Demon Slayer: Muzan, will you dance too?

It is indeed easier to cut along the scar, and using the shattered Nichirin Blade, it is possible to cause greater damage in an instant.

Unfortunately, their hard power is still lacking by a considerable margin.

The fact that nearly half of the heart and brain were destroyed was only due to the use of surprise tactics.

The vital location is not fixed within its body.

Although it can be clearly seen, it is impossible to destroy them all at the same time.

Not wanting to waste such a rare opportunity, he quickly drew his spare Nichirin Blade from his waist.

The sword is drawn silently, and its stroke leaves no trace.

Kiyokawa Izumi's expression changed slightly as he pressed forward. He had intended to press his advantage, but without hesitation, he decisively retreated.

The wooden floor was instantly devastated, and amidst the flying dust, the figure of Muzan became blurred.

Not only that, but tiny scratches appeared on her face. She casually wiped away the slowly seeping blood, and Kiyokawa Izumi's brows furrowed slightly.

"What was that thing just now?"

"For a moment, it's hard to see clearly?"

If they hadn't reacted in time, they would probably have been severely damaged.

"Both its speed and power far surpass the previous whip strike... If I'm not mistaken, it should be that move, right?"

Enraged, Muzan, having switched forms again, no longer believed he could easily defeat Kiyokawa Izumi in his normal state.

Countless rope-like tentacles extend from behind, with their ends even connected to rather sharp bone spurs.

If you count them carefully, there should be nine.

"Was it because they felt threatened, or were they angry and embarrassed?"

"The legendary second form?"

When facing the Demon King form, Kiyokawa Izumi's only thought was, how ugly, how unbearable to look at—can something so ugly be called a perfect creature?

Seeing yourself like this, don't you feel disgusted by how ugly you look?

It's unclear when exactly, but Muzan's hair has turned white, and his arms and lower body appear to be covered in blood and hair, with a huge mouth covered in sharp serrated teeth.

A terrifying aura was released without any attempt to conceal it; under such a powerful sense of oppression, the surrounding air seemed to solidify into a tangible substance.

It felt as if an invisible hand was gripping my heart tightly, making even breathing difficult.

Perhaps this is what is meant by biological-level domination.

Just like an unarmed ordinary person facing a ferocious lion on a vast grassland.

Just that indifferent and cruel gaze was enough to send chills down one's spine and make one break out in a cold sweat.

It would be a mistake for Muzan to think that he had never experienced fear or despair.

As a living, breathing human being, how could we possibly lack the emotions we should have?

Simply discard these useless emotions, that's all.

In just one breath, Kiyokawa Izumi had readjusted.

"Scrap!"

As the dust slowly settled, Muzan's figure reappeared. This shameless guy was truly incredibly open at this moment.

Lord Ghost King, won't you even put on a single piece of clothing?

Tsk.

The injuries sustained earlier are healing rapidly, and the dozen or so Nichirin Blade fragments are being expelled from the body little by little as the flesh and blood reassemble.

The crimson color slowly faded, and the fragments gradually returned to their original color.

"To be driven to this state by a piece of trash, it seems the so-called Ghost King is nothing more than this?"

A calm voice followed, and as the words fell, Kiyokawa Izumi, unwilling to delay, stepped forward, clearly ready to go all out.

A sudden, inexplicable nosebleed began to flow, seemingly a warning from his body.

After reaching their peak, a decline in performance is inevitable.

What's more troublesome is that they didn't force out all of Muzan's trump cards—they only revealed a second form; this guy still has other tricks up his sleeve.

The tentacles, lashing out from multiple directions, are unpredictable and dazzling, making them difficult to see clearly, while their swift power should not be underestimated.

The fragile wooden floorboards cracked and shattered, a sharp, piercing sound echoing through the air at a speed beyond visual perception.

One of them grazed Kiyokawa Izumi's shoulder, tearing her clothes and taking away small pieces of flesh along with it.

Intense pain followed, but Kiyokawa Izumi's expression remained unchanged; he simply focused intently on gathering more information with his eyes.

It seemed as if it wanted to imprint the entire trajectory of every tentacle's swing in its mind.

Not only did he not have time to bandage his wounds, he didn't even use breathing to stop the bleeding. Instead, he let the blood flow out in large quantities, and even felt that it wasn't enough.

"You actually knew that?"

Muzan, who was venting his anger, suddenly asked a question.

Of course, it didn't expect the person in front of it to have the capacity to answer its questions.

The so-called knowledge actually refers to the fact that its attacks are mixed with the seepage of ghost blood, causing the injured to be poisoned.

The Demon Slayer Corps definitely doesn't know this information.

But this bastard in front of him was deliberately on guard—how did he know? Boss Muzan was very curious.

Amidst the chaotic flashes of sword light, Kiyokawa Izumi seemed to be nailed to the spot, unable to move an inch.