Ghost Wall

The air in Tokyo's Adachi Ward was bitterly cold beneath the night sky.

The normally muggy summer night seemed to have been drained of all warmth in this area.

Satoru Gojo stood on the lawn, holding the solid-gold Body Bag.

Beside him sat the young Megumi Fushiguro, who had fallen to the ground, and a Divine Dog curled into a ball, half its body missing.

He lifted his head, looking over the rims of his glasses.

Up on the utility pole, the Chopping Knife in Yang Jian's hand was fully exposed in the moonlight-its wooden handle gleamed with a worn patina, and dark red rust covered the blade. It looked for all the world like a piece of junk dug out of some country woodshed.

But the Six Eyes were screaming a warning.

There was no cursed energy on that knife, not even the slightest fluctuation, yet it gave off an aura that made his scalp prickle.

It wasn't killing intent, nor the oppressive weight of cursed energy.

It was something more primal.

One more thing he couldn't understand.

Yang Jian leaped down from the utility pole without another word.

Red light flashed, and his figure vanished into the night, plunging into the thick, gray-white fog.

Satoru Gojo adjusted his sunglasses. The Six Eyes pierced the surface of the fog, barely catching a glimpse of what was happening inside.

Yang Jian's shadow had changed.

More precisely, the pitch-black silhouette that had peeled away from behind him had changed.

Ghost Shadow.

Satoru Gojo's pupils contracted.

Everything that had touched the walls before, whether a living person or a shikigami, had been completely absorbed on contact.

But when Ghost Shadow pressed against them-it didn't dissolve.

The two forces clashed fiercely across the wall. The gray-white surface tried to spread and devour, while the black Ghost Shadow refused to yield an inch.

The stalemate lasted less than half a second before the gray-white surface retreated an inch.

"Ghost against ghost, huh..." Satoru Gojo murmured, his tone tinged with an indescribably complicated feeling.

His prized Limitless couldn't even scrape a speck of dust off those gray walls.

Yet Yang Jian's Ghost Shadow had the upper hand.

Inside the thick fog.

Yang Jian withdrew Ghost Shadow and swept his gaze across the ground beneath his feet.

"Looks like this ghost can grow by 'eating' other ghosts."

He spoke to himself, his tone as flat as if he were reading an instruction manual.

"Good thing there aren't any other ghosts nearby for it to swallow. Otherwise, this would be trouble."

Ghost Shadow covered the entire ground like a layer of black mercury, filling every crack and depression.

Yang Jian raised the Chopping Knife.

The blade came down.

A gap burst open in the gray-white wall before him, and fragments fell without a sound.

A second slash, a third, a fourth.

An intact ghost wall was hacked to pieces beneath the Chopping Knife, revealing the constantly moving gray-white form behind it.

Ghost Shadow spread over the fragment-strewn ground and touched the traces left within the wall.

Footprints.

The medium was triggered.

A blurry silhouette appeared in Yang Jian's pupils-the true body of Ghost Wall, a humanoid figure entirely covered in gray-white, its whole body pieced together from countless faces twisted in agony.

The Chopping Knife rose and fell.

The first slash took the right arm.

The second took the left leg.

The third split the torso down the middle.

Yang Jian delivered six slashes in succession, his movements crisp and efficient, not one stroke wasted.

Ghost Wall's true body was forcibly dismembered into six pieces. Each writhed and struggled on the ground, the faces sculpted across them letting out silent screams.

But they could no longer piece themselves back together.

That was the Chopping Knife's supernatural property-a dismembered ghost's supernatural strength diminished because its own puzzle had been broken apart.

The next second.

From Satoru Gojo's perspective, it looked as though someone had pressed pause on the night sky over all of Adachi Ward.

There was no explosion, no display of light.

A straight black line split open down the center of the thick gray-white fog that blanketed a two-hundred-meter radius.

The line was extremely thin, yet it cut through the entire area.

The fog began to leak.

Like a punctured balloon, the gray-white fog poured wildly through the crack, dissipating completely the instant it touched the air outside.

The old apartment building that had been swallowed reappeared in the night, water stains from the retreating fog still lingering on its walls.

The missing lights, sounds, and warmth all returned at once.

Satoru Gojo watched Yang Jian emerge from the dissipating fog, carrying the Chopping Knife in his right hand and a Body Bag in his left.

"You got it inside?" Satoru Gojo raised an eyebrow.

"I got it inside." Yang Jian put the Body Bag away and casually slipped the Chopping Knife back into his waistband.

"That simple?"

"You think it was simple?" Yang Jian glanced at him. "If it was that simple, why were you lying in a bag doing nothing?"

Satoru Gojo opened his mouth, but for once, he didn't immediately have a comeback.

Yang Jian turned his gaze toward the young Megumi Fushiguro, slumped on the grass beside them.

The little boy was filthy all over. The Divine Dog that Ghost Wall had half dissolved had already turned into a black shadow and retreated beneath his feet.

He silently watched the two strange adults before him, his eyes holding a wariness no child his age should have possessed.

And an unusual calm.

"He looks exactly like that bastard." Satoru Gojo scratched his hair, walked over to Megumi Fushiguro, and crouched in front of him, tilting his head as he studied him. "Hey, kid. What's your name?"

"...Megumi Fushiguro." The boy's voice was a little hoarse, clipped and stubborn.

"Fushiguro, huh-" Satoru Gojo deliberately drew out the last sound. "Did you know your dad sold you to the Zenin Clan?"

Megumi Fushiguro's eyes darkened, and he clenched his fists.

"If I go to the Zenin Clan, will Tsumiki be happy?"

"No. Absolutely not," Gojo answered seriously.

After hearing Gojo's answer, Megumi Fushiguro clenched his fists even tighter.

Gojo then pointed at himself, an outrageously cocky grin curling his lips.

"But I happen to be in a pretty good mood today."

"Want to come with me? The Zenin Clan is a trash heap that reeks of rot. Go there, and you'll turn into an idiot too."

Megumi Fushiguro raised his head and looked at the strange silver-haired man.

Yang Jian stood to the side with the Chopping Knife tucked behind his waist, quietly watching the scene.

At this moment, Megumi was only a child sold off by his father, unable even to protect his own sister.

"Gojo," Yang Jian said.

Satoru Gojo looked back.

"How are you planning to explain this to Jujutsu High?" Yang Jian asked. "The Zenin Clan won't easily let go of a promising kid with the Ten Shadows Technique."

"That's my problem." Satoru Gojo stood up and brushed the dust off his knees. "You think those old fossils in the Zenin Clan can stop me?"

"I'm not asking whether you can beat them."

Yang Jian's calm gaze settled on Satoru Gojo.

"I'm asking whether you've thought about how to raise a child."

Satoru Gojo froze.

Beside him, Megumi Fushiguro also raised his head and gave Satoru Gojo an appraising look.

That look was exactly like his father Toji Fushiguro's.

"...Why do you sound just like Geto?" Satoru Gojo curled his lip.

[The second supernatural incursion has ended. Please wait for the main storyline...]