The sound of the biwa faded away.
That nauseating, twisted space vanished, and the familiar atmosphere of the back mountains of the Eternal Paradise Faith rushed back toward them.
Doma landed steadily with Inosuke.
"Phew!"
Doma patted his chest, wearing an exaggerated expression that carried a hint of lingering fear.
"Aiya~ that really scared Daddy to death. Inosuke, you were far too honest in front of Lord Muzan just now."
Looking at Inosuke still perched on his shoulders, the smile in his eyes gained a trace of satisfaction.
"But since Lord Muzan said to keep you, that means you can't just be an adorable mascot anymore."
Doma extended a finger and poked Inosuke between the brows.
"You have to become strong. Strong enough to be worthy of receiving that great lord's blood—or at least strong enough to struggle a little when you die, to make things more entertaining for the audience.
"Daddy would hate to lose you.
Mommy would hate it too.
"So you must become strong, okay~?"
Inosuke blinked his big eyes, looking utterly obedient.
"Got it, Dad! I'll eat well and grow up big and strong!"
Doma smiled in satisfaction.
"Such a good boy."
...
Time flowed on, swift as a galloping horse.
Spring passed into autumn. Five quiet years slipped by within the Eternal Paradise Faith.
Inosuke was now seven years old.
Over those five years, his memories from before transmigrating had completely faded away.
All that remained, deeply etched into his mind, was the original plot.
His personality had grown increasingly arrogant and sharp-tongued—yet hidden deep beneath it was a streak of gentleness.
Doma's disregard for life and Kotoha's tender guidance stood in constant opposition within his heart.
He knew right from wrong.
He just didn't care.
The fusion of these two methods of upbringing taught Inosuke one single truth:
He only wanted what benefited him.
He wanted strength. He wanted money. He wanted all good things—everything worth taking.
By now, the baby fat had faded from his body, replaced by the lean stretch of growth.
His face still inherited Kotoha's astonishing beauty, like a finely crafted porcelain doll—but lift his loose training robes, and one would see a body packed with dense, honed muscle.
This was the result of years of brutal training.
The path he had chosen was anything but easy.
After all, he had to protect the first mother of his life—inside this demon's lair.
...
Back mountain, beside the lotus pond.
"Huuu—inhale…"
"Huuu—exhale…"
Long, steady breathing echoed through the quiet courtyard.
This was the qualitative change brought about by lung capacity enhancement. Every breath Inosuke took maximized oxygen intake, pushing his body into a state akin to Total Concentration: Constant.
"Come on, Inosuke."
Doma stood atop the water's surface, lazily fanning himself with the golden fan.
"Today, I'll teach you this move—Blood Demon Art: Wintry Garden, Drooping Snow."
Doma flicked his wrist lightly.
Shua! Shua! Shua!
Several fan-shaped mists, carrying deadly poisonous cold capable of freezing a human solid in an instant, surged toward Inosuke like a tidal wave.
This wasn't teaching.
This was attempted murder.
If it were any ordinary human—no matter how gifted a seven-year-old martial prodigy—facing the Blood Demon Art of Upper Rank Two would mean only one outcome: becoming an ice sculpture.
But Inosuke neither dodged nor even looked.
He closed his eyes.
In that instant, the world around him changed.
This wasn't a system reward.
It was an innate talent of Hashibira Inosuke's body itself—
Hyper-sensitive touch.
His skin was extraordinarily sensitive, capable of clearly sensing air currents, minute temperature changes, and the direction of killing intent.
Here it comes.
Three streams of air from the left.
Five from the right.
The main attack—carrying the heaviest cold—was pressing down from above!
The sensation of air brushing his skin was like a perfectly precise radar.
Inosuke moved.
He dropped his center of gravity sharply, his body nearly skimming the ground.
Muscles in his system-enhanced legs exploded with power, and his entire form turned into a streak of afterimage—
Slipping through the dense gaps in the icy mist at an angle that nearly defied human joint structure!
"Oh?"
Doma's eyes lit up.
"Not just sharper touch—your speed's increased this much too?"
Old geezer, I'm not done yet,
Inosuke sneered inwardly.
He didn't have a Nichirin Blade—but he did have the pair of fans Doma had given him.
In an environment saturated with ice, the original Beast Breathing wasn't well suited.
What he needed was the style he had forged over the past five years—
By abusing his Ice Spirit Physique, constantly leeching Doma's cold, and constantly getting beaten by him—
A technique honed the hard way.
"Total Concentration—Ice Breathing!"
Inosuke inhaled sharply. The freezing air released by Doma was actually sucked into his body.
To ordinary people, this cold would cause lung necrosis—but to him, it felt like a nourishing tonic.
"First Form!"
He kicked off the ground, his body ghosting into the icy mist.
The fans in his hands whipped wildly—not to block, but to guide.
"Ice Breathing — First Form: Windmill Fans!"
Boom!
The twin fans spun at high speed, the resulting gale forming a miniature tornado.
Then—something miraculous happened.
The deadly ice crystals Doma had released were swept up into Inosuke's wind pressure.
The Blood Demon Art meant to kill him was forcibly redirected!
"Take it back!"
Inosuke roared, violently hurling the storm—now laced with Doma's own cold—straight back at him!
Doma stood in place, watching the reversed ice mist roll toward him. His rainbow-colored eyes widened slightly.
"Aiya?"
He raised his fan and lightly blocked.
The ice mist dissipated.
He wasn't angry—instead, he looked as if he'd witnessed an unbelievable miracle.
"Inosuke…"
Doma stared at the panting yet completely unharmed boy.
"You're clearly human, without any Blood Demon Art—so why can you control my ice?"
Inosuke wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed an arrogant grin, showing off his two adorable little tiger teeth.
"Because I'm a genius, Dad."
"If I don't have ice, I'll just steal yours and use it. Easy, right?"
This was Inosuke's self-created style—
Ice Breathing.
Doma stared at him for a long time—then suddenly burst into delighted laughter and scooped the sweat-soaked Inosuke into his arms.
"Amazing! Amazing! Amazing!"
"Just as expected of my son! This kind of logic is exactly the same as the doctrine of the Eternal Paradise Faith!"
"Seize others' suffering and turn it into your own joy—Inosuke, you were born to inherit the cult!"
Inosuke rolled his eyes inside Doma's embrace.
Inherit my ass.
This is for the day you snap and decide to destroy this family—
So I can beat some sense into you.
When that happens, your Blood Demon Art won't work on me anymore—and you'll have no choice but to listen.
[Ding! Detected: Host has successfully combined innate talent and system rewards to create a prototype of a new Breathing Style.]
[Style Determined: Ice Breathing]
[System Reward: None.]
[Evaluation: Weakling. Path is correct—keep training. Want to kill an Upper Rank? You're nowhere near ready.]
No new cheat.
No new skill.
Just a cold, merciless keep training.
Inosuke stared at the system panel—then grinned.
That's more like it.
True strength was never handed out.
It was forged by yourself—
and by stealing other people's advantages.
"Dad!"
Inosuke shoved Doma away and waved his fans.
"Again!"
"I haven't mastered that move yet—use that Drooping Snow thing again! This time I'm stealing your ice lotus too!"
"Alright~"
Doma was in high spirits.
"This time, Daddy will be just a little more serious."