No matter how startled Kochou Kanae was by Koyori Giyuu speaking normally over there, things suddenly became a lot less boring for Shi Hanfeng.
The previous second, he was still lamenting over how barren the late-night food culture was in the Demon Slayer world.
He had wandered around for ages before finding a decent-looking izakaya, only just finished ordering, and the yakitori skewers had barely hit the table.
The next second, the scene before his eyes abruptly shifted.
The lively chatter, the clatter of dishes, and the shopkeeper’s enthusiastic greetings vanished in an instant, replaced by a boundless blue ocean.
Beneath his feet was fine, warm white sand, still holding the lingering heat of sunlight, soft and yielding underfoot.
A salty sea breeze gently brushed his cheeks, carrying the refreshing scent of seaweed. In his ears was the rhythmic sound of waves washing the shore, so soothing it made his eyelids heavy.
The change in environment was too sudden. Even with Shi Hanfeng’s broad experience, he found himself momentarily stunned.
He quickly scanned his surroundings—blue sky, white clouds, sunlight, beach, waves…
Everything felt overwhelmingly real, yet suffused with an inexplicable sense of familiarity, something that resonated from deep within his soul.
Then, his gaze fixed on a spot not far away.
A beach chair was set up beneath a massive rainbow umbrella, with a figure lounging lazily atop it.
It was a woman with striking silver-gray long hair, her locks cascading like a waterfall and shimmering softly under the sunlight.
She had a tall, slender figure, dressed in a rather modest summer swimsuit, but the basic design only made her breathtaking curves stand out even more.
A pair of small cat-eye sunglasses perched on her face, obscuring part of her features, but even with just the lower half visible, Shi Hanfeng felt a powerful sense of familiarity.
When she noticed his arrival, the silver-haired beauty used a finger with pale blue nail polish to gently push down her sunglasses, revealing a pair of lazy, smiling blue eyes.
She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering briefly on his ordinary attire that clashed with the vacation vibes of the beach, then casually waved her hand.
“Yo~ You’re here.”
Her voice carried a lazy, drawn-out tone, as if greeting a long-time friend who’d arrived late.
Shi Hanfeng looked at the person in front of him—the figure who, in his own world, had single-handedly propelled a certain game to the top of the 3D charts—and raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Bronea Zaychek, or rather, the mature version of Duck.
He couldn’t help but complain in his heart: Family, it’s too early, but I just saw Duck on the beach.
Though the appearance was a perfect replica, Shi Hanfeng could clearly sense that the familiarity wasn’t just from her looks, but from a deep, soul-level connection and resonance.
And the only thing that could give him such a feeling…
He steadied himself and walked forward, the white sand sinking softly under his steps.
Standing before the beach chair, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow with interest, voicing a classic opening line.
“So, you’re my master… My Zanpakuto?”
Across from him, Duck’s lips curved into a wider smile, apparently finding the opening amusing.
She cooperatively sat up straighter, the motion accentuating her graceful curves, then stretched lazily, arms raised above her head, like a relaxed cat.
“That’s right, my lord.”
Having confirmed her identity, Shi Hanfeng’s confusion over the sudden change in space faded—only to be replaced by even bigger questions.
“It’s really not easy to meet you, huh? Since you’ve awakened your own will, I’ve tried to communicate so many times, but you always ignored me. Why are you suddenly willing to meet now?”
He recalled that after obtaining his Zanpakuto, he had repeatedly tried to sense the Sword Spirit, but it was like throwing a stone into the sea. He’d thought maybe his method was wrong, or the Sword Spirit was just arrogant.
This comment seemed to hit a nerve.
The lazy, teasing smile vanished from the Sword Spirit’s face, replaced instantly by a collapsed expression.
Her brows drooped, lips pulled down, forming a standard duck emoji (□口), her eyes filled with almost tangible resentment.
“I ignored you?”
The Sword Spirit’s voice rose, tinged with incredulous anger. She jumped up from the beach chair, barefoot on the sand, hands on hips.
“Do you even hear yourself? I couldn’t reach you! Think, you jerk, after you exchanged for me, what good things did you do?”
Faced with the sudden change in attitude and the Sword Spirit’s barrage of accusations, Shi Hanfeng was left a little dazed.
He instinctively began to recall.
On the first night after returning, he’d exchanged his points for a discounted Dust Song Pot, Zanpakuto, and a Memory Crystal from the game store, then went to sleep.
The next day, he used the Memory Crystal and assimilated the Rochet template…
Wait, Memory Crystal?
Seeing Shi Hanfeng’s face shift from realization to slight guilt, the Sword Spirit let out a cold laugh, pointing accusingly at him and unleashing a rapid-fire tirade.
“So you finally remember! Memory Crystal, a thing connected to Star God, you think it’s that simple? While you were talking to that Otto-faced Blond, I could see the outside, but it was like there was a thick, fuzzy glass between us.”
“No matter how I called, you didn’t respond! I was banging drums on my end, but you were on mute mode!”
If she hadn’t been blocked by the barrier at the time, she would have wanted to hit both of them inside with a Lushan Rising Dragon Strike.
The more she spoke, the angrier she became, her chest heaving with emotion, making Shi Hanfeng a bit dizzy.
“And then? Sure, you fused completely, and your soul got a boost from the crystal, stronger and more solid.”
“But what about me? I was locked out entirely! That original partition—I could at least poke a little hole to get some air with effort—now you dug up a huge treasure and upgraded it to bulletproof soundproof glass.”
“I could scream my lungs out and you wouldn’t hear! How’s that my fault? Was I the one ignoring you?”
No wonder the Sword Spirit was overflowing with resentment.
Imagine, just as you were gaining consciousness and struggling to connect with the only person you could sense, the other party suddenly reinforced the soul barrier, cutting off all contact and leaving you alone in a void.
That kind of loneliness and frustration—seeing yourself even wave hello—only showed how kind-hearted she was.
Hearing the Sword Spirit’s heavy, sarcastic yet reasonable explanation, Shi Hanfeng rubbed his nose in embarrassment.
What a mess.
He had thought his Zanpakuto was just aloof or had some special trigger condition and didn’t want to communicate. Turns out he had single-handedly caused a signal blackout.
Thinking about it, if he had just been born, had clear thoughts, and was eager to talk to someone, but the only person he could contact suddenly locked him in a dark room with no response, he’d probably lose it too—maybe even more than this Sword Spirit.
“Ahem,”
He coughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension and forcibly changed the subject.
“So, how come we’re able to connect now? And this beach—is it your doing?”
He glanced around at the uncannily realistic vacation setting, even the scent of sea salt in the air perfectly replicated.
The Sword Spirit gave him a sideways glance. As an extension of Shi Hanfeng’s soul, she could see right through his little attempt to dodge the question.
But she wasn’t really the petty type; venting her built-up resentment was enough.
Strictly speaking, the power of the Memory Crystal had also benefited her as a Sword Spirit tethered to the soul, fundamentally strengthening her abilities. The process was just a bit… traumatic.
Besides, in reality, the main authority in this consciousness space belonged to Shi Hanfeng. She was merely the secondary administrator.
If she annoyed him like some impish brat, she’d be the one to suffer.
She didn’t want to be a noisy fairy, after all.
She waved her hand as if to dispel something unpleasant, then lay back down on the beach chair, returning to her lazy pose.
“Forget it, scolding you is pointless, you never change anyway. If you want to thank anyone for us reconnecting, thank the uninvited guest outside.”
As she spoke, the space above the sand rippled subtly.
A figure suddenly appeared nearby, as if forcibly wedged into the scene.
He wore a long black coat, his face deathly pale without a trace of blood, black hair fading to gray hanging neatly, a sickly, twisted smile on his lips—it was Lower Moon One, Enmu.
After materializing, Enmu looked around in confusion, particularly at the sun overhead, which radiated a warm glow and, to him, should have been deadly poison.
He stretched out a thin, pale hand, spreading his fingers as if to touch the illusory sunlight, his voice tinged with wonder and intoxication.
“Oh my? Is this… I can stand in the sunlight? Is this a dream? This sense of reality… What a marvelous sensation.”
Ever since becoming a demon, sunlight had become an untouchable taboo. This feeling was both unfamiliar and exhilarating, a thrill that came from trampling forbidden ground.
“That’s the one.”
The Sword Spirit curled her lips and nodded toward Enmu with her chin, her face openly filled with disdain.
“I’ve got no fondness for these kinds of pleasure-seekers who delight in others’ pain and pure stimulation. They’re no different from Mahpo Priest—just looking at them makes me sick.”
She turned to Shi Hanfeng to explain: “Our renewed connection has something to do with him. Though his hypnosis tricks have little effect on you—especially after using the Memory Crystal and having your soul strengthened—like a mosquito trying to bite an elephant, when he tried to invade the edge of your consciousness, I used that force to pry open a small gap and pulled this part of your consciousness in.”
“Oh?”
Enmu caught the exchange, shifting his attention from the sunlight back to Shi Hanfeng, his unsettlingly joyful smile never wavering.
“You pulled me, a demon of hypnosis, into a dream on purpose? How creative of you, Mister Fragrant-and-Tempting.”
Even aware he might be on enemy turf, Enmu showed no panic. Instead, he seemed more excited, pupils dilating slightly.
As Lower Moon One, he had absolute confidence in his Blood Demon Art—Forced Sleep: Dream Domination.
As long as it was within the Dream Domain, he believed he could turn anyone’s territory into his playground.
Unfortunately, he’d encountered someone who didn’t play by the rules.
Shi Hanfeng stroked his chin, understanding dawning.
Got it. The special physique of the Xianzhou was at work again.
He’d just wanted to find a decent-looking restaurant at night, try out the world’s cuisine, and make up for the dry rations and grilled meat from the last world.
In a new world, if you didn’t try the local food, it was like you’d never visited.
After all, food was life, and he’d never truly enjoyed neon city street food in his previous or current life.
In the last Goblin Slayer world, the food was barely edible, not enjoyable.
Who could’ve predicted that venturing out for a bite would attract a wandering Lower Moon One?
And because of his body’s special anti-demon allure, the guy pounced like a shark smelling blood.
Seems like the world really has it out for him.
In the last world, Goblin drop rates were high, but he never ran into rare elites. Here, demons swarmed like starter mobs.
Worse, ordinary demons dropped fewer rewards than Goblins—pure frustration.
He was also puzzled. Enmu, by original trajectory, should’ve been obsessed with trains, working his slumber arts on his chosen stage. What was he doing wandering around?
“Isn’t this supposed to be your stage?”
“Not a dream. This is between memories.”
The Sword Spirit couldn’t be bothered to explain further. She waved her hand dismissively at Enmu, as if shooing a buzzing fly.
“Forget it. Talking to someone who only toys with surface consciousness is pointless. The difference is just too great.”
Then she turned to Shi Hanfeng, pointing at the curious Enmu.
“This guy, is he of any use to you? If not, I’ll just deal with him now. Like Mahpo Priest, I really can’t stand these kinds of pleasure-seekers—they just ruin my mood. The only kind I can tolerate are the likes of Fireworks, those who at least have some artistic sense.”
Shi Hanfeng deliberately made a disgusted face, sizing up his Sword Spirit.
“Didn’t expect it. So you’re the type to judge by appearances. Pick and choose based on looks?”
The Sword Spirit crossed her arms, returning his gaze with equal disdain, her blue eyes full of meaning—aren’t you just the same?
“Oh? Really? Whose soul am I an extension of? Where did I inherit these aesthetic preferences? How strange~”
Her tone was dripping with mockery.
“Alright, enough joking around.”
Shi Hanfeng put away his playful expression, his tone turning serious.
A key issue had occurred to him, and his expression grew grave.
“Do the things that happen here—my memories—get leaked out through any sort of connection? For example, could Muzan sense it?”
His plans had only just begun. If this accident alerted Muzan to anything amiss, it’d be a disaster.
A single Lower Moon couldn’t make up for that loss.
The Sword Spirit snapped her fingers with a flourish, her words brimming with confidence.
“You want to confuse Muzan, right? Relax, the space between memories is an extension of your soul—my territory. I can adjust everything here—environment, information—at will.”
“If you don’t want to reveal the truth, I can create a custom battle replay for you. That way, anyone snooping through this guy’s memories—say, someone you want to mislead—will only see what you want them to. For example, you struggling desperately to barely defeat this Lower Moon. Or whatever script you prefer.”
She winked, giving Shi Hanfeng a not-so-subtle hint.
“Even better.”
Shi Hanfeng nodded in satisfaction, a calculating smile curving his lips.
In that case, there was no need to keep up the righteous act.
This Lower Moon One, who had delivered himself so nicely, was the perfect test subject.
He could now see just what good things came from the increased drop rates for slaying a Moon, as mentioned in the mission description.
The two exchanged a silent, knowing glance, then simultaneously turned their malicious gazes toward Enmu, who stood on the beach still curiously examining the space between memories, wearing the fearless smile of the ignorant.
The twisted, joyful smile on Enmu’s face stiffened.
Though mad and obsessed with manipulating dreams and emotions, he wasn’t a fool.
From the look in their eyes and their earlier conversation—which he only half-understood—he realized, with chilling clarity, that he wasn’t here as an observer or participant in some game, but as the game itself.
Hunter and prey had switched roles.
This was bad.
He might have played himself.