"Everyone, on this beautiful night, come and appreciate my work."
A bronze-colored Gyokko appeared before everyone. Accompanied by the sound of clapping, ink-like black water gushed out from the mouth of the pot, and an extremely unsettling scene appeared before their eyes.
The bodies of five Demon Slayers were twisted together, now silent and breathless. Their nichirin blades were still gripped tightly in their hands, and their young faces still bore expressions of pain, despair, or anger.
"The End of the Demon Slayers—what do you all think of this name? To preserve the elements of a swordsman, I purposefully didn't remove their nichirin blades."
"Look at these calloused hands, the muscles formed through arduous training, the despair and resentment at the moment of death... it truly is a perfect work of art, don't you think?"
Upper Rank Five Gyokko was completely immersed in his own world.
Seeing such an unsettling scene, Kiyokawa Izumi was unexpectedly able to accept it. The two Team Members behind him felt their stomachs churning, and one of them even involuntarily vomited up his dinner.
It was so nauseating, so infuriating.
But their bodies were unexpectedly weak. Undeniably, fear lingered in their hearts; they were indeed frightened.
"Pure evil to the extreme, with completely twisted values... you truly deserve to die!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Kiyokawa Izumi's body vanished from the spot. The nichirin blade in his hand was drawn silently, its dark silver blade seemingly hiding in the darkness, not leaking even a hint of Killing Intent.
Compared to monsters like upper rank one and Upper Three, Gyokko didn't have many special qualities; he would die if his head was cut off.
This was perhaps the greatest fairness.
Although his mind was still filled with random thoughts, the movements of his hands were not slow.
Drawing his sword and slashing, he didn't even stir the surrounding air as the sharp blade quietly swept across Gyokko's neck.
"I haven't finished my introduction yet. You really don't know how to appreciate art, you utterly crude bastard!"
"Don't you feel shocked seeing such a perfect work of art?"
The voice came from another direction again.
'The sensation of the slash was wrong... As expected, he's not that easy to deal with... Gyokko can use these pots for high-speed movement, and speed happens to not be my forte. How troublesome!'
When he looked up again, the blood-red Sharingan had already surfaced. In just an instant, he memorized the locations of all the surrounding pots.
'I must be careful of Gyokko's Blood Demon Art! I can't let myself be trapped by the liquid he summons, otherwise, death is certain!'
'Even knowing his abilities, can I really last longer than Muichiro in his base state?'
'Calm down!'
'Should I attack or defend?'
Feeling immense pressure, Kiyokawa Izumi was currently in a state of fake calmness—he couldn't calm down at all. Though his facial expression remained unchanged, his thoughts were as tangled as a mess of hemp.
He didn't know whether he should attack or defend.
From the very beginning, he had never considered subjugating Gyokko alone!
The gap between them was too large; he couldn't do it.
He didn't even have a clue how to fight.
Kiyokawa Izumi also knew his state of mind was quite wrong, but he couldn't help questioning himself: Am I really more talented than Tokito Muichiro?
"Can my sword-swinging speed surpass his?"
"Are my attacks and movement techniques as ethereal and hard to catch as his?"
"What beautiful eyes, as if they carry inherent evil and misfortune. It's truly... so exciting!"
A blue pot engraved with water grass patterns appeared out of thin air. Two entirely red goldfish crawled out of the pot's mouth. Their cheeks were visibly swollen, and as they wagged their tails in mid-air, a large number of poison needles were spat out like a fine drizzle.
"Blood Demon Art: Thousand Needle Fish Kill!"
'Second Form: Flash of Interspace - Multi-Recital!'
Dazzling sword light burst forth in the dark night, and the sound of metal clashing rang out incessantly. Under the gaze of the Sharingan, Kiyokawa Izumi could clearly see the trajectory of every poison needle slicing through the air.
Three inches in front of him, it was as if an invisible barrier had been erected. The poison needles falling to the ground made crisp sounds. Kiyokawa Izumi neither dodged nor avoided, taking the move without injury relying solely on his swordsmanship and eyes.
But there was no excitement in his heart.
Because he knew that Gyokko hadn't even used his full strength.
The reason he used this move was probably to preserve the integrity of his corpse.
With a morbid personality shaped by twisted values, rather than just killing Kiyokawa Izumi, he cared more about what kind of work he could create using this Hashira.
Although he hadn't encountered a Hashira in a long time, he didn't feel that the person before him could pose a threat—in the many years since becoming an Upper Rank, he had killed too many Hashira.
Compared to those in the past, what was so special about Kiyokawa Izumi?
The strength of the two combatants was naturally unequal, and strangely, their mindsets had not adjusted either.
One was overly arrogant and conceited.
The other felt he couldn't win before the fight even began, and his fighting style had already leaned towards being conservative.
"Destroy the surrounding pots!"
Just then, an Official Member cowering in the back suddenly spoke to the teammate beside him.
Even though they were terrified, they still drew their nichirin blades—they knew they were far from being a match for an Upper Rank, so they could only do their best to destroy the surrounding pots and create an opportunity for the Hashira.
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