As Kokushibō sifted through the last remnants of memory left behind by the martial demon he’d just slain, he murmured under his breath—a whisper barely audible, as if spoken from the depths of time itself:

“Blue Spider Lily…”

The image was unmistakable.

It matched perfectly with the illustration Muzan had once shown them long ago.

Even after hundreds of years, Kokushibō could still recall the obsessive gleam in Muzan’s eyes as he spoke of that flower—the desperation, the madness, the endless craving.

For centuries, Muzan had poured everything into that search: his power, his time, and all the vast resources at his disposal.

Had he instead focused all that energy on annihilating the Demon Slayer Corps, perhaps they would’ve vanished from existence ages ago. Or at the very least, been forced into eternal hiding—never able to rise again.

But Muzan chose the flower.

And Kokushibō knew exactly why.

Even if Muzan never spoke it aloud, those who had stood by his side for centuries understood. Muzan’s deepest desire… was true immortality.

Could the Blue Spider Lily be the key?

The key to walking under the sun?

The key to becoming a flawless being—eternal and untouchable?

Demons, by nature, feared two things above all else: sunlight, and the Nichirin blades wielded by the Corps.

But Kokushibō… he had risen beyond even that.

At his level, not even the Nichirin swords posed a real threat anymore.

The only being who might still be able to kill him was his long-dead brother—Tsugikuni Yoriichi—if, by some miracle, he returned from the grave.

Barring that?

No one. Nothing.

Kokushibō turned toward a nearby demon woman and gave his order with the calmness of a falling leaf.

“Summon Akaza. Tell him to come to me—immediately.”

“Yes, Kokushibō-sama,” the woman responded softly, before fading into the shadows like mist swallowed by the night.

Kokushibō sat down cross-legged again at the simple tea table, his back straight and composed, though the storm inside him continued to churn. He took a sip of bitter tea.

But even its sharp taste couldn’t calm the unease twisting through his chest.

— — —

“If Heaven offers you something and you do not reach out to take it, disaster will befall you.”

“If you ignore your moment… destruction will follow.”

“I, Kokushibō… fear nothing.”

— — —

The Following Night

As dusk cloaked the skies in velvet black, Kokushibō moved swiftly with a small elite squad of Martial Demons, heading toward the Kumagaya region.

This place wasn’t chosen at random by the Demon Slayer Corps.

Though they lacked precise intel on Kokushibō’s whereabouts, a devastating clash had recently broken out between Akaza and Dōma at the edge of Kanagawa Prefecture.

The destruction it caused sent ripples through the Corps’ intelligence network.

And something else—an eerie silence. Muzan’s subordinates had completely vanished from Kanagawa.

Putting the pieces together, the Corps realized: Kokushibō was close.

So they selected a location far enough to give them tactical advantage, but close enough to bait him into coming—without giving him time to gather his full forces.

In truth, whether the Martial Demons fell or survived didn’t matter anymore.

This wasn’t about a skirmish.

This was about one battle.

Kokushibō. Muzan.

If either of them died…

…every other demon born from their blood would perish with them.

— — —

Tachibana Kyūjō stood still, senses honed, his awareness stretched to the edge of the battlefield. After a moment, he opened his eyes and spoke quietly to Ubuyashiki Kagaya, who stood beside him.

“He’s coming. Kokushibō is close.”

Kagaya immediately moved.

Everything fell into place.

He ordered the Flower Hashira to bring Yamabiko’s body back to the Blue Spider Lily—reenacting the same moment as two days ago.

After the command was given, Kyūjō added:

“Kokushibō isn’t alone. Akaza is with him.”

“Alongside eight Martial Demons.”

“Three of them are likely at Upper Moon level. The other five… probably on par with Lower Moons.”

Kagaya’s face tightened, but his voice remained steady. He turned to the assembled swordsmen and gave his orders—sharp and clear.

“Once they step into the gorge—”

“Stone Hashira, Himejima Gyōmei—your target is Akaza. Hold him there!”

“Sun Hashira, Kamado Tanjūrō—keep your eyes on Kokushibō. If he doesn’t attack, do not engage recklessly!”

“Three Instructors—Urokodaki Sakonji, Kuwajima Jigoro, and Ishikawa Mannosuke—you take the strongest three Martial Demons. Don’t chase victory. Just stall them!”

“To the remaining Hashira—choose your opponents and act accordingly!”

“Kinoe, Hinoe, and Kinoto ranks—carry out your assigned formations!”

Kagaya drew a long breath and raised his voice one last time:

“I, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, wish you this—may luck walk beside your blades.”

“Now go—move out!!”

— — —

Moments later, Kokushibō stood at the edge of the gorge.

He gazed into the chasm, eyes dark and endless, scanning the cliffs that boxed the narrow valley.

“Humans…” he whispered softly.

“Why do you always run from truth?”

“No matter how many ants gather… they cannot topple a tree.”

Without hesitation, Kokushibō stepped forward.

And in a blur, his figure vanished—swallowed whole by the shadows of the gorge.

— — —

Tokyo — Asakusa District

Kibutsuji Muzan sat upright with a violent jolt, breath ragged, sweat soaking his temples.

Beside him, Rei Haruno—known now as Rek Kibutsuji—stirred from her slumber, still half-asleep and unclothed.

“Tsukihiko…? What’s wrong?” she asked softly, reaching for the bedsheet to cover herself.

But before the fabric even brushed her skin—

A tendril of flesh, writhing like a serpent, lashed out from Muzan’s body.

It struck without hesitation.

In the blink of an eye, Rei’s body was shredded—blood and flesh splattering across the silk sheets.

Muzan’s face twisted in fury and disgust.

He couldn’t afford to pretend anymore. Not now.

He was no longer Tsukihiko.

He was Kibutsuji Muzan—the King of Demons.

His eyes gleamed with the fire of rage as he absorbed the final memory left behind by Yamabiko, one of his fallen subordinates.

In that memory…

A human woman forced Yamabiko to look directly at the Blue Spider Lily blooming from the earth.

Her voice, razor-sharp, sliced through the silence:

“Kibutsuji Muzan!”

“This is the last remaining Blue Spider Lily in the world!”

“And Kokushibō is already here. He’ll reach it before you ever can.”

“You will never become a perfect being!”

And with those words, her blade fell.

The vision faded into nothingness.

— — —

That single memory was all Muzan needed.

He knew.

That was the flower he’d hunted for a thousand years.

The only one left.

And the Demon Slayer Corps had hidden it from him all this time.

“Unforgivable…” he hissed to himself.

No wonder he could never find it.

But why now?

Why reveal it now, of all times?

If they didn’t have a way to kill him, why would they take such a risk?

Were they… trying to make him fight Kokushibō?

Foolish.

Kokushibō could never defeat him.

Still—

The temptation… the possibility… of Kokushibō reaching that flower first…

Just imagining it made Muzan’s body shake uncontrollably.

His teeth ground against each other with such force that his jaw cracked, and fragments of teeth spilled into his mouth.

And then he roared—voice high, raw, unhinged:

“Nakime!!”

“Summon the Twelve Kizuki!”

“Teleport me to the place where Yamabiko died!”

“Now!! Not a second late!!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep