Demon Slayer: I am a Demon.

As for the heart and neck, they can kill almost instantly.

With a chill running down his spine, Rengoku Kyojuro's understanding of the power of firearms became even clearer. Seeing Pero pull the trigger again, he rolled to the side almost without hesitation.

"boom……"

The bullet struck the spot where the person had just stood, landing on the ground and kicking up clouds of dust.

"Hahaha……"

Seeing Rengoku Kyojuro's pathetic attempts to dodge, Pero couldn't help but laugh: "See that, Rengoku? Your so-called 'breathing technique' for slaying demons, which you're so proud of, and your Nichirin Blade that you've practiced for half your life, are utterly useless against this little firearm!"

While chuckling, Pero suddenly had another rifle in his hand. He quickly pulled back the bolt, fired, and the bullet whistled towards Kyojuro Rengoku, then watched as Rengoku scrambled to dodge.

"Swords and blades require close combat to injure people; they require slashing, charging up power, and fighting hand-to-hand. But firearms, with just a pull of the trigger, can easily tear apart the swordsmanship that you so-called 'pillars' are so proud of."

"All the training you've put in, all the improvements you've made in your swordsmanship, are now useless. No matter how hard you train, can you outrun a bullet? The times have abandoned you."

Peron loudly mocked, as if recalling his past as a human, when he was also a swordsman, having practiced martial arts diligently for a lifetime, and never believing that a swordsman could lose to a gun.

But so what?

When an untrained soldier easily pulls the trigger, he shatters all his swordsman pride and everything he once held dear.

Only then did I realize

No matter how skilled one is with a sword, it is no match for a spear.

Now, watching Rengoku Kyojuro struggling against his gun, dodging like a dog in a pathetic state, Pero sneered loudly, pulling the trigger repeatedly.

Compared to Rengoku Kyojuro, who was in a sorry state, suffering from pain and panting heavily, enduring the imminent threat of death, Pero's demeanor was quite composed. The two fully loaded pistols at his waist were once again in his hands, the muzzles pointed at Rengoku Kyojuro, who had already been hit by bullets twice.

Looking at the blood stained on the swordsman's body and his disheveled appearance.

Peron couldn't help but sneer: "The era of the samurai is long gone! Your swordsmanship, your beliefs, your stupid talk of 'protecting others' are nothing but a joke that crumbles at the slightest touch in the face of firearms."

"Now is the age of firearms, and also the age of Pero."

Before he finished speaking, Pero exerted force with his fingers again, firing three shots in quick succession. The three bullets formed a triangle, sealing off all of Rengoku Kyojuro's space to dodge!

"go to hell!"

Kyojuro Rengoku's pupils suddenly contracted.

Three bullets, left, right, and center. Arranged in a triangle, they blocked all escape routes; each one was too fast for the naked eye to see.

For Kyojuro Rengoku, having already experienced countless life-or-death battles, the instinct for fighting was almost ingrained in his heart, making it easy for him to sense the impending death this time.

The gunshot wound in his left shoulder was burning, the penetrating wound in his right leg was bleeding, and his lungs were silently protesting from the overuse of breathing techniques. His body had reached its limit.

But he hasn't... closed his eyes yet.

The flames of the Breath of Fire reignited in his chest, as if someone had poured a spoonful of hot oil into a dying ember.

We can't retreat any further; if we do, we'll be shot in a vital spot and die sooner or later.

We can't keep hiding any longer; if we do, we'll only be waiting for death.

Kyojuro Rengoku gripped the hilt of his sword, pressing his entire weight onto his hind legs. The broken bones in his shoulder rubbed against his muscles, and excruciating pain shot through his spine like an electric current, but he gritted his teeth, channeling all the pain into the strength to grip the sword.

"Breath of Flames: Fourth Form—"

The flames on the blade changed shape in an instant, no longer a violent burst, but a serpent of flame that meandered and flowed like a living creature, coiling and rotating around the blade, every inch of the flame precisely controlled by the rhythm of the breath.

"The winding path of the blazing flames!"

A flash of light.

The moment metal clashed with metal, Flame Breath, carrying the flames of the Nichirin Blade, slashed at the bullet. The high-speed spinning bullet was split in two on the scorching blade, and the two halves of the shrapnel grazed Rengoku's cheek, leaving two shallow bloody marks on his skin.

But this is only the first one.

The second bullet was already close, aimed at his chest.

After unleashing that strike, Purgatory's body was too slow to retract its momentum. His waist twisted violently, and his entire body burst forth with power like a tightly twisted rope—a bullet grazed his ribs, tore a hole in his uniform, and burned a scorch mark on his skin from the scorching bullet.

But the third bullet.

He couldn't escape.

The bullet entered the left side of the abdomen, just below the ribs.

In that instant, Purgatory felt as if he had been hit head-on by a raging bull—the impact of the bullet pushed him back half a step, the high-speed spinning bullet tearing through his muscles and striking his ribs.

It wasn't a fatal wound, but it was enough to knock an ordinary person down and prevent them from getting up.

Rengoku Kyojuro groaned as blood gushed from his wound, instantly soaking the hem of his clothes at his waist.

After a bullet enters the body, its kinetic energy spreads outwards, much like ripples spreading in all directions when a pebble is thrown into water.

His internal organs were displaced by the shockwave, and a wave of nausea surged in his stomach.

But he stopped.

They didn't retreat an inch.

Peron's smile froze on his face.

Chapter 208 You Should Fall, Rengoku Makijuro

Three bullets, a triangular shot that sealed off all evasive options.

Pero watched as this blood-soaked man slashed away one, dodged another, and took the hit head-on...

Then, she remained standing in front of him and quickly approached him.

He was only three steps away.

"What……"

Perron instinctively raised the pistol in his hand and his finger was on the trigger.

Empty sound.

Click.

The trigger was pulled, and all that came from the chamber was a hollow metallic clang.

We've run out of bullets.

Pero's pupils contracted slightly. He quickly dropped the gun in his hand and reached into the shadow created by the Blood Demon Art behind him, where the gun was located.

They discovered that all the guns that were loaded had already fired. Although there were still bullets left, there was clearly no time to reload.

There was no longer any time to reload the bullets.

Fingers groped within the shadows, and unintentionally touched a metallic weapon. Memories of past human suffering flooded back into his mind.

Those were weapons abandoned by the times.

But at this moment, he had no time to hesitate. Almost immediately, he drew his sword and blocked Rengoku Kyojuro's strike.

Under the moonlight, Pero could also see the weapon in his hand clearly.

A samurai sword.

The blade is long and slender with very clear blade patterns. The rope wrapped around the handle has long since corroded away over the years, leaving only the metal handle.

This is clearly a samurai sword that is quite old.

It was his samurai sword from his human days. He had practiced with it time and time again, and had great confidence in it, never believing that a sword was inferior to a firearm.

But at this moment

It seems that this is the only knife left.

"How ridiculous! What was once a weapon abandoned by the times has now become the last thing we can rely on."

After sighing, Pero raised his head again and blocked Kyojuro Rengoku's Nichirin Blade with another strike. The familiar feeling of holding the hilt of the blade welled up in his heart once more.

That was what he was most proud of during his human years, and what he had always practiced and strived to improve upon... Kendo.

"Then let me use the swordsmanship abandoned by this era to cut off your head."

Another slash blocked Rengoku Kyojuro's attack, and the two men's eyes met in mid-air, with Pero's gaze seemingly even sharper.

"Let me end this battle in the way of a samurai."

As the words fell, shadows began to appear all around and started to crawl toward them.

Rengoku Kyojuro's eyes were wary. He knew how troublesome this Blood Demon Art was because Pero had attacked him with his shadow before.

But at this moment, these writhing shadows did not attack him. Instead, they gathered around Pei Lang and began to climb up his legs, quickly moving up his calves, knees, and thighs...

The shadows coiled upwards around Peron's body like pythons.

"Blood Demon Art - Halberd Chamber - War Wolf Formation".

The shadow covered Peron's waist, wrapped around his chest, and spread along his arms to his fingertips.

Pero's body distorted in the shadows

The bones made a cracking sound.

Muscles bulged, and the figure grew taller.

Hair-like patterns appeared on the surface of the shadow, like a layer of black fur covering the entire body of the wolf.

Pero's head has also changed.

The face was shrouded in shadow, the jaw protruded forward, and the ears appeared pointed.

Like the head of a wolf.

When all the shadows were attached to him, Pero was no longer the figure in military uniform he had been moments before.

He transformed into a giant, upright wolf, its body covered in flowing black shadows, its limbs thick and powerful, its fingertips extending into sharp shadow claws. His eyes gleamed with a ghostly green light through the gaps in the shadows, as cold and sharp as the pupils of a wolf in a winter night.

Rengoku Kyojuro looked at his completely transformed opponent and gripped his sword tightly.

His left shoulder was almost unable to lift, his right leg was in excruciating pain with every weight it bore, and the wound on his side was still bleeding.

But his gaze never left the katana in Peron's hand.

At that moment, a sudden movement occurred, and a swift slash landed on Pei Lang's body.

But the strike didn't hit the flesh; instead, it seemed to have struck a quagmire, absorbing all the attack.