Blindly searching is indeed like looking for a needle in a haystack.
The strategy must change.
Cheng Mo returned to the table, spread out paper and pen, and began to organize his thoughts.
He combined the limited intelligence provided by the Demon Slayer Corps—
Some vague rumors about "mysterious recovery from difficult illnesses" or "a certain low-key doctor's superb medical skills."
And his fragmented memories of the original work, circling several relatively high-probability areas on the Tokyo map.
These areas were either traditional medical clinic clusters, wealthy districts, or areas near Senso-ji Temple with complex population flow, making them easy places to hide.
Next, he no longer performed wide-area scans.
Instead, he would sit silently at high points (rooftops, bell towers, etc.) in these specific areas at night, elevating the perception accuracy of the Eye of Truth to its limit.
He no longer aimlessly sought "demonic energy"—that was too easily shielded.
Instead, he focused on perceiving two more subtle, more unique energy fluctuations:
One was an extremely faint, but inherently cold and evil "demonic energy" residue, which would require an extremely occasional, not fully suppressed energy leak from Tamayo or Yushiro.
The second was "abnormally vigorous or exquisite life energy"—this could be the energy traces that Tamayo's superb medical skills couldn't completely conceal when treating patients, or it could be the unique energy of the talismans and spells Yushiro used.
This was a hunting process that required patience and luck.
Cheng Mo, like the most seasoned hunter, set up his perception traps, waiting for that fleeting glimpse of a clue to appear.
He knew that against an existence as cautious as Tamayo, who had been hiding for centuries, impatience was the most useless emotion.
What he needed was precision and the timing for a single, decisive strike.
Under the night sky of Tokyo, neon lights flickered on, traditional and modern light and shadow intertwined, concealing countless secrets.
Cheng Mo's figure merged into the shadows of the rooftops; only the faint golden glow occasionally swirling in his eyes showed the tedious and exhausting search he was undertaking.
Meanwhile, Tanjirou was in the inn room, guarding and continuing his training, awaiting his teacher's next instruction.
The hustle and bustle of Asakusa continued late into the night.
Cheng Mo stood by the window of the inn room, the jingle of rickshaw bells and the faint music from gramophones drifting up from downstairs.
Tanjirou was already fast asleep on the futon, his breathing steady, but his brows were slightly furrowed, as if even in his dreams he was still training or experiencing the pain of losing his family.
Cheng Mo's fingertips tapped unconsciously on the window frame.
Days of high-intensity perceptive searching had led to genuine mental exhaustion.
This approach wouldn't work.
Tamayo's caution was beyond imagination, or rather, Muzan's very existence was like a thick pall of gloom.
Forcing all who opposed him to develop an extreme instinct for concealment.
He needed leverage, a fulcrum, to draw strength from this era itself.
And not just rely on anachronistic abilities to forcefully confront the situation.
He thought of the Ubuyashiki Clan.
To sustain the operation of a vast organization like the Demon Slayer Corps for centuries, the financial and material resources behind it were certainly extraordinary. They must have incredibly deep roots in the secular world.
Thinking this, he no longer hesitated.
He walked to the table, spread out a sheet of letter paper, and in concise words, explained the current predicament and his needs—
Not direct manpower support, but rather the hope of utilizing the Ubuyashiki Family's secular industry resources in Tokyo, especially in the Asakusa District.
Specifically, their network of contacts related to medicine, in order to more efficiently filter information and pinpoint the target.
He rolled up the slip of paper and pushed open the window.
In the night wind, a jet-black Kasugai Crow glided silently as if merging with the darkness, landing on the windowsill.
Tucking the paper into the thin bamboo tube on the Kasugai Crow's leg, Cheng Mo whispered, "Urgent, deliver to the Master."
"Caw!" The Kasugai Crow responded with a brief cry, flapped its wings, and disappeared.
The reply came even faster than expected.
The next afternoon, just as Cheng Mo and Tanjirou returned to the inn, a Kasugai Crow with slightly ruffled feathers crashed through the window, dropping a thicker bamboo tube.
Cheng Mo took out the paper inside; it contained only one line of elegant yet subtly authoritative handwriting and an address: "Yes, Asakusa District, Sanchōme, 'Jianji Hall Pharmacy,' seek shopkeeper Matsushita Eiichi. He is an old acquaintance of the family, trustworthy, proceed at your convenience."
"Teacher?"
Tanjirou watched his teacher put away the paper, a hint of relief seeming to flash across his face, and couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "Is there a new plan?"
"Mm." Cheng Mo nodded, "Pack up, I'm taking you somewhere."
Jianji Hall had a sizable storefront, its black-and-gold signboard exuding the steady grandeur of a century-old establishment.
The scent of medicine was rich but not pungent, the shop assistants were neatly dressed, and their interactions with customers were polite; everything appeared orderly and deeply rooted.
After Cheng Mo stated his name, the assistant, having clearly received prior instructions, respectfully led the two to a quiet room in the back.
Inside the quiet room, an elder dressed in a dark kimono, his hair meticulously combed, and wearing round-rimmed spectacles, was kneeling before a tea ceremony table.
Seeing Cheng Mo enter, he slowly rose and bowed: "I am Matsushita Eiichi, and you are Mr. Cheng Mo? The Master has already sent word to me."
His gaze calmly swept over Cheng Mo, lingering for a moment on the nichirin blade at his waist without much surprise, finally settling on Cheng Mo's eyes, filled with scrutiny and assessment.
For those who knew of demons' existence, carrying a sword was not unusual.
"Mr. Matsushita, I apologize for the intrusion." Cheng Mo returned the bow, his tone calm.
"This is my disciple, Kamado Tanjiro."
Tanjirou quickly followed with a bow, a little nervous.
This old man looked very serious.
"Please sit."
Matsushita Eiichi gestured for the two to sit and skillfully began to brew tea.
"The Master's letter mentioned that Mr. Cheng Mo needs to seek out a... a special healer here?" He chose his words carefully.
"Yes." Cheng Mo admitted directly, "The target is extremely cautious and skilled at concealment; searching blindly is like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"I heard that Jianji Hall is deeply rooted in the medical community, with extensive connections and well-informed. Therefore, I presumptuously request your assistance, hoping to use this platform to access higher-level medical exchange circles."
Matsushita Eiichi pushed two cups of clear tea in front of Cheng Mo and Tanjirou, pondering for a moment: "Jianji Hall indeed has dealings with many renowned medical experts, research institutes, and even Western hospitals within Tokyo Prefecture, and regularly holds academic seminars. However..."
He paused, his gaze returning to Cheng Mo, "I wonder how much Mr. Cheng Mo understands about medicine? If you are to participate as a consultant or recommended by my Jianji Hall, you may require genuine talent and knowledge to gain trust and avoid suspicion."
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