Chapter 229: Where Is Marcus?

"Demon!"

The bloodcurdling scream unleashed chaos in the Village.

Lanterns rolled across the ground and the wind scattered the sparks of fire through the mass of people fleeing in terror.

Into the middle of the street burst a monstrous fish over six and a half feet long, with green skin covered in protrusions and a ceramic jar fused to its back.

It advanced on all fours, flesh and dirt embedded in its claws, straight toward a man paralyzed on the ground.

The man tried to defend himself with a trembling katana as he crawled backward.

"Help..."

A guttural gurgling burbled up from the monster’s throat, like a cruel laugh, as it scored the tiles with its claws.

"Drop dead, monster!"

A figure burst from an alley and brought a sword strike down on the beast’s neck.

However, the blade barely penetrated a third of the way before getting stuck.

Caught off guard, the slayer had no time to react: the monster dealt him a swipe that, amid the crunching of bones, sent him flying.

His body crashed through the wooden door of a nearby house and lay motionless, a thread of blood trickling across the floorboards.

The villager went pale. That swordsman was a guard sent to protect them, and he hadn’t withstood a single blow.

The strange fish turned its head and advanced toward him again, exhaling a fetid stench from its throat.

Desperate, the man looked around for help, but the horror was repeating everywhere: on the rooftops and in the streets, deformed fish with two or four legs proliferated, some even with human arms.

The slayers were falling one by one, bloodying the walls.

Knowing he was done for, he dropped the katana and shut his eyes.

But just as the enormous mouth opened to devour him...

Swish

’Wind Breathing, Second Form: Claws-Purifying Wind!’

The villager opened his eyes in time to see multiple green gusts slice through the air over his head.

In a second, the fish was cut into several pieces that dropped heavily to the ground, staining it with black blood.

He lifted his gaze toward his savior.

Seen from behind, with white hair, a fluttering haori, and a green sword still dripping blood, the figure commanded absolute respect.

"Wind... Wind Hashira..."

"Run," Sanemi ordered without turning around.

The man got to his feet with difficulty, stumbled a few steps, and ran.

Meanwhile, a voice echoed out of the darkness.

"Well now... So this is the Wind Hashira. What a fast blade. How about we try this?"

In an instant, hundreds of needles shot out from three different angles.

Unfazed, Sanemi moved his katana so fast that it created a wall of steel; sparks flew everywhere as the needles ricocheted off the walls and the ground without ever grazing him.

Tracing the trajectory of the attack, he fixed his eyes on the heights.

Three giant golden fish floated in the air with their gullets swollen, ready to spit out a fresh barrage.

’Serpent Breathing, First Form: Winding Serpent Slash.’

A serpentine stroke cut across from one side. It wasn’t a straight line, but a curved trail that slipped through the fish’s blind spot.

Boom

The fish burst in unison, scattering scales and viscera. Obanai landed after a pirouette and flicked his katana to clean the black blood off the blade.

"Another one’s arrived," that voice said again, now with a certain glee. "Is this the Serpent Hashira?"

A ceramic jar rolled out of the shadows.

It settled mouth-up, and two hands gripped the rim to hoist the rest of the body out.

Then a head emerged from inside: its features were scrambled, with the eyes on the forehead and the mouth in the eye sockets.

Sanemi immediately recognized the characters engraved in its pupils.

Upper Rank Five—Gyokko!

"What a great honor...," Gyokko murmured as he contorted his little hands on his way out, "to face two of you at once..."

Halfway through the sentence, the air behind him distorted.

Swish!

’Mist Breathing, Fourth Form: Shifting Flow Slash!’

A hidden flash launched in a grazing motion toward Gyokko’s neck: so fluid and fast it left no trace.

However, this surprise attack produced no substantial result.

Before the mirage that was fading away, Tokito sheathed his sword and looked back without altering his expression.

"Well, well..." Gyokko’s voice echoed from thirty feet away out of a new jar, laden with relief. "I nearly didn’t live to tell it."

He crawled out and gave Tokito a smile.

"Now there are three... Ah, no, the fourth just arrived."

A shout burst in from the corner. Mitsuri, brandishing her peculiar sword, arrived after killing a fish.

"Sorry... I went for my katana and fell behind."

She was panting, her forehead sweaty, but no one reproached her for the delay.

Everyone’s eyes stayed fixed on the demon.

Gyokko looked them over. "One... two... three... four Hashira... Still one missing."

"Killing you doesn’t take anyone else," Sanemi pronounced coldly.

Finding himself surrounded by the four put him on edge, but Gyokko had confidence to spare.

A distant voice echoed behind them.

"Gyokko, step aside."

He bowed his head and yielded at once. "Yes, Muzan-sama."

’MUZAN?!’

The four gripped their katana in unison.

Out of the shadows advanced a figure in a black suit and top hat, leaning on a cane.

Behind him followed a hunched old man, hands hidden in his sleeves, coming forward with trembling steps.

Muzan stopped and raised his gaze. The moonlight revealed his pale features and a pair of red eyes that gleamed with mockery.

In that instant, the surrounding air felt as if it had been sucked away.

Sanemi’s breath caught, and Obanai’s hand began to sweat on the hilt. Muichiro’s absent gaze fixed on the progenitor of demons with absolute alertness, while Mitsuri trembled.

"Where is Marcus?"

Muzan asked, directing the question at both the Hashira and his demons alike.

At the slayers’ silence, Gyokko began to sweat. "Muzan-sama... This morning I saw him enter the village. I’ve watched the exits the whole time and he hasn’t left; perhaps..."

"Be quiet."

Muzan struck a sharp blow with his cane and swept his gaze over the four. "If he’s not here, all the better. I’ll finish off these nuisances first."

Rrrip! Rrrip! Rrrip!...

The suit on his back tore and a dozen bone whips sprouted out.

In that instant, not only did the wind cease, but even the firelight dimmed, crushed by his presence.

As they watched him assume his combat stance, the overwhelming aura smothered the Hashira with unprecedented force: the mere sensation of having him in front of them was equal to the imminent impact of Gyomei’s hammer against their faces.

A single second of distraction... and they’d be dead.

If the four of them together felt such oppression... how the hell had Marcus managed to cut off his head?

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