In truth, neither demons nor Demon Slayers wished to publicize their battles.
For Muzan Kibutsuji, openly revealing his existence would only provoke more "hunts" against him, needlessly increasing the difficulty of survival.
Indeed, if he desired, he could easily cast himself as a shadowy figure controlling the world. But he simply did not care for such things.
Or rather, compared to power or other desires, Muzan's greatest obsession was survival.
To live, at any cost, even if life itself seemed pale and meaningless. His goal in overcoming the sun was not just to claim daylight but to eliminate the only weakness within himself.
Thus, he would never allow the existence of demons to be exposed. If it were not absolutely necessary, he would avoid creating any unnecessary subordinates.
Muzan had his followers, both demons and human servants, but they existed solely as tools in his search for the Blue Spider Lily.
In essence, the Demon King wished to have not even half a "peer" by his side.
The same principle applied to the Demon Slayers, though for a simpler reason.
They could not trust secular governments to act within any ethical boundaries.
Demons consumed humans, feared the sun, and often lost all memory of their previous lives under Muzan's deliberate manipulation, becoming mere puppets.
Yet, demons could live forever.
This single advantage could easily outweigh all other drawbacks.
Demon Slayers refused to gamble with fragile human lives because they had no margin for failure.
If Muzan's power were exploited by the secular authorities, the long-cherished ambitions of the Demon Slayer Corps could be rendered laughably meaningless.
Worse, they might themselves be labeled as "terrorists" and wiped out.
In reality, the Demon Slayer Corps was an armed group with formidable skill, even if they wielded only traditional weapons. Their combat power could surpass that of an entire infantry company.
With sufficient resources and a well-organized support network, as well as hidden special abilities, such a group would always be viewed as a thorn in the side of those in power.
It was almost ironic that, despite being natural enemies, Muzan and the Demon Slayer Corps maintained a tacit understanding.
But the incident tonight involving Murata violated that unspoken rule.
Murata, arrested and confined in a police cell, was first subjected to a brutal beating. Major Kuroda, furious, personally struck the hapless Demon Slayer into unconsciousness.
Luckily, Murata's breathing technique had strengthened his body enough to survive, or he might have died on the spot.
Yet the torment had only begun.
"Treat him well. By tomorrow, I want a full report on everything," Major Kuroda threatened before leaving, removing his blood-stained bandages and picking up his sword.
Murata hung upside down, tied to a wooden frame, his body battered beyond recognition.
His flesh bore deep bruises, his face a swollen mess, and his back torn and scarred from repeated lashes.
Still, this was only the beginning.
Compared to humans, Muzan's methods of torture were terrifying beyond imagination.
In this age of advancing medical knowledge, the capacity to prolong life and control pain was far greater than in the past.
"Boy, I don't know what you've done, but since Major Kuroda wants answers, we'll entertain you properly today," the warden sneered, motioning to the guards.
They injected Murata's neck with a syringe of a white substance called the "Heroine." This drug, although once controlled only decades later, had already seen use in World War I and II.
Its effects were potent four to eight times stronger than morphine, capable of treating pain, depression, bronchitis, and asthma.
Yet its side effects were severe: high addiction potential, and irreversible damage to the cardiovascular, nervous, immune, respiratory, reproductive, and endocrine systems.
Few at the time were aware of the dangers. For a dying Murata, this was a twisted form of "care."
The drug's effects washed away his pain almost immediately, flooding his brain with dopamine.
But the relief was brief.
A torrent of boiling saltwater was poured over his wounds, igniting every nerve with agony.
Having been drugged into a lethargic state, Murata could not mentally resist the torture.
"We have all night to play with you," the warden said, lifting a heated iron rod, saliva dripping, aiming it at Murata's writhing body.
Outside the interrogation room, a small yam vine retracted slowly into the soil, swaying with the wind.
Far away, at Major Kuroda's mansion, Miss Yumiko, who should have been resting in bed, suddenly sat upright, letting out a chilling, cackling laugh.
"Fools, only relying on brute force," a cold voice whispered in her ear.
Yumiko's smile froze, replaced instantly by terror. She dropped to the floor, trembling and pleading with the empty air before her.
"Lord Muzan, I, I, I…"
"You sent a Demon Slayer to the authorities while investigating the misuse of my name. Fool," Muzan's cold voice cut through her, his power forcing her cells into violent, grotesque distortion.
"Do you remember my warning? Anyone who exposes my name or our existence…"
"No! I had reasons! I would use that Demon Slayer to lure out their Pillars and kill them! Lord Muzan, I will prove I am not a coward! Even if they know nothing, they are obstacles. I must start the investigation immediately!"
Her collapsing cells paused briefly. Muzan's voice remained merciless.
"Fail, and you die."
Muzan withdrew his influence, confident in fulfilling his promise. He did not care for lower-tier subordinates.
As trembling Yumiko collapsed back onto her bed, a shadow outside the mansion let out an amused laugh.
"Muzan… so this is the leader of these 'mutants,'" Lan Daotianwu murmured.
He had arrived early, investigating the commotion after several scouts went missing.
Though his magnetic power could not fully read the minds within the mansion, his minor electrical probing allowed him to detect lies and emotional fluctuations within a limited range.
The so-called "mutant," Reiyuko, possessed unusual abilities, a strange appearance, incredible physical resilience, rapid self-healing, and a taste for human flesh.
Though this version was far weaker than the catastrophic mutants of old, those mutants had emerged from the battlefield exposure of magnetic warriors.
This "waste" had no such innate magnetic power, yet Muzan's abilities drew Lan Daotianwu's attention even more.
He sensed no one else present, and Reiyuko's words seemed directed inward, to her own body.
"Remote cellular manipulation… impossible to be so strong," Lan Daotianwu murmured, stroking his chin. Mind communication alone was plausible. Directly crushing cells at such a distance would require at least 500,000 units of power, or a weaker magnetic force coupled with near-perfect mastery.
Such an opponent could crush Lan Daotianwu as easily as an insect. And yet, they had not detected him.
So this was Muzan's special ability: controlling subordinates' cells from afar, communicating telepathically, while the controlled subordinate could rapidly regenerate through cellular reconstruction.
Lan Daotianwu's smile widened with intrigue.
Magnetic rotation was nearly omnipotent, but only for those with sufficiently high power.
Even among the strong, some feats remained difficult.
Muzan Kibutsuji, you have Lan Daotianwu increasingly curious.
He stood, letting swirling leaves carry him, and vanished instantly using the Thousand-Leaf Stealth Technique.
Having unraveled this situation, it was time to move elsewhere.
He was deeply intrigued by confronting Muzan Kibutsuji or his organization.