"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh—!!"
The blood-curdling scream startled the equally drowsy researcher, who leaped up from his chair and turned to look at his colleague beside him.
"Why are you... so pale? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"N-nothing. I just had a nightmare while I was dozing off."
The researcher, who was Muzan Kibutsuji in disguise, forced a smile and brushed the matter aside.
"Hey, are the results in?"
"Yeah, it was a failure."
"Is that so? What a shame. Maybe you should go home and rest. You don't seem to be in a good state right now."
"Yeah, you're right."
His mind in turmoil, Muzan suppressed the rage that made him want to crush this chatterbox before him, keeping the expression on his face. If not for the suddenness of his panic, which made him dare not act rashly, he would have killed the man long ago.
It wasn't until he was alone, leaving the laboratory, that he angrily tore the white lab coat in his hands to shreds.
"Dammit—what was that? Why was I suddenly struck with such a sense of fear?"
The old scars on his body once again brought him a burning pain.
Muzan Kibutsuji could indeed observe and feel certain things through the Demons who had received his blood, but he rarely did so actively. As for those low-level servants trying to transmit their feelings back to him, that was even more impossible.
But this time, it seemed things weren't so simple.
It wasn't a low-level Demon breaking free from his control, but... his own blood instinctively transmitting fear to its source.
Who was it! What did they encounter!
The sky was pitch black; it was impossible for sunlight to appear. But even with sunlight, a Demon burned to death had never transmitted such an emotion to him before.
Muzan closed his eyes, sensing his blood, then opened them in confusion.
"How... not a single idiot got themselves killed tonight?"
--------------------------------------------------
"Why is your regeneration getting slower and slower? Are you tired? Or hungry?"
Suzuki Makoto taunted as he continued to chop the "pork ribs."
"Oh, trying to restore your heart first this time? Tsk tsk, you never learn. You don't really think your heart will last longer than your head against me, do you?"
"Why don't you try growing your head out of your heel? I still remember that time you grew two little arms under your head and tried to run away. It was kinda cute."
Unfortunately, the target of his mockery clearly didn't have the energy to talk back.
No, it's more accurate to say it didn't have the energy to grow its mouth back.
Damn it! Damn it! Who the hell is this guy! How could such an absurd person be born among humans!
To be able to chop a Demon like me—one on the verge of reaching the power level of the Twelve Kizuki—with a kitchen knife so fast that I can't regenerate, and he doesn't even use Breathing Styles or a Nichirin Blade—how can such a person exist!
The Demon raged impotently while regenerating in despair. As expected, any slightly larger chunk of flesh was immediately sliced and minced by the man again.
I can't let this continue! If this goes on, the power in my flesh and blood won't hold out! It's already a struggle to recover now. If he keeps chopping like this, I'll probably become the first Demon in history to be hacked to death with a kitchen knife, unable to regenerate!
But it couldn't control its regeneration—because it's a passive ability.
So, it could only desperately expend its power on regenerating its body, experiencing an endless cycle of agony, and praying in terror that the man would run out of stamina before its own flesh and blood were depleted.
But Suzuki Makoto just smiled, his right hand meticulously dicing the "minced meat"—the kind of fine work that even Lu Zhishen would find no fault with.
Two hours, four hours...
It seemed the sky was about to brighten.
The Demon thought.
It instinctively wanted to smile, but it had long forgotten that it didn't even have a mouth right now.
Finally... release...
When the first ray of sunlight shone down, Suzuki Makoto was surprised to find that the blood covering the ground had begun to turn to ash. Even the "dumpling filling" in front of him had disintegrated into dust.
Does this Demon die when it encounters sunlight?
And it dies in such a low-carbon, environmentally friendly way.
Looking at the kitchen knife, now perfectly clean without a single drop of blood, the man couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.
Only then did he remember that it had been a long time since he'd heard the lady's voice.
He walked back into the house and saw the woman slumped over the corpse, asleep with a tear-streaked face.
"Ma'am, ma'am."
Suzuki Makoto patted the woman. She finally stirred, and upon seeing the corpse before her, realized that this wasn't just a nightmare she'd had.
Tears began to flow unconsciously once more. The woman trembled, but she could no longer make a sound.
"Ma'am, how is your daughter?"
Right! My daughter! My daughter!
The woman frantically opened the small cabinet behind her. Seeing her daughter sleeping soundly inside, she covered her mouth, suppressing her overwhelming emotions.
"Thank goodness..."
When she came back to her senses and wanted to thank the young samurai, she could no longer find him.
Only the kitchen knife, placed beside her husband's hand, and a few old-fashioned gold koban remained.
Suzuki Makoto never borrows a knife without paying.
As for why he left so quickly—it was mainly because he suddenly realized the current scene was rather compromising.
After being exposed to sunlight, that Demon had instantly turned to ash, vanishing without a trace, not even leaving blood behind. Yet, his own body was still covered in large patches of bloodstains.
And the body of the master of the house was still lying on the floor in the room!
If he had delayed any longer and been cornered by others, it would have been impossible to explain himself.
Fortunately, this family lived in a rather remote area with few neighbors. That's why no one else noticed the commotion last night, which also saved Suzuki Makoto some trouble when he left.
So what should I do now?
The man worried as he floated in the waist-deep stream.
The only clothes he could wear now were his undergarments. He still had some gold and silver koban, all looted from the lairs of bandits and robbers. But judging from the electric lights he'd seen earlier, this didn't seem to be the same era as before. He would probably have to find a way to exchange them for the current currency.
As for his blood-stained outer clothes, Suzuki Makoto didn't want to burn them just yet. The blood of this Sukuna Demon still had great uses.
Although carrying it would be troublesome, there was no doubt this blood would attract other Demons. If he could find a way to lure out another one or two, this time he could interrogate them in a secluded place—and naturally obtain more information about this world!
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