The young man's survival instinct overwhelmed his unwillingness, and without much hesitation, he endured the severe pain and fear.
"I understand. Thank you. Please... please be careful too."
He gritted his teeth, dragging his injured leg, and stumbled towards the wisteria flower sea.
This was just the beginning. The demons on Mount Fujikasane were more numerous and dispersed than Ryoma had imagined. He had saved one, but he couldn't save everyone.
Watching the still-shaken young man stumble and disappear into the faint glow of the wisteria flower sea, Ryoma turned, his gaze directed towards the deeper parts of Mount Fujikasane.
He did not continue searching the periphery but began to climb higher. The few fodder demons he encountered along the way varying in strength.
Suddenly, a strange noise sounded from the tree canopy above.
A dark shadow, carrying a fishy wind, descended from the sky, its sharp claws like hooks, aiming straight for Ryoma's seemingly unguarded back.
Ryoma didn't even turn his head, his senses had already captured that killing intent.
With a flick of his wrist, his nichirin blade was thrust upwards in a reverse grip at an unusual angle, and a faint blue cold light suddenly illuminated the tip of the blade.
Ice Breathing: Seventh Form: Piercing Ice Spear!
Ice condensed at the tip of the blade. The moment it was thrust out, a slender, sharp, rapidly rotating ice crystal drill appeared out of thin air.
With a piercing whoosh and absolute cold, it arrived first, despite being launched later.
"Pfft!"
The ice drill penetrated from the jaw, piercing through the entire head of the attacker.
The next moment, terrifying cold air exploded from within.
The demon's greedy, twisted expression, along with his upper body, was instantly frozen from the inside out into a crystal-clear ice sculpture by the extreme cold.
The ice sculpture, maintaining its pouncing posture, crashed to the ground, then shattered with a "clatter" into countless ice crystals wrapped with dark flesh residue, scattering everywhere.
The battle ended cleanly, but Ryoma's brows furrowed even tighter.
These demons were too weak, so weak that they seemed to be appetizers for a more terrifying existence.
After circling the area a few times and not finding the Hand Demon, and not knowing if Tanjiro had encountered the Hand Demon, Ryoma decided to find a high vantage point to see if he could locate him.
He quickened his pace and finally climbed a steep rock face.
Just as he reached the summit and overlooked the forest below, a thick, putrid stench, like swamp gas, almost suffocating, assailed him.
"Ahhhhh—!"
"No, impossible! I haven't heard... that there would be something like this in the selection!"
Ryoma's pupils suddenly contracted. He saw, under the moonlight, a clearing in the forest that had been forcibly emptied.
A huge, bloated mountain of flesh, made up of countless pale arms, was writhing.
In front, a candidate holding a nichirin blade was running for his life, with the huge, putrid-smelling mountain of flesh chasing him from behind.
Some of the arms on that demon's body were twisted, some convulsing, like drowning people struggling silently.
This was the culprit that had devoured Sakonji's dozens of disciples—the Hand Demon.
"Hehehe... run, little snack."
At this moment, the Hand Demon was emitting a spine-chilling giggle, and several of his arms were extending like pythons.
He easily coiled around a panicked young swordsman who was trying to escape, slowly lifting him into the air.
"Found it... but it looks like Tanjiro hasn't arrived yet."
Ryoma instantly swooped down from the rock summit.
He didn't even draw his blade, merely kicking the end of his scabbard in mid-air.
Swish!
His nichirin blade shot out like lightning, transforming into a cold arc of light.
The blade severed the arm, and the rescued swordsman fell to the ground.
"Oh? Another little bug?"
The Hand Demon rotated his small eyes, buried in a pile of arms, and mockingly fixed his gaze on the intruding Ryoma.
But upon seeing the fox mask, that mockery was instantly replaced by a morbid ecstasy.
"Here again! Another one of Urokodaki's little foxes! Hehehehe!"
Ryoma landed steadily, caught his rebounding nichirin blade, and re-positioned it, his cold gaze sweeping over the mountain of flesh.
He calmly said, "Yes. But it's time for a filthy existence like you to vanish here."
"Hahahahaha!"
The Hand Demon seemed to have heard the biggest joke, and the entire mountain of flesh trembled violently from his wild laughter.
"Kill me? You? It's been forty-seven years! That bastard Urokodaki trapped me here for forty-seven years! But I've always lived! Lived very well! And here... I've eaten fifty people!"
The swordsman rescued by Ryoma, hearing the words "forty-seven years" and "fifty people," lost the last trace of color from his face.
His sanity completely devoured by fear, he screamed and scrambled away on all fours, only wanting to escape this nightmarish scene.
The Hand Demon clearly enjoyed this fear. He ignored the escapee and instead used more malicious, more specific words to provoke Ryoma, trying to make Ryoma lose his composure by mentioning the deaths of Sakonji's disciples.
"Eleven, twelve, thirteen... you're the fourteenth."
No sooner had he spoken than, on the other side of the forest, the Hand Demon saw Tanjiro, also wearing a fox mask, arrive.
"Oh... Excellent! Tonight, there's a fifteenth!"
The Hand Demon's laughter grew even more shrill.
When Tanjiro learned from the malicious boasting that this was the number of Sakonji's disciples that this demon had eaten, especially when he heard that Sabito and Makomo had already died here, and that the mask was used as a marker for identification, the string in his brain called "reason" snapped with a "crack."
"Ahhhhhh!"
Tanjiro let out a beast-like roar, charging recklessly towards the Hand Demon.
"That's it! Be angry! Then become my nourishment!"
The Hand Demon watched Tanjiro, enraged by his words and attacking him, excitedly extending several arms to grab the irrational Tanjiro. But a figure was faster than him.
Ice Breathing: Seventh Form: Piercing Ice Spear!
Ryoma instantly blocked Tanjiro, and his nichirin blade transformed into a dazzling cold star.
A rapidly rotating spiral ice drill, shimmering with a faint blue cold light and possessing a heart-stopping density, instantly formed in front of the blade tip. It emitted a sharp whooshing sound, piercing towards the Hand Demon's core head, protected by his stacked layers of fat.
"Hmm?!"
A hint of astonishment flashed in the Hand Demon's eyes.
He instinctively felt the terrifying penetrating power and the unprecedented extreme cold contained in this strike.
The dozens of arms he had extended instantly began to retract, then layered and crossed in front of his body, attempting to form a wall of flesh and blood.
The moment the ice drill struck the arm wall, Ryoma's other hand reached out. He grabbed the furious Tanjiro's back collar, and flung him backward.
"Tanjiro! Calm down!"
Ryoma's sharp cry was like a basin of ice water poured over Tanjiro's head.
"He's deliberately provoking you! Don't play into his hands!"
Tanjiro, flung away, stumbled a few steps and regained his footing, his crimson eyes glaring at the Hand Demon, his chest heaving violently, still wanting to argue.
"But it—"
However, Ryoma immediately interrupted him. "Your breathing is completely messed up!"
Ryoma's voice was firm and decisive, but his gaze never left the demon in front of him.
"Can you get revenge by charging in like this? Do you want Urokodaki-sensei to lose another disciple?!"
He took a deep breath, and the chilling aura emanating from him caused frost to condense on the ground beneath his feet.
"We'll avenge Sabito and Makomo together." Ryoma's voice was low but incredibly resolute.
"But for now, leave it to me!"