Welcome to the Dounuo Continent

[Welcome to the Dounuo Continent, host Yan Si. We hope you... have fun!]

As the mechanical voice delivered its final syllable in his head, Yan Si was reclining in a lounge chair, using his uninjured hand to count the wooden ceiling beams.

"Have fun?" he repeated, then suddenly laughed.

On his excessively beautiful face, that smile looked so dazzling it was almost ominous.

His death in his previous life had been downright "creative"-one goddamn rotten banana and a free fall. A bona fide mathematical genius, whose solutions could circle the earth three times, had ended up being shipped off to another world by a piece of organic waste destined for nature's recycling bin.

"That welcome message of yours,"

Yan Si raised his middle finger at the empty air, his fingertip pale, blue veins faintly visible.

"how the fuck is it any different from a funeral home wishing me eternal rest?"

[There's a big difference, actually.]

The system's voice was flat and emotionless, yet somehow exuded a distinctly obnoxious air.

[Eternal rest is passive; having fun is active. The system encourages the host to exercise his initiative and create a wonderful life of his own on the Dounuo Continent.]

"Shut up, Snow Leopard! I'm really not in the mood for a language lesson!"

[OK]

Yan Si rose from the lounge chair, the movement tugging at the wound in his left palm. A sharp sting immediately shot through him beneath the gauze.

He hissed, cold sweat beading at his temples, yet narrowed his eyes as though savoring it.

It hurt.

Don't get the wrong idea. He wasn't a masochist, and he wasn't into BDSM.

This body's five senses had been amplified a hundredfold. Pain became so distinct, so dimensional, as though someone had taken a scalpel, stripped out every one of his nerves, and repeatedly toyed with them under a spotlight before mincing them into tiny pieces.

But strangely enough, he "couldn't die."

It wasn't that he didn't fear pain. Rather, whenever it reached its limit, an invisible wall would pull his consciousness back from the brink of the abyss.

[Never die from pain]-that was probably the most decent feature this unscrupulous system had given him. Ah, or possibly the least decent.

Still, not bad~

The wooden window was open a crack. An April breeze swept into the room with the dampness unique to the waterside towns south of the Yangtze, gently stirring his waist-length black hair.

The wind carried the scents of moss, river water, and meat stewing in a distant home. They should have been comforting smells, but his hundredfold-enhanced sense of smell now broke them into countless fragments.

He could tell that too much star anise had gone into the stew, and smell the rust in the third layer of soil beneath the moss.

Yan Si wiped away the tears brought on by the pain and walked to the full-length mirror in the corner.

The person in the mirror made his breath catch again.

His long black hair cascaded to his waist, its slightly curled ends tracing soft arcs in the cross breeze. His eyes were a rare shade of deep purple.

At the very center of his brow sat a vermilion mark, so vivid it was almost uncanny, like some ancient seal, or a merciful dot of cinnabar on a deity's forehead-actually, his mother had suffered an episode and started stabbing wildly with a shard of glass, which had finally pierced the space between his brows. It had hurt quite a bit, but he hadn't dodged.

Because before stabbing him, his mother had hugged him.

A hug was more precious than the pain.

"Tsk." Yan Si lifted his hand, brushing his fingertips over the corner of his reflection's eye. "Like I said, I really am beautiful."

This face looked like his mother's.

That deranged beauty who had suddenly fallen ill at twenty and never lived a normal life again, who would trade slashes with her mentally ill husband at the slightest provocation-or none at all-and occasionally grab her biological son by the throat and ask what kind of thing he was.

In his previous life, Yan Si had inherited her intelligence and... to some degree, her beauty.

He had been six foot one, with broad shoulders, long legs, and a strikingly beautiful face, much like his mother's.

Of course, he was still strikingly beautiful now. He was just fifteen and hadn't finished growing into his looks.

[The system agrees with your assessment, host.]

The system chimed in with some well-timed flattery.

Yan Si raised an eyebrow in satisfaction. "See? There's a reason every emperor needs a eunuch beside him to say nice things."

The system fell silent for two seconds.

[Host, the system has no biological sex and cannot be castrated. If you wish, the system can imitate a eunuch's voice: "Ooh~ Blessings upon you, my lord~"]

Well, well. A Beijing local, too.

Yan Si accepted this without a fuss.

"Sure~"

[I was joking...]

"All right, then. But I do think having a eunuch beside the emperor is pretty nice~"

Yan Si turned and plopped back onto the soft bed, then sprawled lazily, the soft, expensive fabric rubbing against his hair. "Let me see what missions there are."

He propped up his head, and the wooden bed creaked beneath his movement.

[OK.]

The translucent, ghostly blue panel unfolded again, now bearing several additional lines of glaring red text.

[Mission 1: Reach Japan]

[Points: 70]

[Mission 2: Join Jujutsu High]

[Points: 20]

[Mission 3: Become a great curse user]

[Points: 100]

[Long-term mission: Make important characters experience pain]

[Points: 1-1,000 (variable)]

[Ultimate mission: Trade slashes with Sukuna at his peak and win. You can do it, little mango~]

[Reward: 99,999]

Yan Si stared at the panel, unconsciously stroking his chin.

It was a habit of his when he thought.

His brain began working with extraordinary efficiency-70 points, 20 points, 100 points, 99,999 points. Behind those numbers lay weighted values for risk and difficulty.

"Reach Japan, 70 points," he murmured. "Because Japan has the highest density of cursed spirits in the world, combined with my spirit-attracting constitution, the odds of dying as soon as I land... tsk. High risk, high reward. Not bad."

"Join Jujutsu High, 20 points. An entry requirement. That means as long as I can stand in front of them alive, this mission won't be hard to complete."

"Become a curse user..." Yan Si narrowed his eyes. "100 points. Curse users and jujutsu sorcerers aren't the same thing. The latter are civil servants; the former are terrorists. Going from legitimate to criminal doubles the difficulty, and a scrub like me could get squashed on a whim."

Yan Si felt around the bed for his phone and checked the date.

March 7, 2005.

Let's think.

Teacher Gojo was fifteen now? The Gojo Clan's divine child-the Six Eyes.

Arrogant, unrestrained, with an 'I alone am the honored one' personality. He hadn't entered Jujutsu High yet, nor had Suguru Geto whipped him into shape. He had some sense of right and wrong, but apparently not much.

Piss him off, and getting beaten to death would be all too easy.

Ah, Teacher Gojo probably wouldn't kill him. He might just casually kick him a couple of times and leave him half-dead.

Tricky.

As for Suguru Geto, he was arrogant and stubborn to his core, but pretty gentle and polite in person. As long as you didn't go out of your way to be an ass, he wouldn't come after you. Making him experience pain... hmm, he would definitely kill him.

Little Shoko Ieiri could use Reverse Cursed Technique. Her personality was somewhat mature, but she was still a fifteen-year-old enjoying her youth. The problem was that getting on a doctor's bad side would be troublesome.

And he was a scrub~ He might not even be able to beat her right now.

Then there was Toji Fushiguro... ah... forget him. He could easily end up minced meat...

Masamichi Yaga... picking on an honest man. Pretty good...

Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki... they seemed to have all been born already...

He had absolutely no qualms about bullying-scratch that, teasing-little kids.

His gaze settled on the terrifying reward value at the very bottom.

99,999 points.

[Ultimate mission: Trade slashes with Sukuna at his peak and win. You can do it, little mango~]

[Reward: 99,999]

Yan Si's mouth twitched. "Trade slashes with Sukuna at his peak and win? Have you eaten so much shit you've gone insane?"

[Sorry, host. I'm not Old Eight.]

"I don't give a damn whether you're Old Eight," Yan Si sneered. "Do you know what Sukuna at his peak means? He's the power ceiling of Jujutsu Kaisen. Even Teacher Satoru Gojo couldn't give Lord Sukuna his fill of fun. You want a scrub who starts with physical strength 3, speed 2, and cursed energy 0 to trade slashes with him? And 'little mango'? What, am I supposed to end up like Hajime Kashimo?"

A certain mango: ...

[Host, please trust the system's judgment.]

The system's voice suddenly took on a meaningful tone.