"I've been waiting for you for a long time!"
Tendo Feiyuzhen's lips curled into a sharp, predatory smile. His voice didn't crack with fear; it hummed with the electric thrill of a hunter who had finally cornered his quarry.
The demon blinked, its crimson eyes widening. Is this brat... insane?
The creature's confusion didn't last. With a sharp shua, a flash of steel sliced through the moonlight. Tendo moved like a coil of lightning, the heavy cleaver in his hand whistling as it aimed straight for the demon's throat.
A spray of bluish-black blood hit the dirt. The demon recoiled, its hand clutching a jagged gash in its neck, staring at Tendo with pure disbelief.
This was no ordinary child.
Tendo calmly set the heavy sack of rice aside. He didn't want to waste good grain, and getting demon filth on his dinner was out of the question. He flicked the gore off the cleaver's edge, pointing the blade at the monster.
"I have to say, you're a bit of a letdown," Tendo said, his golden eyes narrowing with a condescending glint. "I'm just a kid, and you're already bleeding. Are all you monsters this pathetic?"
The contempt in his tone acted like salt in the demon's wound. To be mocked by a 'roasted chicken' sitting on its own dinner table was more than its pride could bear.
"You arrogant little brat! I'll tear the skin from your bones!"
The demon lunged, its body a blur of bluish-black shadow under the silver moon. Its claws tore through the air with a screeching whistle, aiming to crush Tendo's skull.
Clang!
The forest path rang with the sound of snapping metal. The household cleaver, never meant for such violence, shattered in two. A shallow, bloody mark appeared across Tendo's chest as he was knocked back.
"Hahahaha! Go on, keep talking!" The demon cackled, pointing a jagged finger at him. "I'll give you a head start, kid. Run. See how far you get."
Tendo didn't argue. He turned and bolted into the trees. The demon stayed where it was, watching him go with a sickening grin. It wasn't being merciful; its Blood Demon Art was a potent toxin. It wouldn't be long before the brat's lungs seized and his limbs turned to lead.
As Tendo "escaped," the demon licked the boy's blood from its claws. It even bit into its own hand to savor the lingering taste of the Rare Blood.
"Fragrant... so divine!" The demon's body twisted in an ecstatic shiver. "This is easily the greatest blood in the world!"
In the distance, Tendo's steps faltered. He began to stagger, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Damn... it... poison!" Tendo shrieked, collapsing face-first into the grass, his body twitching as if in its final throes.
Driven by a frenzied hunger, the demon dropped to all fours like a beast. It rushed Tendo, its maw unhinging to reveal rows of yellowed fangs. It aimed for the jugular, eyes wide with the anticipation of the first warm swallow.
Just as its teeth brushed his skin, the world flipped.
A jagged half-blade, moving too fast for the eye to follow, swept through the air. In a heartbeat, the demon's vision spun.
When it finally came to its senses, its head was pinned to the earth, separated from its twitching body.
Tendo stood over it, holding the broken half of the cleaver. The wound on his chest was already closed—completely healed, leaving only his shredded clothes as a reminder of the strike. He kicked the demon's headless torso away and leaned on the blade pinning the head to the dirt.
"You monsters really are fascinating," Tendo murmured, a gentle, almost academic smile on his face. He patted the demon's cold, green cheek. "Tenacious life, even without a body. It's truly marvelous."
To the demon, that smile was more terrifying than any blade. If Kibutsuji Muzan inspired absolute, soul-crushing awe, this human inspired a visceral, bone-deep horror. The boy hadn't been weak; he had been playing.
"How?" the demon rasped, its voice a hysterical gurgle. "My poison could kill a bull in seconds! You should be dead!"
"Because I'm a Rare Blood," Tendo replied simply. He hadn't lied about being poisoned—it had hurt like hell—but it had been a calculated pain.
Tendo was a transmigrator, and his soul had brought a "Special Constitution" to this body. It manifested in three ways:
Heightened Perception: A nascent sixth sense for danger.
Rapid Regeneration: While he couldn't regrow limbs like a demon, his wounds closed with unnatural speed.
Blood Adaptability: This was his greatest asset. His blood possessed a terrifying ability to adapt to external stimuli.
He had spent two years testing this with Old Man Kuwajima's help. His blood could heal others, stay fresh for a month, and—most importantly—learn to resist toxins. He had intentionally let the demon hit him just to see if he could build an immunity to its specific Blood Demon Art.
"Look at my clothes," Tendo sighed, staring resentfully at the pinned head. "The Old Man is going to chew me out for ruining another shirt. How are you going to compensate me for this?"
The demon's jaw hung open. Compensate you? I'm literally a head on a stick!
"Kill me, you monster! Just do it!" the demon roared. "Otherwise, the moment I regenerate, I'll eat your soul!"
Tendo looked at the creature with pity. He held his hand out toward its snapping jaws. "Here. You want a bite? Go ahead. Eat."
The demon hesitated, then lunged with its teeth. Tendo yanked his hand back at the last second, laughing. "I gave you a chance, but you're just too slow!"
"Are you playing with me?!"
Tendo patted the demon's head like a pet. "Congratulations. You finally figured it out."
The demon's face turned a bruised shade of red, its veins bulging. It was being treated like an idiot by a twelve-year-old child.
"Anyway, playtime's over," Tendo said, his voice dropping an octave as he sat down cross-legged in the dirt. He leaned in close, his golden eyes reflecting the moon. "Next is the Q&A. Let's talk about your boss, Mr. Trash Demon. How's life under... Kibutsuji Muzan?"
The name was a devil's whisper. The demon froze, its pupils shrinking to pinpricks as the forbidden name echoed in the silent woods.