After Suguru Geto left, Yang Jian did not go straight to bed.
He opened a drawer, spread several photographs of black-market contacts across the desk, and examined them one by one.
Most were brokers operating in gray areas, trading cursed tools, selling intelligence, and occasionally taking on dirty work for curse users.
Their intelligence was too low-level. At best, they could locate Grade 2 Cursed Spirit nests. Using those to farm points was like trawling for tiny shrimp.
Shiu Kong was the real hub.
He had a grip on the murkiest channel between curse users and the "Windows." After the Time Vessel Association disbanded, more than half its remaining underground assets and covert contacts had flowed into his hands.
If Yang Jian could turn Shiu Kong into his personal intelligence terminal, he would no longer have to dance to Jujutsu Headquarters' tune for information on cursed spirit haunts of Grade 1 and above.
The problem was-how to find him.
No matter how widely Suguru Geto spread his cursed spirit surveillance network, it would still take time.
An old fox like Shiu Kong would have replaced all his hideouts and contact methods the moment the Time Vessel Association collapsed, vanishing without a trace.
Yang Jian put the photographs back in the drawer and looked down at his right hand.
The Ghost Shadow's current abilities were invading bodies, reading memories, stealing them, and altering them.
Memory alteration came from the Ghost Newspaper, while memory reading belonged to the complete Ghost Shadow.
He did not need to search for a needle in a haystack.
There was one person who would definitely know where Shiu Kong was-or at least how to contact him.
Toji Fushiguro.
Last time, on the stone steps of the Tombs of the Star Corridor, Yang Jian had used his ghost domain to teleport Toji to the Time Vessel Association's entrance to wipe them out.
That deal had stipulated a fifty-fifty split, with Toji finding his own channel to launder the money.
And that channel was almost certainly Shiu Kong.
This was the shortest, most direct lead.
Yang Jian took out his phone.
Toji Fushiguro's number was not in his contacts.
The Sorcerer Killer would never leave his contact information with anyone who had hired him.
But Satoru Gojo had it.
After the Star Plasma Vessel Incident ended, Satoru Gojo had personally approached Toji to discuss transferring custody of Megumi Fushiguro. They must have kept some way to contact each other.
It was just past ten at night.
Yang Jian composed a message and sent it to Satoru Gojo: Got Toji Fushiguro's contact information?
The reply came almost instantly.
Gojo: ? Are you going to kill him?
Yang Jian: Need him for something.
Gojo: What something? Is it more important than me? You've never messaged me first just to chat.
Yang Jian ignored that nonsense.
Three seconds later, Satoru Gojo sent a phone number with a line attached: It's a disposable prepaid number. He called Megumi once last month, and I had someone trace it. No guarantee he's still using it. Want me to come along?
Yang Jian: No.
Gojo: So cold.
Yang Jian closed the chat and entered the number into the dialer.
Yang Jian pressed call.
Ring-ring-ring-
After the fourth ring, the call connected.
No one spoke on the other end. There was only the rough hiss of wind and a faint metallic clink.
"Toji Fushiguro," Yang Jian said first.
The silence lasted two seconds.
"...How did you get this number?" The voice was low and hoarse, as though he had just woken up.
"Guessed."
The man on the other end scoffed. "You guessed."
"Did the money from the Time Vessel Association come through?"
"Why are you asking?" Toji's tone grew wary. "We're square."
"Not yet." Yang Jian leaned against the window frame. "You came back alive, which means you handled the Time Vessel Association cleanly. But you used Shiu Kong to launder the money, didn't you?"
The other end went quiet for a moment.
The wind vanished, as though Toji had stepped indoors.
"You want to find Shiu Kong."
"Yes."
"What for?"
"To buy intelligence. Nothing to do with you."
Toji did not answer immediately.
Yang Jian could hear him chewing something, along with what was probably the rustle of a convenience-store rice ball wrapper.
"That guy went to ground after the Time Vessel Association fell. You can't reach him through normal channels." Toji's voice was muffled, his mouth clearly full of food. "I've got a backup contact phrase, but it's not free."
Just as expected.
Toji Fushiguro was driven purely by money. Everything he did required payment.
"Name your price."
"Five million."
"Yen?"
"Obviously. I don't take yuan."
Five million yen came to roughly two hundred thousand yuan and change.
"Deal. Cash or transfer?"
Toji was clearly taken aback. "...You agreed way too fast."
"If it's too little, you can ask for more."
"..."
The snap of a canned drink's pull tab came through the phone.
"All right. Listen carefully. Shiu Kong's hiding in Kawasaki Ward. There's a pachinko parlor called Silver Lamp. Second floor. That's his temporary base."
Toji took a gulp of his drink.
"The phrase is 'The Time Vessel Association still owes me a final payment.' Say that, and he won't bolt right away."
"You're sure he's still there?"
"I picked up some money there three days ago." Toji's answer was straightforward. "Shiu Kong has this habit. Every time he changes bases, he drags his feet for a full month first, because moving expenses are his least favorite thing to pay."
Yang Jian noted down the address and phrase.
"How do I pay you?"
"The old spot. There are coin lockers beside that ruined apartment building in Adachi Ward. Row C, seventh compartment. Put the cash inside, lock it, and throw the key into the drain next to it."
"Within three days."
"Whatever. I'm not in a hurry." Toji yawned. "Anything else?"
"Your son's been settling in well at Jujutsu High."
The other end fell silent for a moment.
"Nothing to do with me."
With a click, Toji hung up.
Yang Jian lowered the phone from his ear and glanced at the screen.
Paying Toji Fushiguro would take five million, but buying high-level intelligence from Shiu Kong afterward would probably require even more money to pave the way.
He could use the Liar Ghost's necklace to fabricate convincing cash out of thin air, but if those cynical black-market veterans detected anything unusual lingering on the bills, it would only create complications.
Real money was the simplest option.
Besides, he happened to know a ready-made "ATM" who definitely had no shortage of money.
Yang Jian returned to his chat list and tapped Satoru Gojo's profile picture.
Yang Jian: Get fifty million yen in cash ready for me.
Unsurprisingly, the reply was instant again.
Gojo: ???
Gojo: Fifty million? First you ask for Toji Fushiguro's number in the middle of the night, and now you're asking for that much money? Do I look like your personal wishing well?
Yang Jian: Five million is for someone's information fee. The rest is to buy access to Shiu Kong's network. Having extra cash makes things easier. Consider it a loan. Deduct it from the mission fees Jujutsu Headquarters pays me later.
Gojo: Fifty million isn't even pocket money to me. No need to pay it back. But in exchange, you have to tell me what you're doing. A big-money deal involving tens of millions in cash in the middle of the night? I'm very curious! Coming over to pick it up now?
Yang Jian: Be there in thirty seconds.
Gojo: No problem~ I'll be waiting in my dorm. Can you carry that much cash? Want me to get a few large suitcases ready?
Yang Jian ignored his teasing, turned off his phone, and slipped it into his pocket.
He walked to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled on a black jacket.
His gaze swept over the black canvas bag at the bottom of the wardrobe-it contained supernatural items such as the rusty Chopping Knife, the Substitute Doll, and half a Red Ghost Candle.
He left the bag alone. Bringing that kind of heavy firepower to deal with an ordinary man making his living in gray areas like Shiu Kong would be a waste.
With enough money to open doors and strength to intimidate him, Shiu Kong would obediently cough up all his intelligence and covert contacts.
The shadow beneath Yang Jian's feet began to writhe. Scarlet light spread rapidly from him like ripples across water.
A second later, red light flashed, and he vanished from the empty room.
Kawasaki Ward, Kanagawa Prefecture.
The neon lights of Ikegami Nakamidori Shopping Street were still glowing, but there were few pedestrians left.
Yang Jian emerged from the shadow of a utility pole, his jacket collar turned up and his hands in his pockets. He looked no different from an office worker heading home after overtime.
Two hundred meters north.
He counted the street numbers, passing a closed ramen shop and a twenty-four-hour drugstore before spotting his destination.
The Silver Lamp pachinko parlor.
Its metal shutter was halfway down. Dim yellow light spilled from the ground floor, and he could hear pachinko balls clattering against metal channels.
A handful of customers were still killing time inside.
Thick curtains covered the second-floor windows, with a sliver of fluorescent light showing through a gap-someone was there.
Yang Jian did not use the front entrance.
He went around to the fire escape beside the parlor. The rust-speckled stairs creaked faintly beneath his feet.
There was an iron door on the second floor, with a handwritten sign hanging from its handle: Repairs in progress. Temporarily closed.
Yang Jian knocked three times.
A chair scraped inside.
"Who is it?"
The voice was low, with a nervous edge.
"The Time Vessel Association still owes me a final payment."
The chair stopped moving.
The silence lasted about five seconds.
The lock clicked, and the iron door opened a crack.
An eye behind gold-rimmed glasses studied Yang Jian through the gap.
"You're not Toji."
"Toji sent me."
The pupil behind the gold-rimmed glasses contracted.
The gap narrowed by another two centimeters.
"Toji never sends clients to anyone."
"He charged me five million."
The door stopped moving.
Yang Jian could sense the man behind it rapidly weighing the risks against the rewards.
For a broker like Shiu Kong, greed and caution were always locked in a tug-of-war.
Five million meant the visitor had deep pockets. It also meant the job would be no small matter.
The door opened.
The room was small, around twenty square meters, and packed with cardboard boxes and file folders.
A folding bed stood in the corner, with several changes of clothes tossed on it.
An office desk sat in the center. Three laptops were open on it, their screens displaying different data pages.
Shiu Kong himself was younger than Yang Jian had expected.
He looked twenty-five or twenty-six, thin, and dressed in a wrinkled mustard-brown suit jacket over a crew-neck T-shirt.
With gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he looked more like an IT worker driven to the brink by overtime than a central figure in underground intelligence. The glasses were part of one of his cover identities, too.
"Sit." Shiu Kong pointed to the folding chair across the desk, then circled back behind the computers.
Yang Jian did not sit.
He glanced at the laptop screens on the desk.
One was running some kind of encrypted communications software. Another displayed weather radar maps from across Japan. The third-
The instant Yang Jian looked toward it, Shiu Kong snapped it shut.
"Ground rules." Shiu Kong adjusted his glasses. "Tell me what you need first, then we discuss the price. What intelligence are you here to buy?"
"Cursed spirit haunts."
Shiu Kong tapped his fingers twice on the desk.
"A Cursed Spirit Haunt? What grade?"
"Grade 1 and above. The more, the better. Long-term cooperation."
Shiu Kong leaned back, and the chair creaked under the strain.
"Are you a sorcerer?"
"No."
"If you're not a sorcerer, why buy intel on Cursed Spirit Haunts? Going to exorcise them yourself?"
"None of your business."
Shiu Kong fell silent for a few seconds, a calculating look settling over his face.
"Exact coordinates for a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit cost five hundred thousand yen per lead.
"For Special Grade, the price is ten times that, and I can't guarantee accuracy. Those things move.
"My information comes from my observation network across the country. Updates come roughly every three to five days."
"Too slow," Yang Jian said flatly. "I need real-time updates. Notify me the moment a cursed spirit appears, preferably pinpointed to the block."
Shiu Kong's smile stiffened.
"Real time? What do you think I am, a satellite navigation system? My scouts aren't sensors covering every corner-"
"Then expand." Yang Jian pulled a kraft-paper envelope from his inner pocket and tossed it onto the desk. "Five million, paid in advance.
"After that, three hundred thousand for every valid Grade 1 lead.
"Three million for Special Grade. Settled monthly."
The envelope landed beside the keyboard with a heavy thud.
Shiu Kong's gaze fixed on the envelope, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
"You're more generous than Toji."
"Toji buys one-off services. I'm buying a pipeline."
Shiu Kong picked up the envelope, drew out a few banknotes, and spent half a minute turning them over under the desk lamp.
He set the notes down, took off his glasses to wipe them, then put them back on.
"No problem. They're genuine."
He put the envelope into a drawer and locked it.
"All right, we can discuss working together, but I have one condition." Shiu Kong raised a finger. "I only provide coordinates. I won't take part in any field operations, and I accept no liability for casualties caused by faulty intel.
"In other words, if you get yourself killed using my intel, that's not my problem."
"Fine."
"Also, I need your name. In this business, anonymous clients are the biggest risk."
Yang Jian looked at him.
"Yang Jian."
Shiu Kong's hand froze in midair.
That name had been making the rounds in the underground lately, surrounded by bizarre rumors.
The absurdly vast domain during the assassination attempt on the Star Plasma Vessel. The abandoned mall in Funabashi City, Chiba Prefecture, that swallowed people, cleared out in three minutes. Those who went inside came out looking as though they had lost their souls.
Although Jujutsu Headquarters publicly claimed it had been a joint operation by Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, the version circulating through back channels was entirely different-
A ghost belonging to no faction was slaughtering cursed spirits in vast numbers around Tokyo.
"...You're Yang Jian?" Shiu Kong's voice dropped half a pitch.
"What, raising the price?"
Shiu Kong reopened the third laptop he had pushed aside earlier.
The screen displayed a personal dossier. The photo field was blank, and the notes read: "No cursed energy response. Suspected unusual constitution. Close ties to Satoru Gojo. High risk. Avoid contact."
Yang Jian glanced at the dossier, his expression unchanged.
Shiu Kong snapped the laptop shut.
"No price increase." His voice had grown a little dry. "But I need to add a confidentiality clause-your name won't appear on any of my client lists. All our transactions will be handled offline, with no electronic trail."
"Suit yourself."
"Then it's settled." Shiu Kong took an old flip phone from a drawer, tore off the plastic packaging, inserted a new SIM card, and handed it to Yang Jian.
"A dedicated line. Only I can call it. It's disposable; replace the card after a month. I'll deliver the new card through the payout slot of the third row of machines on the pachinko parlor's first floor."
Yang Jian took the flip phone and hefted it.
It was almost weightless.
"When can you give me the first batch of intel?"
Shiu Kong opened the first laptop and brought up a densely packed spreadsheet, his finger sliding rapidly across the screen.
"I have three unconfirmed coordinates for suspected Grade 1s right now, in Saitama, Yokohama, and Nagoya.
"I need forty-eight hours for a second verification.
"If you're in a hurry, I can send you the Saitama lead first. That source is fairly reliable. One of my own people scouted the site."
"Send it."
Shiu Kong quickly sent a text to the flip phone's number.
Yang Jian opened it and took a look.
A string of coordinates, accompanied by a note: Old Quarry in Chichibu City, Saitama Prefecture. Second basement level.
Target suspected to be Grade 1. Active between eleven p.m. and three a.m.
Small clusters of low-grade cursed spirits in the surrounding area.
Warning: two Grade 2 Sorcerers previously disappeared in this area.
Yang Jian slipped the flip phone into his trouser pocket.
"Pleasure doing business."
He turned toward the iron door.
"Wait."
Shiu Kong's voice came from behind him.
Yang Jian did not turn around.
"Toji told me someone transported him to the Time Vessel Association's front gate in an instant." Shiu Kong spoke in a low voice. "Was that you?"
"What do you think?"
Yang Jian pulled open the iron door and stepped onto the fire escape.
The locks clicked shut behind him, one after another.
The night wind swept in from the end of the shopping street.
Standing on the fire escape landing, Yang Jian looked down at the coordinates on the flip phone's screen.
Saitama Prefecture. Chichibu City.
The Old Quarry.
Beneath the skin on the back of his right hand, Ghost Shadow stirred silently.
Yang Jian zipped his jacket all the way up and descended the iron stairs to the ground.
Instead of retracing his steps, he turned into a narrow alley at the end of the shopping street.
The streetlights could not reach inside. The entire alley was pitch-black.
He had one more thing to do.
Five million in cash. The coin-operated lockers in Adachi Ward. Row C, locker seven.
First, settle the remaining payment to Toji. Then-
The flip phone vibrated.
Shiu Kong had sent another message.
[Addendum: there's an Abandoned Shrine three kilometers from Chichibu's Old Quarry. Over the past week, nearby villages have reported seven incidents of livestock dying en masse. Cause of death unknown. The carcasses were dehydrated and shriveled. This may be connected to the Grade 1 lead, or it may be a separate incident. Consider it a bonus for now. No extra charge.]
Yang Jian stared at the words "dehydrated and shriveled" for two seconds.
Low-grade cursed spirits did not cause that kind of death.
He snapped the phone shut, slipped it back into his pocket, and quickened his pace, his shadow trailing an extraordinarily long black streak through the alley behind him.
The harvest would begin tonight.
Before you continue