Kimura felt like he was having the worst luck of his life today.
He was originally just an ordinary woodcutter making a living in town.
A few months ago, he stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have seen in the forest—a Demon feasting on a hunter’s corpse.
Terror gripped him.
He turned to run but tripped and fell.
The Demon caught up, and after intense pain, all that remained was the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth and an endless, gnawing hunger.
He had become a Demon.
As a newborn Demon, the remnants of his humanity made him feel disgusted and afraid of eating people.
But after enduring the hunger burning in his guts for so long, it finally overwhelmed everything.
He attacked a lone Traveler.
The satisfaction of a full meal temporarily drove away his guilt, but it was quickly replaced by even deeper emptiness and a fiercer appetite.
From the being that turned him into a Demon, he learned of the existence of the Demon Slayer Corps—those people who wielded special swords and wore black uniforms.
He carefully hid himself, only preying on the weakest targets.
But tonight, his luck ran out.
He had just grabbed a drunken Gambler and taken a few bites when three figures in black uniforms, swords in hand, silently surrounded him like hyenas drawn by the scent of blood.
The outcome of the battle was never in doubt—at least for Kimura.
If there had been only one or two, he could have dragged them down.
He had strength and immortality but no idea how to use them.
The three swordsmen fought in perfect coordination.
Their slashing techniques were fierce, each strike infused with skills meant to target beings like him.
He only had two hands.
Every time he managed to leave a wound on one of them, a third blade aiming for his neck forced him back.
He had considered relying on his Regeneration to tank a few strikes and turn the tide by taking out one of the swordsmen, but the blades wrapped in flame-like power burned into his flesh, pain lancing into his bones.
The agony drove him mad.
Howling, both hands flailing in Beast Fist, he forced the swordsmen back, relying on that damned Regeneration to hold himself together.
All he remembered was protecting his neck!
Protect your neck!
The Leader swordsman managed to graze his neck several times, the blade bringing with it a chilling breath of Death.
In the end, he seized a chance.
He endured crosswise slashes from two swords on his back, forcing an opening and plunged into the darkness of the forest without looking back.
He could hear frustrated clicks and hurried footsteps behind him, but he didn’t dare turn around.
He just ran, limbs on the ground, scrambling through the forest like a wild beast.
He didn’t know how far he’d run.
The sounds of pursuit gradually faded.
Kimura collapsed in a dark hollow formed by rotten tree roots, gasping for breath.
The wounds on his body itched and throbbed as they slowly closed, but the drain on his strength only deepened his hunger and weakness.
“Hide…must hide…”
A shred of reason whispered to him.
“Wait until they think I’ve run far enough… Can’t hunt anymore. It’s too dangerous…”
He curled up, trying to blend completely into the shadows and the scent of rotting leaves.
The fear of Death made him tremble.
He didn’t know how much time passed.
In the midst of that suffocating silence, an indescribable aroma drifted in like invisible fingers, plucking the deepest, most primal string in his mind.
What is that smell?
Fresh, rich, carrying an irresistible pull of life, as if condensed from the purest, most nourishing essence in existence.
Completely different from the coarse blood and flesh he’d consumed before, this scent acted directly on his Soul, awakening the core hunger of a Demon—a chase for higher energy and more perfect flesh.
Kimura’s murky red eyes snapped open.
It was as if the essence of life itself had condensed into perfect nectar that all living things yearned to evolve toward.
Just a wisp of it made every cell in his body scream, shout, and boil!
The blood and flesh he’d eaten before now seemed filthy and repulsive, like worthless dregs.
Rationality?
Caution?
Demon Slayers?
All thrown to the wind.
Now, only one raw, violent thought filled his mind—
Find it!
Eat it!
Obtain it!
“So…so fragrant…A taste I’ve never known!”
A hoarse, guttural sound escaped his throat, drool dripping uncontrollably from his cracked lips.
He smashed through the tree hollow, dropped to all fours, and crawled like a true beast toward the irresistible source of temptation.
His wounds tore open as he moved, but Regeneration sealed them again.
His vitality burned hotter than ever, all for that ultimate meal!
He crashed through the last thicket.
In the moonlight stood a figure clad in strange clothing, posture tall, short platinum hair shimmering with an odd luster.
That’s it! The source of the scent!
“Eat! Eat you!!”
Kimura’s every thought twisted into a roar as he launched himself, filthy blood and stench trailing like a rotten cannonball, straight at the overwhelmingly enticing figure!
Ishikanfeng watched the creature lunge at him with a twisted posture, brow slightly raised.
The stench was overwhelming, but what drew his attention more was the creature’s madness—far beyond ordinary hunger.
“Oh? So enthusiastic?”
He spoke lightly, a hint of mockery in his tone, as if the thing flying at him wasn’t a man-eating Demon, but a moth to a flame.
“Are people these days all so lacking in manners? Jumping straight at someone without even saying hello?”
As he spoke, his body was already in motion.
Having loaded the young Qingyuan template, his neural reaction speed and muscle coordination far surpassed before.
To his eyes, the Demon’s charge was fast, but the trajectory was clear—eager and clumsy.
He twisted his foot, shifting half a step to the side and back.
The Demon’s bloody claws scraped past his clothes and missed.
Stumbling from its own momentum, the Demon’s twisted wounds wriggled as they tried to heal.
“Hm?”
Seeing the wounds on the Demon’s back, Ishikanfeng’s thoughts whirled.
This Demon’s response was strange.
Demons usually Regenerated quickly from normal injuries, but these wounds screamed of a run-in with the Demon Slayer Corps—likely one it hadn’t survived.
Yet it didn’t flee, and rushed him instead?
In , a Demon’s instinct for survival far exceeded hunger, and even the allure of rare blood shouldn’t drive such madness.
This guy was as crazed as a Famine who hadn’t eaten in three years encountering a Full Banquet of Man and Han—rationality evaporated, leaving only pure predatory instinct.
Then realization struck.
Of course.
It was this body.
Qingyuan—a true Xianzhou, one of the top Blessings of the Star God of Abundance.
For a Demon, whose existence paralleled that of Aberrant Spawn—beings who evolved by devouring others and walked a similar twisted path—such a life-form was an ultimate temptation.
Many Demonic traits—immortality, regeneration, insatiable hunger and twisted desire—were just like the Fengrao People of Star Rail, even the system recognized them as Aberrant Spawn.
And what did those crazed Fengrao People crave most?
The Blessings pursued by Aberrant Spawn under the Pharmacist, which brought immortal miracles.
To these eyes, wasn’t he now a walking, incomparably tempting, humanoid Aqua Flower?
A plan formed instantly in his mind.
If his guess was right—
He wouldn’t need to hunt down the Twelve String Moons or Muzan.
He could let the Demons come to him.
He would use himself as bait.
“If that’s so…then fishing enforcement—no, patrol hunting would be much more efficient, wouldn’t it?”
His thoughts raced.
“But with only a few samples, more testing is needed.”
As his mind spun, the Demon roared and lunged again.
He had to admit, after turning into a Demon, its speed and strength far surpassed ordinary humans, claws sweeping with a shrill wind.
But to Ishikanfeng, the attack was riddled with flaws.
“Speed is decent, strength passable, but there’s no technique—pure instinct.”
He calmly assessed, as if judging an unqualified weapon.
This time, he didn’t dodge.
His right hand gripped the hilt of at his waist.
With a flick of his thumb, the blade rang out and slid from its Scabbard.
Facing the lunging Demon, he sank his stance, left foot forward, right hand holding the Sword at his side.
The Demon’s claws slashed down, strong enough to tear rock.
Ishikanfeng’s wrist flicked.
The Zanpakuto flashed like silver light.
“Shrrrk!”
The blade neatly severed the Demon’s wrist.
The filthy claw flew off, trailing black blood.
“Raargh!!”
The Demon howled in pain, the stump writhing as it tried to Regenerate.
But Ishikanfeng’s attack flowed seamlessly.
The sword that had cut the wrist swung back.
He pivoted on his feet, moving to the Demon’s side.
“Stand still.”
The blade flashed again!
This time—both legs.
The sharp Zanpakuto sliced through the Demon’s knees like rotten wood.
The Demon screamed and collapsed, left with only one arm and twitching, Regenerating limbs, its cries turning into garbled, greedy, pained wails.
“Eat…Eat you!”
Even now, it tried to grab him with its remaining hand.
“Pathetic.”
Ishikanfeng looked down at the writhing, obsession-driven creature and shook his head.
He didn’t hesitate any longer.
He stepped forward, Zanpakuto at the Demon’s neck, and brought it down without mercy.
The blade passed through.
A hideous head rolled free from the body, its face still twisted in desperate hunger and madness.
The head tumbled to the ground.
The headless body convulsed, the stump of the neck bubbling and writhing as it tried to reconnect.
Ishikanfeng stood calmly, Sword in hand.
He watched.
He wanted to see whether the Zanpakuto, not a Nichirin Blade, could end this kind of immortality.
Within seconds, the Regenerating flesh seemed to lose something vital.
It shriveled, grayed, and turned to ash.
The head and body disintegrated, like burning paper, until nothing remained but tattered clothes and a heavy stench in the air.
[Obtained Silver Coin ×1]
He suddenly found himself missing Goblins.
Demons and Goblins were so different, yet the rewards were nearly the same.
At least Goblins came with a Nest extermination bonus, while Demons were solitary—the only chance for extra reward was probably with Lower Moon Five.
Day one of missing the Goblin God.
Still, as a test target, this Demon had its uses.
“As expected, even a Shallow Hit retains the Zanpakuto’s soul-targeting trait.”
He murmured.
“For creatures like Demons, who exist through Soul Obsession and bodily mutation, it seems even more effective than a Nichirin Blade?”
This world had Souls.
constantly hinted at it.
When he cut off limbs earlier, the Demon still tried to Regenerate—maybe because he hadn’t struck the soul’s key point.
But the neck, even without a Nichirin Blade, worked.
For beings held together by abnormal power, mere physical damage meant little.
But soul-level slashing still worked.
Just then, hurried footsteps and tense breathing sounded from behind.
“Over there!”
“There was fighting!”
“And the smell of blood…Careful!”
Three figures burst through the trees into Ishikanfeng’s view.
They were Demon Slayer Corps members, all injured and panting, clearly having pursued all the way here.
The Leader’s face still bled from claw marks.
They saw the scene instantly—the strange man standing, the Demon’s discarded clothing at his feet.
Their movements froze, shock on their faces.
Their eyes flicked between him and the clothes on the ground.
They could see clearly—the Sword in his hand wasn’t a Nichirin Blade.
Just a plain, old-fashioned long Sword.
Not a Nichirin Blade—how could he have killed a Demon?
After shock came wariness.
All three gripped their Nichirin Blades tightly, taking defensive stances.
The young man before them was unnaturally beautiful, his whole being radiating something strange.
Ishikanfeng turned, a gentle smile appearing naturally on his face.
He spoke first, breaking the tense silence.
“Good evening, all three of you. No need to be so tense.”
He pointed at the corpse.
“Is this Aberrant Spawn that was attacking people your target?”
“Aberrant Spawn?”
The wounded young member repeated the unfamiliar term, confusion overflowing in his gaze.
He glanced at his equally lost companions, then back at Ishikanfeng.
“You mean…Demon?”
“Demon?”
Ishikanfeng tilted his head just so, showing a hint of thought, as if matching the term to something in his own understanding.
“So, in this place, you call such fallen beings that devour their kin ‘Demons’?”
He used a description closer to Aberrant Spawn.
The members listened, dazed.
Though some words were unclear, the part about eating one’s own kind was spot on.
“Y-Yes! They’re man-eating Demons!”
The young member nodded forcefully, then quickly asked, “You’re not from the Demon Slayer Corps? Who are you? How did you kill it? Your Sword isn’t even—”
Ishikanfeng smiled, raising a hand in a calming gesture.
He had long since prepared his explanation.
“I’m just a wandering sea patrol ranger.”
His voice was gentle and magnetic, carrying a power that made one want to trust him.
“As for my name, you can call me Qingyuan.”
He had no intention of changing his earlier plan.
Having used General Qingyuan’s template, he borrowed the name as a new nickname for a new game.
“As for how I slayed the Demon, if you lack the means to eliminate Aberrant Spawn, why pursue them at all?”
He stroked the Zanpakuto.
He wondered when his Sword spirit would finally speak with him.
Though it had special effects against Demons, who didn’t want to be stronger?
If he ever struck gold and his Shikai matched Old Man Yamamoto’s, he’d use the Blue Spider Lily to lure Muzan, then F2A him and let him taste the Sun at Night.
“Sea…patrol ranger?”
The three looked at each other, never having heard such a title.
“Yes, patrolling the world and hunting Aberrant Spawn like this is part of my duty.”
Ishikanfeng answered as if it were obvious.
“I happened to pass by and was attacked, so I cleaned it up. It seems it was your target.”
He glanced over their wounds and exhaustion, continuing,
“Since our goals are the same, and since these Aberrant Spawn—Demons as you call them—aren’t rare here, perhaps we can cooperate?”
He had only a year for this mission, and the Boss’s cowardice and tendency to run was famous.
If he let the target feel too threatened, it would simply hide and time would run out, leading to a mutual loss.
With Mingnu’s Blood Demon Art, he might not have time to take out Muzan and all the String Moons alone.
To create a kill zone, the Demon Slayer Corps was the best partner.
His proposal left the three members stunned.
Cooperate?
With an unknown stranger who called Demons Aberrant Spawn and himself a sea patrol ranger?
But he had just singlehandedly slain a Demon that the three of them together couldn’t take down.
That was undeniable.
And he clearly had enmity toward Demons.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
The wounded member—apparently the squad leader—hesitated, then spoke.
“We need to report this. This area is patrolled by Lady Kochou Kanae of the Flower Pillar. We must report both this incident and your appearance to her and let her decide.”
“Flower Pillar?”
“Yes. The strongest fighters of the Demon Slayer Corps are called Pillars. The one responsible here is Flower Pillar Kochou Kanae.”
“Kochou…Kanae?”
Ishikanfeng repeated the name softly, understanding dawning in his eyes.
Does Destiny Space always send people ahead of schedule?
Last time, it was over ten years early.
This time, several years ahead.
But that was fine.
The sooner, the fewer tragedies Muzan could cause.
Many in the Demon Slayer Corps were gentle souls—gentle souls shouldn’t be treated harshly by the world.
At least Tanjiro wouldn’t have to lose his precious family.
Tell me, and I’ll protect it all.
“Of course. Then, before your Pillar arrives, why don’t we share information on nearby Demon activity? Eliminating Aberrant Spawn can’t wait.”
His attitude was utterly sincere, as if he truly were a ranger dedicated to cleansing evil.
The three young members glanced at each other.
They were still wary, but their hostility had greatly lessened.
The power and clear hostility toward Demons he’d shown were grounds for cooperation.
“Alright.”
The leader nodded.
“We’ll clean up here first, then send a message to Lady Flower Pillar with the Crows.”