Lan Daotianwu did not follow conventional sword techniques. For a true master of magnetic fields, techniques and elaborate moves were not something to be deliberately pursued.
Ordinary people relied on martial skills and refined strikes because their bodies were inherently weak. For a magnetic field master, even the most intricate sword moves were laughable.
That was why magnetic field experts rarely pursued so-called "signature moves." Their so-called unique techniques could be understood and replicated by any other true master with a single glance.
It was like the legendary White family technique, the Sea Tiger Explosion Fist. Though feared across the land, a master could comprehend its secrets at a glance, directing energy into an opponent's body and striking vulnerable points multiple times, even dozens or hundreds of times, to deliver explosive damage.
The Sword of Hell followed the same principle. The Heavenly Commander's "one with the sword" approach was effortless for a magnetic field master.
Crescent Moon and Solar Eclipse were fundamentally simple. They were just sequences of weapon strikes targeting weaknesses. The challenge lay in imprinting magnetic determination into the blade, making each strike deliver absolute damage that even cellular regeneration could not repair.
Techniques, after all, were only tools. Whether bombing an enemy from thousands of kilometers away with magnetic force or fighting up close, understanding the secret removed all mystique.
Like the legendary killer whale Oga, his moves were simple and direct, yet he could rival even the Sea Tiger. Learning a technique did not mean one could wield it better than its originator. Magnetic field masters favored their own moves not because they were superior, but because their techniques were infused with their spirit and will.
Magnetic rotation was the force of the universe, a manifestation of the master's own will. True confidence in one's technique gave it limitless strength.
Of course, this applied only to magnetic field masters.
In Lan Daotianwu's era, magnetic field power was weaker, constrained by the solar system. They had to resort to techniques and tricks previously dismissed. Perhaps for this reason, magnetic field experts of his time reached a level of insight and mastery surpassing any previous generation.
Lan Daotianwu was one of them. In his youth, he was the absolute genius of the White family.
But perhaps because of that genius, he could not find the perfect technique for himself, which might explain his past defeats.
Lost in thought for only an instant, Lan Daotianwu's strike came forth.
Sword of Hell: Solar Eclipse
One of the Heavenly Commander's greatest techniques, paired with Crescent Moon as the foundation of the Sword of Hell.
Yet the principle was simple. There was no mystical sword intent, no profound sword path.
Crescent Moon, executed with the Hell Claws extending from the fingertips, sought weaknesses for rapid strikes. Solar Eclipse was even simpler.
Speed.
The essence of this technique was sheer speed. Fast enough to prevent any reaction, fast enough to slice the enemy as if into a box of chips.
The technique's brutality was its simplicity. A master could channel their power and will into it, adding flourishes and tricks. Lan Daotianwu did not. He lacked such strength for now. Even so, with his perfected breathing method and the world's energy, the strike had a distinct character.
Shinobu's eyes widened as she witnessed the impossible.
She saw Lan Daotianwu strike, yet she could not follow the motion. Swift, lightning-fast, beyond the perception of the human eye.
The next moment, the massive flesh giant ignited, or rather, was covered in scorched, blackened embers.
Shinobu had seen this before. The demons who perished under sunlight suffered similarly. Those beheaded by Nichirin blades vanished in agony.
But even that could not compare to Lan Daotianwu's strike. The flesh giant had no head, no obvious weak points. Yet the strike incinerated its cells entirely.
It was as if exposed to the sun itself.
"Ahhh!"
Reiyuko screamed. Not only the flesh giant but even her hidden true body seemed to cry out.
At Asakusa Shrine nearby, she rolled in the flowerbeds outside the torii, as if trying to smother the flames consuming her.
Yet she was not burning. There was no sunlight. Her true body had not been attacked.
And yet, the impossible happened.
Scorched marks appeared on her skin.
Cuts and burns as if by a Nichirin blade, as if by sunlight itself, now marred her flesh.
Deadly and agonizing.
Reiyuko had no understanding of what had occurred. She only knew this: the strike, through the puppet she controlled, had transmitted her will directly to her own body.
She was close to death.
"Lord Muzan! Lord Muzan! Please, save me!"
Reiyuko screamed, begging the god who had granted her life for salvation.
But Muzan ignored her. He had not killed the audacious one who spoke his name or gave him orders.
Because at this moment, Muzan was terrified. Deeply, overwhelmingly terrified.
"Impossible! This cannot be! How can he still be alive?!"
Disguised as a man named Tsukihiko, Muzan fell backward from the table, limbs flailing, his face as pale as death.
Though always pallid, fear drained even the life from his corpse-like visage.
Through Reiyuko's eyes, he did not see Lan Daotianwu. He saw something far worse.
He saw Yuichiro Tsugikuni.
The one who had shattered Muzan's pride and invincibility, forcing the demon king into hiding for centuries, still feared to show his face.
Muzan knew Yuichiro must be dead. Even if he had not died at the hands of Kokushibo, he could not possibly live until now.
Yet what did he see?
An illusion? A trick of his terrified mind?
Muzan struggled to rise, not from shame but sheer dread.
This being's pride and twisted nature mattered not; his fear for his own life surpassed all.
Even in this world, humans might be ants, but one mistake against a breathing sword user could be fatal. Muzan remembered the past, when overconfidence had cost him dearly.
Now, something had resurrected that terror. Someone who knew his name, forcing him out of hiding, giving him Yuichiro's same fear.
A monster, yet again.
"Mr. Tsukihiko, are you alright!"
His disguised wife rushed over in concern, but Muzan's glare froze her in terror. Even the little girl nearby screamed.
Clenching his teeth, Muzan reminded himself: he was still the demon king. He could not show fear.
Sharp tendrils of flesh extended from his back, but he stopped himself from killing. It was unnecessary. A new identity awaited him. No one would find him.
Like a phantom, Muzan vanished into the city shadows. He would not admit his fear.
He considered fleeing the country.
No, he could not.
Killing innocents had been his greatest regret. But he could not abandon this land, the country where the blue spider lily grew.
Leaving his domain would waste centuries of effort and force him to search anew for the flower.
Moreover, he was not blind to humanity's progress. Science had made demons no longer invincible. Without finding the flower, centuries later he might be forced to live like a timid turtle.
Unacceptable.
Muzan had unleashed demons and sought the flower for this reason. He could not stop humanity's progress, but these decades were his last chance.
Resolved and temporarily conquering his fear, Muzan spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Nakime!"
At his command, a paper door opened, and Muzan appeared in the looping infinite castle, with a long-haired woman silently playing a biwa behind him.
Finally back in the safety of his old domain, Muzan exhaled, then commanded sharply:
"Summon all Upper Moons… no, all Crescent Moons!"
"Immediately, at once!"