Demon Capital Slayer

Chapter 30 The Purple King's Love
The ringing stopped.

The fog dissipated.

The deadly dance of knives and whips fell silent.

Picking up the scarred dancer's head, Yujian saw a pair of clear eyes. They were like two exquisitely polished gems, set in a scarred and ugly face.

This is a worthy opponent, whose skills and tactics are both excellent, and the combination of the two will cause Yujian a lot of trouble.

However, despite the opponent's formidable strength, Shura's Dream remained completely unresponsive, as if he had only defeated a wisp of air.

Yu Jian was not disappointed; on the contrary, he had new ideas about the working logic of the three-no cheat.

What was originally just a guess, he can now roughly determine what the 'fuel' needed for the Dream of Asura is.

As we all know, if a stove won't light, it's either because it contains non-combustible waste like the one in "Bo O Legend" or because there's simply no fuel.

Intertwined with memories, it needs to be extracted from the defeated; besides the soul, what else can simultaneously meet both of these elements?

Oh, it can't be that you directly extract the essence of the other party's existence, can it?

That's some truly evil power. I wonder what kind of being created it for what purpose. Oh well, there's no point in thinking about it now...

It's not surprising that the creatures in the painting, being newly created beings, have no souls. Aside from a few people from the mortal world, perhaps only the seven color kings possess a part of a human soul.

In other words, there is a high probability that special items like oil-mixing knives and paintbrushes, which are based on the local world, will not be effective against it?

The Netherworld is truly wondrous...

Whether it was due to the poison gas or not, Yu Jian's thoughts were unusually scattered, almost like he had drunk a lot of strong liquor.

Fortunately, the body's overall strengthening naturally includes immunity and resistance, and the dose of poison gas he just inhaled was very small, so the effects were quickly eliminated through the body's spontaneous metabolism.

Hearing shouts of battle coming from the floors below, Yu Jian knew that the White Warriors were fighting against the enemy forces that were returning to defend.

"Stop overthinking," Yu Jian told himself, secretly noting down the special features of the Asura's Dream, intending to investigate it further later.

As for the present, let's focus on doing what we can do.

Lifting the dancer's head, Mikasa strode coldly toward the top floor of the castle tower. The staircase wasn't completely destroyed; with a few leaps over the broken sections, he finally reached the seventh floor.

Unexpectedly, there were no ambushes on the top floor. Instead, it was filled with melodious traditional music, and countless graceful figures were dancing. The air was also filled with a nauseatingly sweet smell, mixed with a faint, pungent stench.

Separated by only one floor, they present two completely different scenes.

The fight to the death on the sixth floor and the battle of armies outside the castle tower had nothing to do with the Purple King sitting on the seventh floor.

A middle-aged man who looked remarkably like Yi Se Lan lay reclining beside the throne, haphazardly draped in a black Wu robe. What should have been a white lining was instead a bare chest revealing two rows of protruding ribs. There seemed to be something raised behind his back; upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a pair of incomplete wings, most of their feathers missing, leaving only an ugly and bizarre appearance.

The Purple King's eyes were unfocused, his mind wandering, completely oblivious to the performance around him, as he picked up his wine glass and took a big gulp.

Beside him was a box made from a single piece of jade, containing a similarly colored, viscous green liquid. Next to it was a bottle of fine wine with a strong, alcoholic aroma. The two had been mixed by the Purple King to create a murky drink, the strange smell of which could be detected even from a distance.

Yu Jian vaguely guessed what it was and frowned. Some things, although they can bring people a strong hallucinogenic stimulation, are actually highly poisonous, capable of poisoning both the mind and the body at the same time.

"Oh, what a handsome young man." The Purple King laughed heartily, raising his cup in a toast from afar, with saliva still dripping from the corner of his mouth, making him look extremely mad.

Noticing Yujian's cold gaze, he was neither angry nor afraid. Instead, he stumbled forward two steps, casually spreading his arms to reveal his unprotected chest.

"Don't look at me like that. They're just small props to inspire artists and help them create even greater works."

“Anyone who needs this kind of thing doesn’t deserve to be called an artist,” Yu Jian said, enunciating each word clearly. His anger grew stronger, but his expression only grew colder.

Although I don't have the talent to become a true painter, I can't stand seeing others use such disgusting things to smear the profession I once loved, and I despise those scum who do ugly things in the name of art.

With a blank expression, Yujian tossed the dancer's head into the arms of the Purple King.

The latter first let out a very embarrassing scream, but then its voice turned to surprise, and it actually raised its head high and even brought it close to its face.

"Oh, my dancer, my beloved concubine, you are still so beautiful, even more beautiful than when you were first painted."

Yu Jian paused for a moment, then immediately drew his weapon.

This guy also has paintbrushes; we can't let him live!

"Don't rush, don't rush, artistic creation takes time." A paintbrush slid out from the Purple King's wide sleeve, and with just a light wave, the graceful figure twisting in the surrounding mist immediately let out a shrill scream.

Immediately afterwards, they or they transformed into contorted figures similar to the Scar Dancers, wielding long whips, scimitars, and other weapons to separate the Imperial Sword from the Purple King layer by layer.

At this moment, Yujian realized that the faces they were holding, which still retained human features, looked familiar.

He already knew that this world had similarities to his previous life, including various works of art, and that the actors involved also had counterparts in other worlds.

Thus, Yujian gained a full understanding of the Purple King's aesthetic sense and his shrimp-headedness, and expressed his comprehension.

This guy still managed to open an impartial chopsticks business during wartime. His tastes are quite Westernized, and he's quite discerning. He has a sophisticated old-fashioned aesthetic, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still a chopsticks business.

The beauties from those past films now have empty expressions and stiff movements, with only their faces still displaying the unchanging beauty etched in the old film reels.

"Does it look familiar? It's just an ape imitating humans dancing. No, it's not even an ape. At best, it's just a puppet, just a shadow."

“There is a natural difference between it and true ‘beauty’, a gap comparable to the long journey from the East to India.”

"I can't get through this! I can't get through this! I can't succeed! I can't succeed!" The Purple King suddenly burst into tears.

"Imitations, all false echoes! Vanish, all vanish from my ears!" The Purple King brandished his paintbrush once more, and the beautiful women, twisted into monsters, let out a mournful cry before turning into mist and merging into the surrounding smoke and clouds.

Yu Jian remained silent, completely baffled as to what this guy was thinking.
Well, I guess this is a poisonous insect...

Crack! The floor shattered, and the boy stepped into the ground, his figure instantly disappearing from the spot.

As if sensing something, the Purple King stood still with a strange smile on his face. He opened his arms as before, exposing his emaciated chest to the blade.

puff-

The sound of weapons piercing flesh and blood.

With a flick of his sword, he easily pierced the heart of the Purple King.

"That's great!" The decadent king, who also had a blue face, shouted loudly, like a howling owl.

"In this way, there is no need to... be afraid..."

"This city, this kingdom, will itself become prey for others. The monsters of the underworld are lurking outside with knives and forks. Gods, demons, evil spirits, who knows what they really are? Let the poor worms who still want to struggle deal with them all, hehehehe—ga!"

With his last breath, the Purple King perished.

The paintbrush fell from his hand, leaving its final mark on the ground.

(End of this chapter)