Chapter 193: Muzan's Passive Skill
While Akira and Kanae were making their final preparations to set off for the hidden Swordsmith Village, a far more sinister gathering was taking place in the shadows.
The Infinity Castle.
Gravity held no meaning in this ever-shifting, impossible labyrinth of wooden platforms and sliding shoji screens. At the very center of this geometric nightmare, Nakime knelt in her usual spot, her slender fingers resting lightly against the strings of her biwa.
Above her, Kibutsuji Muzan looked down from an elevated platform. He currently wore the guise of a pale, sickly young boy, dressed in immaculate aristocratic clothing. Despite the innocent facade, his eyes gave him away—twin pools of piercing, blood-red crimson with vertical, feline slits that radiated pure malice.
Before Nakime had summoned him back to the Infinity Castle, Muzan had been deeply embedded in his latest infiltration. Posing as an adopted child, he had slipped into the household of a prominent family of doctors, carefully scouring their ancient medical texts and family records for any mention of the elusive Blue Spider Lily. He had been in the middle of flipping through a dusty tome when Nakime's telepathic summons echoed in his mind.
Knowing her master's preferences perfectly, Nakime had manipulated the architecture of the Infinity Castle, raising the wooden platform Muzan stood upon just high enough so he could maintain his favorite condescending vantage point.
Because she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, the long, pitch-black hair that usually veiled the upper half of her face slid away. Beneath the dark locks lay a single, massive eye that occupied nearly half of her pale face. The normally cold, mysterious aura she projected twisted into something deeply eerie and feral. Etched clearly into the iris of that giant eye was the kanji for 'Five'.
"Nakime," Muzan's voice was smooth, yet it carried a chilling weight that made the surrounding air feel heavy. "This is the first time you have taken the initiative to summon me. I expect this interruption carries sufficient value."
Though he spoke as if waiting for a verbal report, his blood-red eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't need her to speak; he was already slicing through her mind, effortlessly reading her surface thoughts and sifting through her recent memories.
"I have discovered a highly suspicious location, Master," Nakime replied, her voice a quiet, submissive murmur. Even knowing he was already peering into her mind, she dutifully voiced her report exactly as he demanded. "Judging by the terrain and the localized activity, it may not be the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters itself. However, it is highly probable that it is the hidden village where their Nichirin weapons are forged."
As one of the demons who had survived by Muzan's side the longest, Nakime understood the Demon Lord's volatile temperament better than anyone. It did not matter if his demands were contradictory or illogical; absolute, immediate compliance was the only way to survive. Hesitation meant death. He was the kind of master who would gleefully tear a subordinate limb from limb simply because they stepped into a room with the wrong foot.
To serve Kibutsuji Muzan was to exist in a perpetual, waking nightmare. There was no rest, no reward, and the psychological pressure was absolute. The so-called elite 'Twelve Kizuki' were nothing more than glorified, numbered slaves bound to the whims of a tyrant.
"Even if it is not the headquarters, uncovering the location of the Swordsmith Village is a highly commendable achievement," Muzan stated. The oppressive, suffocating pressure in the room eased slightly, his tone carrying a rare, genuine note of pleasure. "Without their blades, the so-called Demon Slayer Corps is nothing but a pathetic joke."
The strategic value of the Swordsmith Village was nearly on par with the Corps' main headquarters, and its concealment methods were notoriously strict. If Nakime could bypass their security to find the forge, rooting out the headquarters was only a matter of time.
Even though he still hadn't found a single clue regarding the Blue Spider Lily, the sudden opportunity to cripple the Demon Slayer Corps permanently put Muzan in an excellent mood. He never truly considered the demon slayers a genuine threat to his life, but they were a relentless, buzzing swarm of flies that had annoyed him for centuries. Wiping them off the face of the earth would finally grant him some peace and quiet.
He thoroughly approved of Nakime's competence. When compared to a certain Upper Rank Two who spent his days flagrantly slacking off and playing with his cult, Nakime was easily the most reliable and efficient demon under his command.
As for his former number one enforcer, Akaza?
Ever since the martial artist's recent failure, his standing in Muzan's eyes had plummeted into the abyss. If Akaza were present to hear his master's thoughts, he would likely muse bitterly that he never had any real status to begin with—though he would never dare voice such an objection aloud through their blood connection.
For a creature as obsessed with absolute perfection as Muzan, a single failure was enough to permanently stain a subordinate's record. It was the exact same reasoning he had used when he slaughtered the entire roster of the Lower Ranks; their weakness was an insult to his own image.
However, Nakime possessed no direct combat abilities. The mission to slaughter the swordsmiths would have to be delegated to the vanguard.
"Once you have confirmed the specific coordinates, deploy Akaza and Hantengu together," Muzan ordered, his crimson eyes flashing dangerously. "And pass a message to Akaza for me. Tell him this is the absolute last chance I am giving him. If he lets a single human escape that mountain alive, he does not need to bother coming back."
Through the blood network that linked all demons, a faint, pathetic whimper echoed from Hantengu's cowardly core at the sheer lethal intent radiating from their master.
In truth, Muzan was slightly reluctant to execute Akaza just yet. The martial artist remained an exceptionally powerful and obedient weapon; among the Upper Ranks, only Kokushibo and Doma surpassed him in raw lethality. Even the newly elevated Upper Rank Six might eventually surpass Hantengu, but the odds of them catching up to Akaza's martial prowess were slim. Not everyone could experience an explosive surge in power like Doma did after his transformation.
Back when Akaza was still a human, he had slaughtered so many trained swordsmen with his bare hands that even Muzan had briefly assumed the massacre was the work of a rogue demon.
Still, Akaza's usefulness didn't stop Muzan from ruthlessly tightening the leash. Casually inflicting psychological torment upon his subordinates had practically become the Demon Lord's passive skill.
Nakime bowed her head respectfully, her fingers plucking a single, resonant note on her biwa. Biin.
The wooden platforms shifted, and Muzan was instantly teleported back to the quiet study of the doctor's estate.
Riding the high of his rare good mood, Muzan settled back into his chair and resumed flipping through the towering stacks of medical journals and botanical records.
An hour passed. Then two.
Slowly, the pleasant atmosphere in the room curdled into something toxic.
He had carefully scoured every single page of every single book in the estate. The result? Absolutely nothing. The only piece of information he gleaned was a basic botanical description of what the Blue Spider Lily supposedly looked like.
And he didn't need a book for that. The name itself was entirely self-explanatory. It was just a standard red spider lily, but blue.
In other words, he had wasted weeks infiltrating this pathetic human family for absolutely zero gain. Today was yet another day of complete and utter failure.
A vein pulsed violently at Muzan's temple. His pale hands clenched, crumpling the ancient text he was holding.
In a sudden, blinding fit of rage, the 'child' erupted. His arms blurred into vicious, whip-like flesh appendages, shredding the priceless books into a blizzard of confetti. He smashed the heavy oak desk into splinters, tore the sliding doors off their tracks, and practically brought the ceiling down in his tantrum.
Hearing the explosive crash, the adoptive human parents rushed down the hallway and threw open the study doors, their faces etched with panic.
They barely had time to register the monstrous, writhing mass of flesh standing amidst the ruins of their library before Muzan's whips lashed out, cleanly severing their heads from their shoulders. The bodies slumped to the floor, painting the tatami mats crimson.
Incompetent fury, throwing violent tantrums, and slaughtering innocent bystanders whenever he was mildly inconvenienced—these, too, were undoubtedly Kibutsuji Muzan's passive skills.
Blissfully unaware of the bloody tantrum occurring miles away, Akira and Kanae had officially begun their trek toward the Swordsmith Village.
According to the ancient, paranoid regulations of the Demon Slayer Corps, even a Hashira was required to be blindfolded, have their ears plugged with wax, and be carried on the backs of multiple Kakushi in a convoluted, dizzying relay just to reach the village.
However, Akira had long since pointed out the glaring flaw in this logic. If a demon was powerful enough to track a Hashira without being noticed, a handful of low-ranking Kakushi wouldn't be able to shake them off anyway., if a tragedy like the betrayal of Tsugikuni Michikatsu ever repeated itself and a Hashira willingly became a demon, the first place to suffer would be the main headquarters, not the forge.
Because of this, Akira had shattered the protocol entirely when he previously bypassed the relay to rush Shinobu to the village to treat Haganezuka's severe injuries. Seeing the practicality of Akira's argument, Kagaya Ubuyashiki had officially abolished the blindfold rule for the Hashira.
Of course, ordinary Corps members still had to endure the grueling, sensory-deprived relay. After all, the two most critical lifelines of the Demon Slayer Corps were the Butterfly Mansion, which kept them alive, and the Swordsmith Village, which gave them the fangs needed to fight back.
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