The biwa's note faded away.
The nauseating spatial distortion vanished, replaced by the familiar chill and faint incense scent of the Eternal Paradise Faith's back mountain.
Doma landed lightly, still carrying Inosuke on his shoulders.
"Whew!"
Doma patted his chest with an exaggerated expression of lingering fear.
"Oh my, you really scared Daddy just now, Inosuke. You were way too honest in front of Lord Muzan."
He glanced at the boy perched on his shoulders, satisfaction flickering in his ever-present smile.
"But since Lord Muzan said to keep you, that means you can't just stay a cute little mascot anymore, okay?"
Doma reached out and poked the spot between Inosuke's eyebrows.
"You have to get strong—strong enough to deserve receiving that Lord's blood, or at least strong enough to put up a little struggle when you die. It'll add some entertainment for everyone."
"Daddy can't bear to lose you."
"Mommy can't bear to lose you either."
"So you have to become strong, got it~?"
Inosuke blinked his large eyes, looking perfectly obedient.
"Got it, Dad. I'll eat well and grow up big and strong!"
Doma smiled, satisfied.
"Good boy."
...Time slipped by like a shadow.
Seasons came and went, and five quiet years passed within the Paradise Faith.
Inosuke was now seven years old.
In those five years, his pre-transmigration memories had completely faded.
All that remained was the original story's plot, burned indelibly into his mind.
His personality had grown increasingly arrogant and sharp-tongued, yet a hidden gentleness lingered deep inside.
Doma's casual disregard for life and Kotoha's gentle nurturing constantly clashed in his thoughts.
He knew right from wrong, but he simply didn't care.
The two opposing influences had left him with one clear conviction:
He wanted whatever benefited him. Strength, money—if it was good, he wanted it all.
The baby fat had melted away; his frame had begun to stretch and fill out.
Though his face still carried Kotoha's breathtaking beauty—like an exquisite porcelain doll—if anyone lifted his loose cult robes...
...they'd see a small body covered in lean, powerful muscle.
This was the result of years of grueling training. The path he'd chosen wasn't as easy as he'd first imagined.
He had to protect his first mother in this den of demons.
...Back mountain, by the lotus pond.
"In... hale."
"Ex... hale."
Long, controlled breaths echoed through the silent courtyard.
This was the qualitative leap from his enhanced lung capacity: each inhale drew in maximum oxygen, pushing his body into an explosive state akin to Total Concentration Breathing: Constant.
"Come, Inosuke."
Doma stood casually on the water's surface, waving his golden fans.
"Today I'll teach you this one: Blood Demon Art: Wintry Icicles."
He flicked his wrist lightly.
*Swish! Swish! Swish!*
Several fan-shaped mists swept toward Inosuke from every angle, carrying a poisonous cold that could freeze a human body instantly.
This wasn't teaching—it was attempted murder.
Any ordinary human—even a seven-year-old martial arts prodigy—would have become an ice statue facing Upper Rank Two's Blood Demon Art.
But Inosuke didn't dodge. He didn't even look.
He closed his eyes.
In that instant, the world shifted in his perception.
This wasn't a System reward; it was an innate talent of Hashibira Inosuke's body.
Extraordinary tactile sense.
His skin was hypersensitive, letting him feel air currents, tiny temperature shifts, and the exact direction of killing intent.
*It's coming.*
Three currents on the left, five on the right, and the heaviest frost pressing down from above!
The air brushing his skin acted like precise radar.
Inosuke moved.
He dropped his center of gravity low, body nearly hugging the ground.
His System-enhanced calf muscles exploded with power, turning him into a blur.
With near-impossible joint flexibility, he slid through the dense ice mist's gaps!
"Oh?!"
Doma's eyes lit up.
"Not only is your sense of touch sharp, but your speed has improved this much?"
"Old geezer, it's not over yet!"
Inosuke sneered inwardly.
He had no Nichirin blade, but he did have the pair of fans Doma had given him.
In this ice-filled environment, his original Beast Breathing wasn't ideal.
What he planned to use was the style he'd painstakingly developed over five years—by enduring Doma's daily "beatings" and leeching off his cold air with the Ice Spirit Constitution!
"Total Concentration: Ice Breathing!"
Inosuke inhaled sharply. The cold air Doma had released was drawn straight into his lungs.
Normal lungs would rot from it, but his Ice Spirit Constitution treated the chill like medicine.
"First Form!"
Inosuke kicked off the ground, phantom-like, charging into the ice mist.
He swung the fans wildly—not to block, but to redirect.
"Ice Breathing, First Form: Windmill Fan!"
*Whoosh—*
*Boom!*
The fans spun at high speed, creating a small tornado of gale force.
A miraculous thing happened.
Doma's lethal ice crystals were sucked into Inosuke's wind pressure.
The Blood Demon Art aimed at him was forcibly turned around!
"Take it back!"
Inosuke shouted, thrusting the storm—now carrying Doma's own cold—straight back at him!
Doma stood his ground. His rainbow eyes widened slightly as the ice mist swirled toward him.
"Oh my?"
He raised a fan and lightly blocked it, dispersing the mist.
But he wasn't angry. Instead, he looked like he'd witnessed a miracle.
"Inosuke..."
Doma stared at the panting but unharmed boy.
"You're clearly human and don't have a Blood Demon Art—how can you manipulate my ice?"
Inosuke wiped sweat from his forehead and flashed an arrogant grin, showing two cute little fangs.
"Because I'm a genius, Dad."
"Since I don't have ice of my own, I'll just steal yours. Simple, right?"
This was Inosuke's self-created Ice Breathing.
Doma stared at him for a long moment before bursting into delighted laughter. He pulled the sweat-soaked Inosuke into a tight hug.
"Fantastic! Fantastic! Fantastic!"
"As expected of my son! That logic is exactly the same as the tenets of the Eternal Paradise Faith!"
"Stealing others' pain and turning it into your own joy—Inosuke, you're truly born to be the next Cult Leader!"
Inosuke rolled his eyes in Doma's embrace.
*Successor my ass.*
*I'm doing this so that if you ever lose it and try to destroy this home...*
*I can beat some sense into you. By then, your Blood Demon Art will be useless against me, and you'll have to listen.*
**[Ding! Detected that the host has successfully combined innate talent and System rewards to create the prototype of a new Breathing Style.]**
**[Style Determination: Ice Breathing]**
**[System Reward: No material reward.]**
**[Evaluation: Noob. You're on the right track; keep practicing. If you want to kill an Upper Rank, this is just the beginning.]**
No new cheats, no new skills.
Just a blunt nudge to keep going.
Looking at the System panel, Inosuke grinned instead.
*That's more like it.*
*Real powerhouses are built through effort—and by stealing from others.*
"Dad!"
Inosuke pushed Doma away and waved his fans.
"Again!"
"I haven't mastered that move yet. Do the Wintry Icicles thing again! This time, I'm stealing your ice lotuses too!"
"Alright~"
Doma was in an excellent mood.
"This time, Daddy will be just a little bit more serious."