Early morning at the Eternal Paradise Faith.
Kotoha knelt on the tatami mat, holding a pellet drum and trying to entertain Inosuke.
But her gaze kept drifting nervously to the corner of the room.
There sat the master of the house—Upper Rank Two, Douma.
He was calmly wiping his golden fans, their razor-sharp surfaces gleaming with a menacing light.
"Kotoha-chan, stop shaking that pellet drum."
Douma didn't even glance up, his voice light and casual.
"Sing 'Pinky Swear' again. I love hearing you sing it, and I think Inosuke does too."
Kotoha's hand froze. A deep blush flooded her face as the drum slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
"Tanuki-san... Tanuki-san..."
She'd gotten the lyrics wrong again...
"Inosuke, come here."
Douma beckoned, calling him like his own flesh and blood.
Inosuke was currently sprawled prone on the tatami, working on his core strength.
He inwardly grumbled about the constant interruptions, but he immediately plastered on a bright smile and crawled over on all fours.
Reaching Douma's feet, he grabbed the demon's trouser leg like a kitten and tried to climb up.
The motion was so practiced it was almost heartbreaking.
Douma smiled and scooped him up with one hand, settling him on his lap.
"Come on, Papa will show you something fun."
Douma flicked his wrist.
*Swish!*
The golden fans snapped open. A razor-sharp gust sliced right in front of Inosuke's face—barely 0.01 centimeters from the tip of his nose.
A few strands of the baby's sparse hair drifted to the ground.
Kotoha clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. Tears sprang to her eyes. This wasn't playing—this was toying with his life!
But Inosuke didn't even flinch.
Thanks to his understanding of Douma, he sensed no real killing intent behind the strike. It was pure showmanship—Douma had perfect control.
"What are you posing for, old geezer?"
"Oh?"
Douma's eyes flickered with interest as he looked at the unfazed baby.
"Not scared? This thing can slice a person's head off like cutting tofu, you know."
Inosuke stared at the fan. Despite its exquisite lotus carvings, it carried a faint metallic scent of blood and a chilling frost.
For someone with the Ice Spirit Constitution, it felt pleasantly cool—like a popsicle on a hot day.
Under Douma's surprised gaze, Inosuke reached out his chubby hand.
He didn't grab the sharp edges—instead, he precisely gripped the handle's end.
"Iya!"
He tugged hard on the fan's tassel.
"You want it?"
Douma released his grip.
The heavy fans immediately weighed down Inosuke's tiny hands.
Any normal baby would have dropped them and hurt their foot, but Inosuke was born strong. He held the fans—larger than his face—firmly with both hands.
Then he did something Douma never expected.
Inosuke mimicked Douma's earlier motion, awkwardly swinging the fan.
The swing was clumsy and wild, but the "I want to cut something" aura was spot-on.
*Whoosh!* The fan carried a faint wind and slapped against Douma's chest.
The hall fell deathly silent. Kotoha held her breath in terror.
Douma looked down at the fan pressed to his chest, then at Inosuke's serious little face—like he was saying, *I can do it too.*
A moment later, Douma erupted into delighted laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!"
"Good!"
"Just like me."
"Just like me..."
He gently took the fans back, closed them, and affectionately patted Inosuke's head. His fondness for the child grew even stronger.
"Did you see that, Kotoha?" Douma pointed at Inosuke, eyes blazing with fanaticism.
"He didn't play with the tassel or bite the ribs. He was copying my movements. He's learning how to wield a weapon."
"How old is he? A few months? And he already has a hunter's instinct?"
Douma lifted Inosuke high and planted a kiss on his soft cheek.
"Wonderful!"
Inosuke rolled his eyes inwardly. *I just wanted to check if the fans were heavy and if they'd sell for cash. Who said anything about learning to kill?*
But seeing how thrilled Douma was...
*Fine. Dad's not right in the head anyway.*
"Let's go."
In high spirits, Douma tucked Inosuke under his arm and stood.
"There's a morning meeting in the Faith today. I'll take you to meet those fools who worship you like a god."
Kotoha scrambled to her feet, reaching for the baby.
"Lord Cult Leader, let me hold him..."
"No need. You should rest, Kotoha-chan. You ran so far last night—you must be exhausted."
"As his father,"
"I should be the one holding him now."
He was still salty about Kotoha trying to flee after seeing him eat people.
Inosuke felt awkward being carried like luggage, but he didn't fuss.
Through the crook of Douma's arm, he looked back at his trembling mother and quietly waved his small hand.
It was like saying: *Mom, don't be scared. I've got this.*
In the Great Hall of the Paradise Faith, hundreds of believers knelt amid swirling incense smoke.
Douma lounged on his lotus throne, casually setting Inosuke on his lap.
"Everyone, I have a few concerns today."
Below the dais, a believer who looked like a wealthy merchant glanced up, trembling.
"The Lord Cult Leader's troubles are our sins! Please instruct us!"
"Oh, it's nothing major."
Douma fanned himself lazily, pointing at Inosuke—who was staring wide-eyed and drooling at the apples on the offering table.
"My child is growing. But how can ordinary, worldly things be worthy of him?"
"He is the Son of God."
The believers instantly understood and began shouting:
"This lowly one has thousand-year-old ginseng at home!"
"I have deep-sea pearl powder!"
"I offer all my family assets to renovate the palace for the Young Lord!"
"I have daughters and sons—let the Young Lord choose a few!"
Inosuke stared in stunned silence at the frenzied crowd.
*Is this what a cult's 'value' looks like? If I converted this to cash, I wouldn't need to become a Hashira—I could be the richest man alive!*
Douma turned to the bright-eyed Inosuke and laughed softly.
"See, Inosuke? This is humanity."
"Weak, foolish, blind."
"Give them a little illusory hope, and they'll hand over everything."
"Have you learned? This game is far more interesting than killing... Universal salvation~"
Inosuke listened to the devil's whisper without batting an eye.
He just knew it would be a waste not to enjoy the good stuff these people were offering.
He reached out, snatched a large apple from the offering table, and slammed it hard onto the floor.
*Crack!*
The crisp sound echoed through the Great Hall.