As the battle progressed, even the ordinary members of the Demon Slayer Corps began to achieve remarkable results.
They restrained and surrounded the weaker demons, preventing them from interfering with the Hashira who were locked in decisive battles against the Upper Ranks.
"Squad Seven! Reinforce the eastern side immediately! The swordsmen there are already severely wounded!"
Deep within the mountains, Ubuyashiki Kiriya, with a strange patterned cloth tied over his head, was fully focused on directing the battle.
The cloth came from Tamayo's subordinate, the demon who does not eat humans—Yushiro.
This Blood Demon Art allowed him to share vision with the crows, enabling him to command the entire battlefield remotely despite not being inside the Infinity Castle.
The sound of the biwa within the Infinity Castle grew increasingly shrill, the twisting space like a rampaging beast dragging the flames of war into every dark corner.
Inside a towering ancient building that had already been shattered and distorted, dull drumbeats combined with thunder and violent winds, nearly rupturing the eardrums.
That was Upper Rank Four—Hantengu's strongest combat form: Zohakuten.
"Creatures who bully the weak..."
Zohakuten's childlike face was filled with rage, a drum wheel bearing the character "Hatred" floating behind him.
With every strike, enormous wooden dragons burst from the ground, roaring.
They bared their fangs and claws, each one carrying the terrifying force to split mountains and shatter stone.
Within the encirclement of wooden dragons, three figures moved at high speed.
Sanemi Shinazugawa grinned ferociously, his Nichirin Blade carving out waves of wind pressure that shredded the incoming dragons.
"Hey, hey! How long are you going to keep playing these childish tricks? That righteous tone of yours makes me want to rip your guts out!"
"Wind Breathing, Fifth Form: Cold Autumn Mountain Wind!"
A violent gale instantly severed the heads of the wooden dragons, carving out a safe zone.
"Sanemi! Don't get dragged into the fight! Remember the Master's instructions!"
"This body is just a disguise created by that coward to escape responsibility!"
Kyojuro Rengoku's booming voice echoed.
He swung his blazing Nichirin Blade, his mark burning like raging flames across his brow.
Wherever his blade passed, even the regenerating wooden dragons were completely incinerated.
Hearing this, Sanemi did not linger. He didn't even spare Zohakuten another glance.
Twisting his body, he used the wind to launch himself deeper into the ancient building.
Giyu Tomioka remained silent, guarding the rear like flowing water.
Whenever waves of stone, thunder, or raging wind swept toward them, he simply raised his hand.
"Eleventh Form: Dead Calm."
All attacks dissolved into nothingness around him.
Zohakuten furiously pounded the drum behind him, countless wooden dragons roaring wildly.
"You cruel humans! Instead of fighting me, you go after the weak! How despicable!"
In the past, even Hashira would struggle against such wide-area, overwhelming Blood Demon Art.
But now, the three Hashira—Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyu Tomioka, and Kyojuro Rengoku—showed not the slightest hesitation.
They would not fight Zohakuten to the death.
During training, based on intelligence provided by Hakuji, the Master had left them with final instructions:
"Hantengu's weakness is not his manifestations. No matter how many heads you cut off, as long as the main body lives, he will continue to regenerate."
"The true body represents cowardice. It is only palm-sized and will flee at all costs... Find it, and all manifestations will vanish."
Because of this knowledge, their actions seemed absurd to Hantengu.
"There!"
Sanemi's eyes were bloodshot, his senses pushed to the limit by his fighting spirit and burning mark.
With sharp vision, he caught the foul aura of decay and fear.
It was the coward demon, hiding deep within the building, fleeing in panic.
"How is this possible... How was I found..."
Hantengu's true form trembled as it ran desperately, its small body covered in wrinkles, its cloudy eyes filled with disbelief.
For four hundred years, every demon slayer had been deceived by Zohakuten's overwhelming power until they died of exhaustion.
As long as he hid, he should never have been discovered.
But today, why were these three monsters coming straight for him?
"Was it Akaza? That damned traitor! That bastard sold me out!"
"Get away! Get away!!"
Zohakuten roared in despair, countless wooden dragons surging forward to block the Hashira.
But in that instant, Rengoku's aura surged.
The mark on his forehead blazed, casting a crimson glow.
"Flame Breathing, Ninth Form: Rengoku!"
He transformed into a blazing dragon, carving a scorched path through the sea of wood.
With the Flame Hashira opening the way, Sanemi charged straight toward Hantengu.
A cruel smile spread across his scarred face, his Nichirin Blade burning intensely.
"Got you! You coward hiding in your shell!"
Hantengu let out a shrill scream as his palm-sized body was sent flying.
He scrambled midair, trying to dive back into the shadows, trying to call Zohakuten to save him.
But it was too late.
Slash!
The tiny head rolled to the ground.
With the main body's death, Zohakuten and the overwhelming wooden dragons all stopped.
Like puppets cut from their strings, they collapsed instantly, turning into ash.
Hantengu's eyes, filled with cowardice and deceit, shed tears until the very end, trying to mask his sins.
But there was no place left for him in this world.
At the same time, in another grand hall filled with ornate decorations and countless eerie porcelain jars, the battle had reached its final turn.
Upper Rank Five—Gyokko twisted his body out of a jar, his entire form covered in diamond-hard fish scales.
"As long as these divine hands touch you, your bodies will turn into adorable fish! Come, become part of my collection!"
His movements were incredibly fast, each teleportation producing a sharp sonic boom.
Gyokko's Blood Demon Art allowed him to leap through space using his porcelain pots.
Earlier, he had summoned giant fish and used massive waves to restrict the swordsmen.
Now, in his evolved form, his strange divine hands seemed invincible.
However...
"Your scent has grown stronger."
Tanjiro Kamado closed his eyes, his nose twitching sharply.
After Gyokko evolved, the stench of rotting seafood formed clear scent trails in the air.
No matter how he teleported, the trail remained connected to his head.
Meanwhile, Obanai Iguro had reached an even greater level of focus.
His heterochromatic eyes lost their focus, the world becoming completely transparent in his vision.
Though Gyokko appeared unpredictably from different jars, Obanai could clearly see the flow of demonic energy before each movement.
His so-called perfect form appeared laughable to Tanjiro and Obanai.
In their eyes, Gyokko's teleportation had already been completely predicted.
Gyokko's figure suddenly appeared in midair, his hand just inches from Mitsuri Kanroji's face.
He laughed wildly, convinced of his victory.
"Does this twisted garbage really deserve to be called art?"
Obanai's voice was cold and emotionless.
A snake-like blade slipped silently through the gaps in Gyokko's scales.
With a single slash, the Serpent Breathing form severed his divine hand.
At the same time, Mitsuri's whip-like blade coiled around his fish tail, immobilizing him.
"Impossible! My scales are divinely strong—"
"Tanjiro! Now!"
At Mitsuri's shout, Tanjiro snapped his eyes open. The mark on his forehead spread instantly, his Nichirin Blade unleashing a golden-red flash that pierced through the hall.
"Hinokami Kagura: Beneficent Radiance!"
This thrust turned him into a blazing meteor, piercing through Gyokko's scaled chest.
"It's burning! Aaaagh!"
Gyokko screamed in agony.
But what awaited him was Obanai's decisive final strike.
The curved Nichirin Blade sliced across Gyokko's neck.
With a crisp sound, the self-proclaimed artist's head flew upward, crashing into the shattered remains of his beloved porcelain jars.
Upper Rank Five—Gyokko, exterminated!
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