Shi Hanfeng followed Kochou Kanae onto the stone path of the Ubuyashiki Residence, the rich scent of flowers wrapping around his nose.
He didn’t stop walking.
His gaze unconsciously swept over the wisteria vines climbing the inner walls of the courtyard, his fingertips curling slightly at his side.
The fragrance was strong—almost deliberately so.
The vines twisted around wooden frames, weaving a dense net. Even the air was filled with the faint scent of flowers.
A pale purple petal landed on his sleeve.
He raised his hand and pinched it, gently rubbing the delicate lines of the petal between his fingers, a hint of emotion in his voice.
“The wisteria flowers here grow really well.”
As his words fell, he pressed the petal again, as if confirming the plant’s real texture.
“Isn’t that so?”
Kochou Kanae turned to look at him, a gentle smile on her lips.
Her fingers lightly brushed the hair draping over her shoulder.
“Demons hate wisteria flowers the most.”
“The components in these flowers instinctively repel demons. Even if a demon passes by, it’ll avoid any place with wisteria by reflex.”
She paused, slowing her steps.
Her gaze turned serious, her previously uplifted lips pressed into a line—clearly emphasizing the importance of wisteria.
Shi Hanfeng raised an eyebrow, a thought suddenly popping into his mind.
Isn’t this just ‘there’s no silver here, three hundred taels’?
Wisteria is poisonous to demons, true, but it’s not indestructible.
Fire can burn the vines to ash, a strong wind can tear branches apart, and deep frost can freeze roots. For demons with area-attack Blood Demon Art, this defense is almost nothing.
If something harmful to you grows in clusters, isn’t that just a blatant Protection Zone?
Even without any tricks, anyone would think of destroying it under normal circumstances. Yet Muzan and his demons never tried to mess with it.
“In that case, Muzan and his demons must not be very bright.”
He voiced his thoughts directly, his tone a little careless.
The petal at his fingertips was tossed away, landing on the stone path.
Kochou Kanae blinked, surprised by his bluntness.
Then she couldn’t help but laugh, her shoulders shaking lightly—her hair quivering along with them.
“You’re not wrong, Qingyuan-san. But thanks to these wisteria flowers, the residence has remained peaceful.”
She pointed forward as she spoke, her slender finger aimed at the imposing Main House not far ahead.
Her gaze, once full of laughter, sobered a little.
“That’s the Main House. The Yin is already waiting there.”
Shi Hanfeng followed her gaze.
Sure enough, he saw someone in a black uniform standing at the entrance.
The person’s face was covered by a dark mask, revealing only their eyes.
Their hands hung at their sides in a respectful posture.
As they approached, the Yin member bowed deeply—almost reaching a perfect apologetic angle—speaking through the mask.
“Flower Hashira-sama, Qingyuan-san, please follow me.”
Following the Yin member into the Main House, Shi Hanfeng hadn’t yet seen the interior layout before hearing voices from within.
A low sigh, and a slightly flamboyant laugh.
He stepped over the high threshold, quickly scanning the room.
A long wooden table stood in the center, with several people already seated in front of it.
Each one carried an unmistakable aura—solemn or flamboyant, each with a unique presence.
No need to guess: these were the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Looks like I’ve joined a Pillar Meeting.
Shi Hanfeng thought to himself.
According to his memory from the original work, during Tanjiro’s time there were nine Hashira in the Demon Slayer Corps—an era overflowing with talent, with the Corps at its peak.
But it was obvious this was before that surge of power.
There were fewer people at the table—only four at a glance.
His eyes first landed on the person at the far left, dressed in monk’s robes.
The man was tall, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
A long scar ran across his forehead, hands resting on his knees, eyes lowered.
A solemn aura surrounded him.
It was the third-strongest Pillar in the Corps’ history, the Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima.
Upon seeing them, Gyomei Himejima pressed his palms together.
His eyes, previously lowered, lifted slightly, and a tear slid down his cheek.
His voice was filled with compassion.
“Kanae, you’ve come.”
Tears dripped onto his robe, blooming dark stains, but he remained unmoved, hands still pressed together.
Then the Sound Hashira, Tengen Uzui, seated next to Himejima, spoke.
He wore a luxurious jacket patterned with gold, the collar open to reveal dark inner layers.
His hair was tied with a diamond-encrusted band, a few strands falling over his forehead, his fingers toying with the gems.
“Oh my, Butterfly, you finally arrived. If you’d taken any longer, some people would’ve stared holes through the table.”
Beside him, the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, sat with arms tightly crossed, muscles tensed, brow furrowed in annoyance and impatience.
Hearing Tengen Uzui’s words, he snorted, frowning even deeper.
Shi Hanfeng lingered on these three, a sense of familiarity welling up.
These three were just as he remembered from Tanjiro’s era.
But his gaze soon shifted to the person on the far right.
In his memories, this was the most persecuted and sharp-tongued man—Koyori Giyuu.
He hadn’t spoken, appearing on the surface as nothing more than a cold-faced handsome man.
“That’s Koyori Giyuu,”
Kochou Kanae’s voice sounded by his ear.
She had noticed Shi Hanfeng’s gaze and leaned in.
“He’s the current Water Hashira, disciple of Sakonji Urokodaki. Sakonji Urokodaki was the previous Water Hashira.”
Shi Hanfeng nodded, shifting his eyes from Sakonji Urokodaki, and quickly counted in his mind.
Stone Hashira, Sound Hashira, Wind Hashira, Water Hashira—plus Kochou Kanae as the Flower Hashira.
The Demon Slayer Corps had only five Hashira now.
Compared to the nine during Tanjiro’s era, their strength was greatly diminished.
Back then, each Hashira had their role, with Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke as young warriors nearly equal to Pillars—almost the strongest the Corps had been in a hundred years.
There were also Tamayo and her assistant Yushiro, who researched Muzan’s weaknesses.
No wonder Kagaya Ubuyashiki was willing to use himself, his wife, and daughter as bait to lure Muzan out after Tanjiro joined.
That was when the Demon Slayer Corps finally had the power to contend with Muzan.
But these thoughts only circled his mind for a moment.
The strength of the Corps didn’t affect his plans.
He had come to the Demon Slayer Corps to leverage their connection with Muzan.
Information spread from within the Corps would be far more convincing to Muzan than rumors from the populace, since Muzan was much more vigilant toward the Demon Slayer Corps.
Compared to the outside world, information from the Corps would make Muzan take it more seriously.
As for their combat strength, honestly, it was just a bonus.
Working with a group that harbored deep hatred for demons, he valued the fact that the Corps wouldn’t betray or slack off.
If he found ordinary people to spread information, they might confess everything after a little demon intimidation.
Muzan wasn’t an unbeatable god, but Shi Hanfeng didn’t intend to make things harder for himself by recruiting useless teammates.
“Hey, who are you?”
A rough voice suddenly cut through Shi Hanfeng’s thoughts.
He looked up.
The Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa, had straightened from his seat.
His arms were still crossed, brows furrowed so tightly veins bulged at his temples.
“Don’t let random nobodies join a Pillar meeting. Go be an ordinary person!”
Sanemi’s voice dripped with suspicion and impatience, his eyes sharp as knives as he glared at Shi Hanfeng, judging if he was some sort of spy.
The madman starts his tirade again.
Indeed, a true taste of Demon Slayer.
If he didn’t know Sanemi’s personality—outwardly harsh and violent, but actually worried about the weak joining the Corps and dying for nothing—he might have been offended.
When his younger brother joined, Sanemi had the same attitude: all harsh words, but full of concern inside.
This way of speaking is always so grating—no wonder he gets into conflicts.
Tsundere types have fallen out of fashion, especially the violent kind.
Shi Hanfeng mentally added, his expression unchanged.
Kochou Kanae immediately stepped forward, standing between Shi Hanfeng and Sanemi.
Her smile remained gentle, though her tone was lower than usual.
“Sanemi, this is Qingyuan-san. I sparred with him yesterday—he’s strong, stronger than me. Not the weakling you’re talking about.”
She tilted her head slightly, a playful tease in her voice.
“Or are you saying I’m a weakling?”
At her words, Gyomei Himejima slowly raised his head, his hands still pressed together.
Tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and soaking deeper into his robe.
“Having a strong ally to fight demons is a good thing. It means fewer innocent people will die.”
He spoke, shoulders trembling as if recalling those hurt by demons.
Tengen Uzui stood up from his chair, circling Shi Hanfeng as he sized him up—especially his platinum hair and sharply defined face, satisfaction in his eyes.
“Not bad, not bad. Not only does he look flashy, his strength is flashy too—way more dazzling than someone who only wears monk robes!”
As he spoke, he deliberately glanced at Gyomei Himejima, mischief in his eyes and a grin on his lips.
Sanemi spat, saying nothing more, but his tense shoulders relaxed as he leaned back.
Still, Shi Hanfeng could feel that the look in Sanemi’s eyes had changed—from suspicion to another kind of discomfort.
Is he jealous now?
He recalled that the original author hinted at a Kochou-ObiSanemi pairing. It was said Sanemi liked Kochou Kanae, and later only saw her sister in Kochou Shinobu.
At that moment, footsteps sounded quietly outside.
A Yin member entered, more respectful than before.
“Honored Hashira, the Lord has arrived.”
Everyone in the room immediately stood, their movements synchronized.
Shi Hanfeng turned his gaze to the door, curious to see the insightful leader of the Ubuyashiki family.
Soon, a man in a white kimono embroidered with wisteria entered.
The flower pattern couldn’t hide his pale complexion, so bloodless it was almost paper-white.
One side of his face was covered with dark veins, snaking from forehead to nose like twisted roots, and his left eye was nearly blind, leaving only a cloudy white.
He looked frail, needing the Yin member’s careful support with each shaky step, his shoulders trembling slightly.
Shi Hanfeng’s gaze lingered on those veins.
Is there also Balance of Fate here?
The curse carried by each Ubuyashiki head began when Muzan became a demon—eternal life clearly came at a steep price.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki entered, pausing to cough softly, the sound weak and weary as if even coughing drained his strength.
Afterward, he rubbed his chest, fingers pressing lightly, and offered an apologetic smile, his gentle eyes sweeping over those present.
His voice was hoarse.
“Forgive me, everyone. I wasn’t feeling well and arrived late. Thank you for waiting.”
“There’s no need to blame yourself, Lord,”
Gyomei Himejima was the first to speak, voice still low.
“Your health is important. We would wait as long as needed.”
As he spoke, tears fell again—this time from worry.
“That’s right, Lord. Overworking yourself isn’t very flamboyant.”
Tengen Uzui added, his tone less boastful than before, replaced by genuine concern.
Sanemi and Koyori Giyuu nodded in agreement.
They said nothing, but the respect in their eyes was clear.
Shi Hanfeng watched silently, understanding.
From their reactions, it was clear Kagaya Ubuyashiki was respected not for his status, but for his personal charisma.
The ability to make such strong individuals willingly follow—even die—for him was rare.
Kagaya Ubuyashiki bowed slightly in gratitude, then slowly turned his gaze, sweeping from Gyomei Himejima to Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Sakonji Urokodaki, and finally to Shi Hanfeng.
His eyes were gentle, like spring sunlight, but carried a penetrating strength as if they could see into one’s soul.
Sure enough, Kagaya Ubuyashiki looked at him, a faint, sincere smile on his lips.
There was no arrogance in that smile—only honesty.
His tone was so sincere it was impossible to refuse.
His first words were:
“Hello, Qingyuan-san. It’s nice to meet you. I am Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Lord of the Demon Slayer Corps.”
“You don’t seem like one for formalities, so let’s get to the point. I’ve heard your intentions. How do you want me to cooperate in the fight against Muzan?”