"God?"
Kibutsuji Muzan was filled with fear in the face of the unknown; something he hadn't anticipated had appeared again!
The appearance of Tsugikuni Yoriichi four hundred years ago made him realize that even weak humans could occasionally pose a threat to his life.
And such individuals often brought things that caused him trouble.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi brought the Breathing Technique, which gave the Demon Slayers, who for centuries had been no match for demons, the power to contend with the Twelve Kizuki.
This time, had an individual appeared who could allow humans to use powers similar to Blood Demon Art?
And they were already so powerful that Douma was instantly killed with almost no ability to fight back.
Why did he believe Douma was instantly killed? In the memories he received, Douma hadn't even harmed a single hair on that Demon Slayer; instead, Douma was instantly killed by the opponent's power, which was similar to Blood Demon Art.
This power, similar to Blood Demon Art, absolutely countered demons.
The panic of his life being threatened arose in Muzan's heart, his heartbeat pounding like a drum, and Kibutsuji Muzan's teeth ground together with a grinding sound.
"Besides sunlight and the Demon Slayer's blade, now there's something else that can threaten my life!"
"Why do things always appear to oppose me!"
"Is there really a god or Buddha in this world?"
Kibutsuji Muzan's expression kept changing.
No! There are absolutely no gods or Buddhas in this world.
In the thousand years he had lived, he had never seen a god or Buddha.
Even when he had once killed all the monks in an entire temple, all the priests in an entire shrine, and killed tens of thousands of people, he had not suffered any heavenly retribution and continued to live well in this world.
"Just a special human, like Tsugikuni Yoriichi..."
Kibutsuji Muzan repeatedly read the memories after Douma's death.
"In swordsmanship, she's not as strong as Tsugikuni Yoriichi, but that power that instantly kills demons..."
It could definitely kill him.
"Phew~ No big deal, it's just a human." Kibutsuji Muzan's expression slowly calmed, and he continued to bleed himself for his experiments.
Humans live for a maximum of a hundred years; he had outlived Tsugikuni Yoriichi.
At worst, he would stay in the Infinity Castle for a hundred years and outlive that special Demon Slayer until she died of old age.
Even if her power, similar to Blood Demon Art, was passed down, it wouldn't matter.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi also passed down the Breathing Technique, but now these Demon Slayers, whether in Breathing Technique or swordsmanship, are far inferior to him.
Those Hashira can only deal with Lower Rank Demons; in these four hundred years, almost all of the Hashira have been killed by the Upper Ranks.
"Douma's death wasn't entirely worthless." Kibutsuji Muzan thought, also fortunate that Douma drew out that Demon Slayer; if he had accidentally encountered her one day, it might have replayed the scene from four hundred years ago.
...
Asakusa, Tokyo, at night, was brightly lit and bustling, with upper-class people in suits and lower-class people in coarse cloth mingling, and the fusion of Western and local cultures created a very novel atmosphere.
Local ancient-style signboards, Western-style buildings, and streetcars moved along wide streets, making clattering sounds.
In a quiet place that looked like a park.
At a temporary udon noodle cart, the middle-aged owner was chatting animatedly with a young man who exuded an air of nobility.
"Customer, how is it? Is it delicious? This is my grandfather's grandfather's udon noodle recipe, passed down to me through seven generations."
Xia Wei slurped down a mouthful of fragrant udon noodles, smiling and giving a thumbs up: "Not bad, it ranks in the top ten of all the noodle dishes I've eaten."
The owner's face wrinkled with joy: "It's a great honor to be praised by such a distinguished person as yourself."
Although he didn't know who the young man in front of him was, the nobility he exuded, which even the sons of national ministers couldn't compare to, surely meant his identity was astonishingly grand.
Later, when this customer became famous, he could also put up a sign saying that such a noble person praised his udon noodles.
Xia Wei was just eating noodles ordinarily, but every movement he made exuded an undeniable nobility, even though he was trying hard to conceal his aura as a god.
This was still shortly after he obtained his divinity, and he wasn't very skilled with his own power; once he became more proficient, he could hide himself as an ordinary person.
"It's very fragrant, Boss, another bowl." Xia Wei pushed the empty bowl forward.
"Right away, customer."
Xia Wei's eyes, which had hidden his divine power, turned a light gold, and a slight curve played on his lips.
After taking in the Demon Slayer Corps, he certainly couldn't just stay cooped up in the divine realm; he wanted to have a good time in this era.
This era was very new to him; he was a person from the 21st century, and he had only seen the early 20th century in blurry black-and-white documentaries.
Of course, it wasn't just for fun; Muzan would turn Tokyo into a living hell before dawn, and ordinary people were ultimately innocent.
Moreover, only under disaster would the manifestation of a god have legitimacy.
And tonight, he would take the opportunity to make the existence of a god known to the whole world.
He believed that the existence of a god was a very important matter for humanity.
The saying 'there are gods three feet above your head' would become a reality.
With a stronger existence above their heads, humans would not pull the irreversible trigger.
Just like 'capital punishment,' capital punishment is respect for life.
Those ambitious people and criminals, when taking action, would not act recklessly because of 'there are gods three feet above your head.'
Xia Wei's gaze now turned to the street not far behind him, where two familiar figures walked past in his line of sight.
A yellow-haired boy, clutching a red-haired boy with a red scar on his forehead who was carrying a box on his back, sniffling and trembling with fear.
"Tanjiro... the letter said there would be many, many demons here, and all the Demon Slayer Corps members are coming this way. I'm so scared, let's go back! When the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up."
Tanjiro said seriously with a straight face: "How can you say that, Zenitsu? You're talking about running away again. If you're scared, just hide behind me, I'll protect you."
Zenitsu Agatsuma's eyes welled up with tears of emotion, and he choked back a sob as he wiped his nose: "You're so good, Tanjiro."
Saying this, he cautiously looked left and right, afraid a demon would suddenly pop out: "But speaking of which, where are we supposed to gather? The letter didn't say."
Tanjiro shook his head: "I don't know either."
Xia Wei withdrew his gaze and smiled; the potential of the three youngsters was also great, not inferior to the Hashira, and perhaps Tanjiro's potential was even stronger than the Hashira.
He continued to slurp the udon noodles in his hand; as a god, he didn't need to eat to fill his stomach, but eating to savor delicious flavors was something he could never give up.
After Zenitsu Agatsuma and Tanjiro disappeared from his sight, another familiar figure appeared in his view.
The world was so small, or rather, as the god of destiny, his very existence had already disturbed the original timeline.
Crack!
The sound of a glass bottle shattering rang out not far behind Xia Wei.
A woman in a kimono, gentle in appearance and full of maternal aura... a female demon was drenched in sweat, looking in terror at Xia Wei, who was eating noodles at the udon noodle cart.
At her feet was a broken medicine bottle that had just fallen to the ground.
Beside her, a young man with very sharp eyes was also sweating profusely like her, his body trembling uncontrollably.