Muzan: My daughter can't be that weak!

Behind the beaded curtain, Kokushibo's six eyes calmly gazed at the two demons locked in combat below.

He remained kneeling steadily, his fingertips unconsciously lightly touching his sword.

The priestess's blood demon magic... is quite ingenious.

Transforming the abstract concept of decay into a controllable force is far more powerful than mere brute force.

That level of control is commendable.

As for Douma... the form and scale of his Ice Blood Demon Art have indeed improved compared to the past.

The use of clones is quite flexible.

However, the praise ends there.

In Kokushibo's view, those overly outward emotions and idle chatter during battle were signs of a lack of composure and a failure to focus on the Way.

However, all of them have their shortcomings.

Doma's attacks rely too heavily on the variations of Blood Demon Art, and his close-combat skills may be weak. If he encounters an enemy who can break through with absolute speed and strength, he may find it difficult to defend himself.

The effectiveness of a witch's magic diminishes with distance, which is indeed a crucial point.

Both demons rely too much on their natural talents and lack the refinement and polishing of their skills.

Just as his thoughts were turning, a voice rang out directly in his mind, breaking the silence of the spectator.

It was a message from Lord Muzan.

The commands are concise and clear.

Let him become that child's first teacher.

……Um?

teacher?

Even with Kokushibo's centuries-old composure, he couldn't help but pause slightly at this moment.

Six eyes blinked.

To teach the bloodline of Lord Muzan?

This task was completely unexpected.

Why me?

The thought flashed through his mind, but he immediately suppressed it.

The will of an adult is beyond question and its deeper meaning cannot be guessed; there are naturally reasons for assigning him a position.

He recalled the small figure in the courtyard not long ago, holding a kite, looking at him with clear eyes but a hint of timidity.

The aura was undoubtedly that of Lord Muzan, but there was a subtle difference in the feeling.

Kokushibo's thoughts raced.

This is not his area of ​​expertise.

He dedicated most of his life to the way of the sword, pursuing the highest realm beyond the limits.

For him, writing is a tool, a medium for recording martial arts skills and insights; it is not something he pursues in itself.

But, since it's an order...

Articles of association need to be drafted.

Early learning should begin with the basics. Pronunciation, form, and meaning of characters should be introduced gradually.

You will also need to prepare books, paper, and pens...

After assigning this troublesome matter, Muzan felt that the pent-up frustration that had been lingering in his heart seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Although he wasn't exactly in a good mood, at least his temples no longer throbbed as they had before.

After careful consideration, he concluded that handing it over to Kokushibo was the most appropriate choice.

Most of the so-called Upper Moons under his command were eccentric, had obvious flaws, and were not worth relying on.

Kokushibo was the only partner that Muzan could barely give a second glance.

He wouldn't be as carefree and playful as Douma, nor as restless as Akaza, and he certainly wouldn't have those trivial and fragile emotions.

While assigning an Upper Moon One as a mentor still sounds absurd, it's the best of a bad bunch compared to other, worse options.

Hopefully, that idiot can learn something... at least stop claiming he's illiterate.

*

On the other side, Yukina, who was completely unaware that she was about to have a teacher, was holding her little mako and Hanako, whom she had finally found.

She carefully placed the two little ones on the softest cushion in the center of the room.

But this is not enough.

She stood up, ran off, and hugged another group of listeners.

Grass, saplings, leaves, and other toys and wooden figures of all sizes were arranged in a neat circle around the mat.

After getting ready, Yukina nodded in satisfaction, then ran to the cherry blossom tree in the courtyard and carefully picked up a handful of pink and white petals.

She returned to the center of the circle, knelt down, and began to work earnestly.

"This is for the small mill... make sure to spread it evenly."

"Hanako likes it a little more... um, I see!"

She carefully arranged the soft petals, placing them in front of each doll as if they were exquisite dishes.

"This is for Daddy..."

In front of an empty spot, she piled up a particularly large and fluffy bunch of petals, and even specially selected the most intact and beautiful ones to place on top.

"This is for Nakime-neechan..."

"Ah, and Uncle Doma's too... well, but he probably doesn't like eating quietly."

She placed a small pile in front of that empty space, and after thinking for a moment, she playfully stuck a thin blade of grass into the pile of petals as a special seasoning.

With everything arranged, she finally sat back in her seat, placing Komo and Hanako close to her on either side, then clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

"Let's dig in!"

Then, she started pretending to eat.

It makes chewing and tasting motions in the air, nodding from time to time and exclaiming "Mmm, so delicious!" It even takes care of those around it, pretending to feed Koma and Hanako a few bites as well.

After a sumptuous feast of flower petals, she began the next activity.

She took the dolls for walks, told them stories, played hide-and-seek... she played every game she could think of.

However, when all the schedules were completed, the courtyard remained quiet, with only cherry blossoms falling silently.

The footsteps and voices she longed for never came.

Xue Nai hugged her knees, slowly, slowly lowered her head, and rested her chin on the top of the doll's head in her arms.

The sparkle from the game faded from her eyes, replaced by a faint sheen of tears and an undisguised sense of grievance.

She really...really dislikes having a ghost around.

It was empty and quiet, as if the whole world had forgotten her.

Uh...

This thought made her nose tingle.

She sniffed hard, trying to hold back the tears that were about to well up in her eyes.

I can't cry, it's useless anyway, no one will hear me.

Suddenly, something occurred to her, and her dim eyes lit up slightly.

You could try calling him "Dad"...

But as soon as the thought popped into his head, his courage deflated like a punctured balloon.

What if Dad is busy with something important? Would it be inappropriate to disturb him without permission?

Moreover, he seemed to have said before that he was busy making money and looking for Hua Hua, and told her not to contact him unless necessary.

She hesitated and turned her head to look at her only two companions beside her.

She reached out her little hand and gently touched the little millstone's white woolen hair, whispering to it:

"Xiao Mo...can I...ask Dad what he's doing right now?"

After a pause, she turned to Hanako, her voice even softer:

"Hanako...do you think Daddy...will have time right now?"

The dolls, of course, didn't answer; they simply stared at her silently.

But expressing my doubts to them felt like sharing some of my anxiety.

Although no answer was obtained, it was as if a little bit of courage was drawn from these silent friends simply by asking.