Early in the morning, Cheng Mo and Tanjirou left the relatively gentle foothills.
The master and disciple began to trek towards the higher altitude, more complex terrain at the base of Mount Fuji.
The air noticeably became thinner and colder.
"Pay attention to your Breathing Technique, Tanjirou," Cheng Mo's voice came from ahead, steady without a hint of breathlessness. "Feel the change in air pressure, adjust your intake volume and rhythm. Total Concentration Breathing is not maintained by brute force; it's precise control."
"Yes, Teacher!" Tanjirou responded with effort, feeling as if his lungs were being squeezed by an invisible hand.
Each inhale required more effort than usual, but when exhaling, he had to maintain that unique, long and deep rhythm, pressing oxygen deep into his blood.
The "refrigerator" box on his back also seemed to have become a few pounds heavier.
Cheng Mo would occasionally raise his hand without warning, a faint, azure electric spark flickering at his fingertips, lightly touching Tanjirou's back or the side of his neck.
"Ugh!" Tanjirou stumbled violently, feeling his breath instantly catch.
His heart felt as if it had been fiercely squeezed, and his vision swam with black spots.
The sensation was not pain, but an extreme, drowning-like suffocation that forcibly interrupted the breathing rhythm he had so painstakingly maintained.
"Adjust back," Cheng Mo's voice rang out coldly, without the slightest fluctuation. "Enemies won't give you a chance to breathe. Find your rhythm in suffocation, let it become your instinct."
Tanjirou gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.
He desperately fought against his body's instinctive panic, trying once again to re-establish that deep, prolonged breath.
Once, twice... He struggled to maintain it under this extreme interference.
He even attempted to further increase the depth and efficiency of his breathing while in a state of oxygen deprivation.
The journey also became increasingly rugged.
They sometimes climbed steep, rocky slopes, and sometimes leaped forward through stream-filled valleys.
Tanjirou had to dedicate a large amount of mental energy to coordinating his steps, balancing his load, and simultaneously maintaining Total Concentration Breathing.
Sweat soaked his clothes, then turned icy cold in the high-altitude wind.
But he was surprised to find that as this cruel training continued, his body seemed to be adapting at an astonishing speed.
Each time he broke free from the suffocating sensation brought by the lightning, his breathing would become a little smoother, and his oxygen utilization efficiency also improved.
His lung capacity, muscle endurance, and even subtle control over his body were all steadily increasing.
The route was not deserted.
Occasionally, they would encounter caravans of horses carrying goods, their jingling bells echoing through the valley.
Tanjirou would learn from his teacher, subtly adjusting his Breathing Technique in advance to appear less disheveled.
They silently walked past the curious merchants who scrutinized them.
Once, they passed a small village nestled on the mountainside.
Several children playing saw them, especially the strange box on Tanjirou's back, and pointed at them curiously.
An old farmer leaned on his hoe, watching them walk past, a hint of worry in his cloudy eyes: "Sirs, the path gets harder further up, and... the mountain hasn't been peaceful lately. I heard there are man-eating things at night. It's better to turn back soon."
Cheng Mo nodded slightly in response, but his steps did not falter.
Tanjirou, however, solemnly thanked the old farmer: "Thank you, old man, we will be careful."
After leaving the village, Tanjirou couldn't help but ask in a low voice: "Teacher, the man-eating things he mentioned..."
"Mm," Cheng Mo responded. "It should be nearby. Get yourself ready; it will be your next practical target."
Tanjirou's heart rate suddenly accelerated, with both tension and a faint sense of anticipation.
On the afternoon of the third day, following the map's markings, they arrived at an area where the trees were exceptionally dense and eerie.
There wasn't even a proper path here, only small trails trodden by wild beasts.
A faint, subtle scent of decay permeated the air.
Tanjirou's nose twitched, his expression instantly turned serious, and his hand subconsciously gripped his sword hilt.
"Teacher, there's a smell... it's a demon..." His voice was very low, with a barely perceptible tremor.
Cheng Mo said nothing, but a faint glimmer flashed in his calm eyes.
The Eye of Truth silently swept across the front.
His gaze penetrated layers of branches and leaves, finally locking onto an abandoned hunter's cabin almost completely covered by vines, located down the distant hillside.
A very faint, yet inherently chilling, energy field permeated the area around the cabin.
"Mm, found it," Cheng Mo withdrew his gaze. "A relatively weak individual, entrenched there, perfectly suited for you."
He looked at Tanjirou: "Go, Tanjirou, use everything you've trained for these past days to defeat it. I'll watch from here."
Tanjirou took a deep breath and nodded firmly.
He carefully set down the box on his back and slowly drew the military saber Cheng Mo had given him.
The blade gleamed coldly in the dappled light of the forest.
His eyes sharpened; fear still existed, but there was more of a resolute determination.
Following the increasingly clear stench, he moved silently towards the abandoned cabin like the most vigilant hound.
Cheng Mo stood still, his figure seemingly blending into the shadows of the forest.
Only the Eye of Truth, like a precise radar, firmly tracked Tanjirou and the movements inside the cabin.
The cabin door had long since rotted and collapsed; inside, it was pitch black, exuding a stronger smell of mildew and blood.
Tanjirou held his breath and cautiously approached the doorway.
Just as he peered inside—
"Awooo!"
A dark shadow, accompanied by a foul wind, suddenly lunged out from the shadows within the cabin!
It was a humanoid demon, but it moved on all fours like a beast, its claws sharp and black, saliva dripping, and its murky eyes held only pure hunger and madness!
It was fast!
Tanjirou's pupils contracted, but the training of recent days showed its effectiveness at this moment.
His body instinctively leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the fatal pounce.
His military saber was held horizontally in front of him, and his Breathing Technique instantly elevated to Total Concentration!
His heart beat powerfully, oxygen continuously supplied to his entire body, and a sense of strength surged within him.
"Roar!" The demon, missing its attack, let out an enraged roar and lunged again, its sharp claws slashing, raising a chilling wind.
Tanjirou concentrated on responding, his steps agile as he moved in the open space in front of the cabin, dodging the attacks.
He tried to counterattack, his military saber slashing at the demon's arm, but it only left a shallow wound.
Black blood gushed out, but the wound quickly wriggled and healed.
Such tough skin! Such fast regeneration!
Tanjirou's heart tightened.
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