Oboro's movements were unpredictable and mysterious.
Muzan had ordered Kokushibo, Doma, and Akaza to search for him. The best way to do so, he reasoned, was to first locate Gyutaro.
He could sense that Gyutaro, as one of the inheritors, was something of an "exception."
Especially since he wore the distinctive black haori that was Oboro's trademark. Moreover, over all these years—from the end of the Edo period until now—Gyutaro was the only inheritor to have successfully killed an Upper Rank: Gyokko.
Muzan dared not confront the Demon Slayer Corps directly.
Even before Gyokko's death, several Upper Ranks had already been slain by the Hashira. Currently, several Hashira had awakened the Transparent World, possessing abilities rivaling those of Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
Furthermore, the environment and society had turned overwhelmingly hostile toward demons. Because of this, Muzan's forces remained hidden, and when they did act, they dared not make too great a noise.
In contrast, the inheritors were clashing fiercely with the Demon Slayer Corps. The main reason was that Muzan had always been wary of letting the number of demons grow too large, whereas the inheritors were fearless in organizing themselves into groups and expanding their influence constantly.
Having grasped the rudiments of soul power, Muzan slowly began to unravel the mysteries surrounding Oboro.
He finally understood why these inheritors had developed such immense power and displayed such extraordinary talent in just a single century.
Through the reinforcement and amplification provided by soul power, their spirits were greatly strengthened. While this change might not always be visible physically, it made their Blood Demon Arts incredibly powerful.
This superior willpower also gave inheritors greater resilience in the face of hardship, significantly increasing their chances of overcoming seemingly impossible situations.
Muzan had not understood this before—but now he did.
The three Upper Ranks whom he had modified would also see the potency of their individual Blood Demon Arts increased dramatically.
However, this method of infusing fragments of his own spirit into his cells and transmitting them to his subordinates caused a certain degree of damage to his own soul, requiring time for recovery.
Still, Muzan had already thought of a solution: hunt down more inheritors. Through the cells within their bodies, he could repeatedly come into contact with the remnants of Oboro's will deep within their consciousness.
In doing so, he would polish, refine, and strengthen his own soul… and eventually—devour Oboro's soul entirely.
---
Meanwhile, one month later…
Oboro sat alone in the shade of a tree in the wilderness, admiring the scenery before him.
A gentle breeze blew through his white hair, which had not been cut or tended to in a long time.
"Not bad… you haven't disappointed me."
He seemed to sense something. His eyes opened and closed as he gazed toward the distant horizon.
A soft smile appeared on his face.
It seemed Muzan had finally achieved a genuine evolution.
From the very beginning, Oboro's assessment of Muzan had been this: he possessed immense physical power, but his soul was extremely weak.
Yet, contrary to expectations, given such natural limitations, Muzan had actually managed to perceive and connect with the soul. This truly surprised Oboro.
"There is a definite link between the soul and the physical body. Even with a naturally weak soul, possessing such a powerful physique and living for such an incredibly long time… using the body's physical strength to gradually drive and awaken the spirit is actually quite logical. But you must have worked very hard, thinking and researching this obsessively for a very long time…"
Oboro dusted off his clothes and stood up slowly.
Every time Muzan made contact with his soul, Oboro felt it clearly.
Soul power was a force originating from a higher world; to a lower‑order world, it represented a vast and profound body of knowledge… Right now, Muzan was equivalent to someone who had just begun his "enlightenment." What he understood and knew was still far too little.
Just moments ago, one of the direct inheritors whom Oboro had transformed personally had died. Without a doubt, Muzan was responsible.
The direct inheritors still alive today possessed strength equal or superior to that of the Hashira. Over the years, by devouring members of the Twelve Kizuki and even some Hashira from previous generations, the sheer physical power they had accumulated was terrifying. Individually, they might already be more than a match for any single Upper Rank.
"The time limit is approaching. If you didn't come looking for me, I would have gone to find you anyway."
Oboro looked up at the blue sky and spoke calmly.
His own vitality was fading rapidly… his physical body could sustain itself for perhaps another ten years at most.
Over the past century, he had continuously distributed the cards stored in his inventory to individuals who showed potential. Besides further stirring up chaos and conflict, his hope was that among these "seeds," one or two might "awaken," showing signs of true evolution.
After all, with enough quantity, the probability of success naturally increased.
When his stock of cards ran low, he simply converted more… repeating the cycle endlessly.
Now, the cards remaining in his possession were almost exhausted.
And he was preparing to bring this phase to an end.
---
Within a fortress inside a moderately‑sized city…
Muzan appeared dressed in Western‑style clothing—a long black formal coat—wearing a hat as he walked slowly toward a tall building ahead.
This place served as the headquarters of the rebel army, and also the central territory of one of the inheritors.
Looking like a nobleman of high society of the current era, Muzan's red eyes gleamed from beneath the brim of his hat. He walked with leisurely steps and an elegant demeanor.
All around him, rebel warriors charged forward with swords drawn, shouting battle cries.
There were also demons among them—their appearances clearly inhuman—darting like flashes of black lightning as they converged to surround and attack him.
Muzan continued walking as if nothing was happening, making no movement to defend himself. Yet every demon harboring hostility toward him, while still rushing toward him and before they could even get close, exploded bizarrely into shreds of flesh.
As for the humans, they simply lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground.
It seemed that upon entering a certain radius around Muzan, every living thing—human or demon—was subjected to the assault of an invisible force.
Humans and demons coexisting side by side… such a strange phenomenon only occurred in the rebel territories controlled by inheritors.
As Muzan advanced, the roads on both sides were lined with corpses and bathed in blood.
He revelled in this wonderful sensation… The power of the soul had made him incomparably strong.
And far more transcendent.
BOOM!
Suddenly, just as Muzan stopped in the open area before the main building, a dark figure descended from the sky.
Like a meteor crashing into the earth, it kicked up a cloud of dust, shaking the ground violently with a thunderous impact.
When the dust settled, the newcomer's appearance was revealed.
She was the leader of this rebel army—and also one of the inheritors.
A woman with long orange hair and dark skin. Her figure was large, heavy, and seemingly obese, yet radiated immense physical power.
Her features were somewhat coarse and unattractive.
She wore an ornate traditional kimono with a large decorative pattern, tied with an elaborate drum‑knot sash. Her clothing, at least, was exquisite.
"You… are Muzan?"
Her name was Ayameko. Years ago, she had been one of those "saved" and transformed by Oboro.
Born with features society deemed ugly, she had been despised and rejected since childhood. Even her own parents considered her a disgrace to the family and had once tried to kill her while she slept.
Ayameko had fought Doma, Upper Rank Two, long ago. Their battle had been interrupted by the arrival of the Demon Slayer Corps, leaving their contest undecided.
Over the years, she had devoured many Lower Ranks… she was very familiar with Muzan's faction and their capabilities.
The overwhelming aura radiating from the newcomer, combined with the instinctive dread rising in her heart, confirmed it.
It could be none other than Kibutsuji Muzan.
Most inheritors operated independently. Though they all shared the same fundamental will, their methods and philosophies differed greatly, making it difficult for them to unite.
There were occasional alliances, but they were rare.
Recently, Ayameko had heard disturbing rumors: numerous factions belonging to inheritors had suffered devastating attacks… leaving no survivors.
Looking at the situation now, it was clear Muzan was behind it all.
"So, you finally decided to show yourself?"
Realization dawned. Suddenly, Ayameko revealed a ferocious, challenging grin toward Muzan.
She was no ordinary inheritor. Through the process of demons devouring demons, she had evolved her existence to a completely new level.
As the progenitor of all demons, Muzan had long been the target many inheritors wished to find. Their goal was simple: devour Muzan. Naturally, Ayameko harbored the very same ambition.
The problem had always been that Muzan hid constantly in the shadows and dared not appear.
In the minds of many inheritors, consuming Muzan was the key—the crucial step that would likely grant them the power to reshape the world.
He was the most important piece of the puzzle!
"Oh? It seems you find me very interesting?"
Muzan looked at the woman's defiant gaze. Instead of becoming angry—a rarity for him—he simply smiled softly.
Suddenly, Ayameko stripped off her upper garment, revealing intricate tattoo‑like markings covering half her body, extending across her chest and arms.
Underneath her long sleeves, her arms were similarly covered in patterns.
At first glance, her massive frame appeared soft and fat. But now, seeing her without clothes, Muzan realized that what looked like flesh was actually rock‑hard, densely knotted muscle.
Her long hair fluttered like the mane of a lion. The patterns tattooed across her skin seemed to instantly come alive, extending rapidly from her body, spreading across the ground beneath her feet and expanding outward at incredible speed.
This was clearly her Blood Demon Art.
"I have countless subordinates. It doesn't matter if they die; given enough time, I can always rise up and seize power again… But now that an honored guest has come all this way, I cannot let you run away… Otherwise, I might never get another chance to meet you like this."
Ayameko declared, her voice brimming with fighting spirit and excitement.
"For being one of that man's 'toys,' you are actually quite impressive."
Muzan praised her, though his tone was light and dismissive. When he mentioned the "man," there was a distinct trace of contempt in his voice.
Toys?
Ayameko narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"I am talking about… Oboro."
Muzan stated bluntly.
The moment his name was spoken, Ayameko's rage erupted.
To her, Oboro was a sacred existence deep in her heart—a forbidden zone that no one was allowed to touch or insult.
"The expressions on your faces… all of you look exactly the same… simply because I mentioned his name."
Muzan spread his arms wide. "He hides behind the scenes, manipulating everything, yet he is quite irresponsible…
He simply gave you power, let you grow wildly and recklessly, but never taught you the most important lesson: when facing true, overwhelming power, one must maintain proper humility."
"Otherwise… you will die."
____________________
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