We rushed straight over after receiving the crow's message," one Slayer replied, shaking his head.
Hanai's brow furrowed. By right, Ryuji's group was the closest to him, so they should have been the first to be notified by the crow. Now, all the others had gathered, but there was no sign of them. Could something have gone wrong?
Suddenly, the overpowering scent of blood hit Hanai's nose. Everyone else noticed it, too, their faces instantly turning grave.
Hanai signaled for them to follow him and dashed toward the source of the blood scent.
At that moment, the sound of flapping wings filled the air above them. "To the southwest! To the southwest! Junbo has encountered a demon! Junbo has encountered a demon!" It was Junbo's crow.
Near the ancient Shirai ruins, an open clearing lay still and ominous. In the ground, rows of thin ropes stood upright, like iron bars, and these ropes dripped dark red, sticky blood that trickled down continuously—human blood.
Following the ropes upward, even the bravest person might feel a chill. Strung along the ropes like a line of skewered figures were dozens of humans. The ropes pierced their bodies from bottom to top. Most were already lifeless, though a few still twitched occasionally, their blood staining the soil below.
Most of these unfortunate souls wore rough, sewn garments, scattered around were axes, hunting knives, and other tools—they appeared to be young villagers from Shirai who had ventured into the forest.
Creak! Unexpectedly, the ancient water-drawing device at the edge of the ruins began turning, as if in response. One of the ropes suddenly twisted violently, extending even further. The man impaled on it, still alive, let out a soul-wrenching scream as his body was twisted and broken, ripped apart like a rag doll.
Blood sprayed down like a crimson waterfall along the rope.
The blood surged toward a strange wooden table beside the well. On the table was a dark red teapot, glowing with a sinister light. One of the ropes dipped into the teapot, drawing blood inside.
In front of the wooden table sat a hulking figure, cloaked in a dark gray robe, with long black hair and a thick black beard covering his chin. His face was marked with black lines, his sclera a haunting yellow, and in his left eye, etched in sinister characters, were the words "Lower Four."
"To intrude at a time like this… disrupting my tea. Disgraceful."
With a crack, the tea cup in his hand shattered into dust.