Chapter 197 Ghost King
Am I going to die? This thought, like a cold blade, slowly sliced through Muzan's heart, leaving an unhealable crack. He was so unwilling; he was so close, yet it felt as if the hand of fate had gripped his throat tightly, preventing him from escaping.
Muzan felt the spark of life gradually dissipate within his body; it was an indescribable pain, as if he were being swallowed by darkness, each second a silent battle against death. His gaze fell on the unconscious Iwakatsu, and tears streamed down his face like beads from a broken string.
From birth, he was burdened by the shadow of death, as if cursed. His frail body was like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment; and the ever-present possibility of an accident left him living in endless fear and anxiety.
He had never run, for that was a luxury for him; his organs, like those of an old man weathered by time, had long lost their vitality. He was also unable to enjoy the pleasures of learning, travel the world, or experience the richness of life like others.
Muzan received meticulous care from everyone, a care bordering on indulgence, because everyone knew he could leave this world at any moment. His mother tirelessly searched for a glimmer of hope for her frail child who might die at any moment. Then she died, murdered on her way to pray for him. His father was devastated, and although he didn't blame him, he rarely visited him again.
Ah, why am I so unfortunate? From that moment on, I longed to live, to live healthily. Numbly enduring the pain of treatment, drinking the bitterest medicine in the world, I never gave up.
Muzan looked at Kokushiro, recalling the scene when he first met him.
Initially, it was just an interest in the breathing technique, and a faint, almost imperceptible fondness. Later, it turned into anger, a desire for revenge against the monster that had once stood in his way and driven him to despair. He received Yan Sheng's memories, feeling the resentment towards the injustice of fate, and the same obsession and desire that mirrored his own.
Despite having completely different experiences, possessing a strong physique and remarkable talent, able to learn, run, and travel, how could they also suffer such misfortune? The similarities are striking: that intense sense of defiance, that unwavering pursuit and yearning for their goals.
Let's cooperate, we're the same.
Ubuyashiki, I admit you are right. All living things die without exception. The demise of the body is the end. Only the eternity of the will is immortal.
So, carry on my will. Aren't we partners? Even if you betray me in the end, it doesn't matter. Live on in my place and fulfill my eternal dream.
——
"We won...we won."
"We won...we won!" These words echoed through the crowd, carrying an unbelievable joy and relief. Muzan's death, like a sudden storm, as if a dream, plunged everyone into a brief moment of shock, followed by an outpouring of intense emotion. Cries and shouts mingled, echoing the triumphant cheers across the ruins once ravaged by battle.
Tamayo collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face like broken beads, before being tightly embraced by Yushiro, who rushed over. The members of the Hidden Squad also found their way amidst the chaos, hastily helping the newly awakened Pillars, step by step, towards the place where Muzan had once been.
Watching the flesh gradually turn to ashes, their faces were covered with tears and blood as they embraced each other and cheered that it was over.
When Yuichiro woke up, the first thing he did was check on Muichiro. Seeing his younger brother's bandaged body, he finally felt relieved.
"elder brother!"
Muichiro held Ichiro tightly, and when he touched Ichiro's left hand, he sensed something was wrong. Looking at the bandaged, powerless left hand, he looked up and met Ichiro's gaze.
"It's alright, I can still move, just not as agile as before." This is under good recovery conditions. After being frozen, his muscles began to die, and even with medication, it could only barely stop the nerves from freezing; his chances of recovery were less than ten percent.
They all won, winning the battle against the Demon King and securing their own futures. Even if the road ahead is unknown, even if the wounds are difficult to heal, physical injuries are nothing; simply being alive is a blessing.
As the clamor of victory gradually subsided, they began busily moving through the ruins, transporting the wounded to emergency care. Amidst the bustling ruins, only one red figure knelt motionless, her black curly hair with red ends spread out.
Several members of the Shadow Clan surrounded him, seemingly at a loss as they faced the blood-covered man. The strong smell of rust made them worry about his condition.
"Mr. Yoriichi..."
With Yushiro's support, Tamayo walked with difficulty toward that figure. Although her gaze could not penetrate the other's disheveled hair, she could feel the deep sorrow and unwavering determination within him.
Yoriichi held Iwakatsu tightly, as if trying to absorb all his pain and sorrow into that embrace. He paid no attention to anything around him, simply enjoying the cool yet warm breath in his arms.
Suddenly he felt a cold touch on his neck. He came to his senses and saw his previously tightly closed eyelashes begin to tremble. As the black nails dug into his flesh, he saw a pair of eyes that were completely different from before.
His blood-red vertical pupils and the wounds that were bleeding instantly healed. His craving for flesh and blood made him bite Yoriichi.
"Brother?" Before Yoriichi could react, Tamayo rushed forward and used her arm to block Iwakatsu's lips and teeth. She could feel the pain of being bitten, as well as the pressure of the Demon King.
"Yoriichi, stop Iwakatsu!" Tamayo's anxious voice brought Yoriichi back to his senses. He reached out and pulled Iwakatsu back. He could feel that the other man's aura had changed, carrying a violent, rusty smell.
Kokushi's speed was exceptionally fast. He dodged Yoriichi's attack and retaliated by grabbing at Tamayo. Tamayo couldn't dodge in time and was caught by Kokushi, lifted up. A look of terror appeared on her face, but she still clung tightly to Kokushi's arm, preventing him from harming anyone else.
“Mr. Yoriichi… Mr. Iwakatsu, him…” Her words were broken and intermittent, the suffocation from the pressure on her trachea made it difficult for her to speak. “The Demon King… I can feel the Demon King’s presence.”
Yoriichi's heart sank. He raised his hand and forcefully stopped Iwakatsu's movements, suppressing the other's struggles. The red vertical pupils paired with that familiar face were something he couldn't accept.
He knew he should kill the man, but he couldn't bring himself to do it; he couldn't bring himself to draw his blade against his elder brother. Ignoring the lacerations on his back, he cradled the pale face in his hands, the red, flame-like markings so clearly visible.
"Brother, Yoriichi will always be with you."
His bloodshot eyes were brimming with tears, his brows trembled slightly, and a bitter smile played on his lips, revealing boundless sorrow. Tears fell drop by drop onto Yan Sheng's face. Yan Sheng paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his blood-red vertical pupils. A familiar feeling, an expression he had never seen before—a moment of clarity crossed his mind.
Who is it?
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