2:47 a.m.
The air was cold and dry.
The air was cold and dry. The talismans meant to keep people away were still pasted to the bases of the streetlights, their ink not even fully faded, but they were useless now-the moment the Special Grade embryo died, the entire Attraction Barrier built around it collapsed. Even the streetlights within two hundred meters tripped their breakers once before coming back on.
The Flip Phone vibrated.
Shiu Kong.
[The barrier signal at Shibuya No. 3 Hub just went dead. You?]
Yang Jian typed one-handed: [All cleared. The two in protective suits inside were from Jujutsu Headquarters. So were the eight lookouts outside.
I took care of the bodies. Check whether Headquarters makes any moves tomorrow.]
The reply came thirty seconds later.
[You killed the Headquarters people too?]
[They were in the way.]
The other end went silent for nearly a minute.
[...Let me say this upfront: this one's free. Consider it a friendly warning. How many Sukuna's Fingers do you have right now?]
[Three.]
Another stretch of silence.
[Then you'd better get rid of them fast or find somewhere to hide them. When Headquarters discovers tomorrow that the people in Shibuya are gone, the embryo's gone, and the fingers are gone-Mr. Yang, they won't suspect an outsider. You'll be the first person they think of.]
Yang Jian put his phone away.
There was no hurry to hide the fingers.
If Headquarters wanted to investigate, they could.
He had decided what to do with the three fingers before going underground in Shibuya.
He would keep one on him and toss the other two to Satoru Gojo, letting the white-haired man turn them in through official channels and pick up the credit for intercepting Special Grade Cursed Objects along the way.
As for whether Headquarters would suspect Satoru Gojo-so what if they did? Anyone who dared lay a hand on him had yet to be born.
It wasn't as though this would be Satoru Gojo's first time taking the blame. One more wouldn't strain what goodwill they had.
The ghost domain briefly contracted beneath his feet. Before the air on the Shibuya street could rush in to fill the gap, he was gone.
Inside a dorm room at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
There was only one can of cola left in the fridge. The snap of its pull tab rang crisply through the silent room.
Yang Jian sat on the windowsill, his back against the frame, and pulled up the system panel.
[Current points: 56,470.]
That included tonight's haul-the Grade 3 and Grade 2 small fry across the underground levels had contributed roughly 190 points, and the Special Grade another 1,000.
Total earnings: 1,190.
Nothing spectacular, but that thousand was safely in the bank.
He slowly ran through the numbers in his head.
Ghost Hand cost 150,000, Ghost Lake 300,000. Together, 450,000.
Even if he put all his existing fifty-six thousand toward them, he would still be nearly four hundred thousand short.
Hunting cursed spirits solo-a Grade 3 was worth ten points, ten of them only a hundred. He wouldn't scrape together enough in this lifetime.
There were only two ways to substantially boost his points: milestone rewards from the main storyline, and imprisoning ghosts from paranormal invasions.
The biggest gain from tonight's trip to Shibuya wasn't that thousand points.
It was those two fingers.
The cola was gone.
Yang Jian tossed the empty can into the trash and lay flat, the back of his head pressed into the pillow as he stared at the ceiling.
The ghost domain had never spilled out over a wide area. The ten people from Headquarters had died without unnecessary noise, and the entire fight with the Special Grade cursed spirit had been contained on the third underground level. In theory, the outside world couldn't have detected any record of energy fluctuations.
The only variables were those eight lookouts and two field sorcerers.
Ten lives.
Sooner or later, Headquarters would discover they were gone.
But whether the trail would lead back to him depended on how well Crow had cooked the books.
The Flip Phone sounded again.
This time, the message wasn't from Shiu Kong. It was from Satoru Gojo.
In the group chat.
Satoru Gojo: Hey, can someone explain why all the surveillance feeds at Shibuya No. 3 Hub suddenly went dark? Headquarters is running around like headless chickens. Pretty entertaining.
Suguru Geto followed immediately: When did that happen? You didn't go check?
Satoru Gojo: Who goes out at three in the morning? I'm not a night owl.
Yang Jian locked the screen.
He set the phone to silent and shoved it under his pillow.
Tomorrow's problems could wait until tomorrow.
Then Yang Jian closed his eyes.
He was asleep in three seconds.
Under his pillow, the group messages made the phone vibrate another seven or eight times at intervals before it finally went quiet.
At seven in the morning, knocking woke Yang Jian.
It wasn't a polite knock. Someone was pounding with a fist, three blows in rapid succession with barely a pause between them.
He didn't get up.
"Yang Jian-"
Satoru Gojo's voice.
Even the door couldn't muffle that laid-back air of his, but his tone was different from usual. Something lay beneath it, hard to distinguish as excitement or wariness.
Yang Jian rolled over. The phone under his pillow dug into the back of his head.
The door was pushed open.
It wasn't locked.
The dorm-room locks at Tokyo Jujutsu High were just for show. Nobody at the school locked their doors, and there was no point anyway-if Satoru Gojo wanted to enter a room, neither a lock nor jujutsu could stop him.
"What time did you go to sleep last night?" Satoru Gojo leaned against the doorframe, his black blindfold pushed up onto his forehead, revealing the blue eyes beneath. He held a bag of convenience-store rice balls, the plastic crackling in his grip.
"After three."
"Oh." Satoru Gojo walked in and made himself at home, plopping down on Yang Jian's desk and tossing the bag of rice balls onto the bed. "Then did you read the messages?"
"No."
"Something big happened at Shibuya No. 3 Hub last night." Satoru Gojo unwrapped a rice ball and took a bite. He chewed twice, then went on, his words muffled. "Headquarters sent ten people to keep watch over a Special Grade Cursed Object. This morning, they couldn't reach a single one. The barrier blew out too. The Special Grade embryo's gone, the cursed object's gone, and the people are gone."
Yang Jian sat up, took the bag of rice balls, and rummaged through it before choosing a tuna one.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Satoru Gojo didn't answer. The hand holding his rice ball paused for a beat.
"Because Headquarters called me five minutes ago and asked whether I was in my dorm last night."
Yang Jian peeled off the wrapper and took a bite. The rice was cold, and the tuna filling tasted fishy.
"What did you tell them?"
"I said I was. Went to bed at eleven, had a dream where a bunch of Grade 3 small fry surrounded me-got so bored I woke up halfway through." Satoru Gojo raised one leg and planted his foot on the edge of the chair, lounging as though he barely had any bones. "Then they asked whether I'd noticed any unusual cursed energy fluctuations. I said no."
"And the truth?"
Satoru Gojo stared at him.
In the morning light, those blue eyes looked pale, like faded gemstones, their pupils narrowed to tiny points.
"The truth is, at 2:51 a.m., there was a collapse of cursed energy in the direction of Shibuya. It lasted less than four seconds. Not particularly strong, but clean. Too clean." He stuffed the last bite of rice ball into his mouth and wiped the corner of his lips.
"An ordinary sorcerer couldn't pull off work like that. And a Special Grade cursed spirit couldn't possibly crush itself to death."
Yang Jian chewed his rice ball without responding.
"I didn't tell Headquarters." Satoru Gojo suddenly smiled, easy and relaxed, utterly at odds with the look he'd worn moments earlier. "Because whoever did it, Headquarters is down ten people. I'm too happy about that to care. Those spies the old bastards planted in Shibuya have been annoying me for ages."
He hopped off the desk, walked to the door, and looked back.
"But-"
Yang Jian lifted his eyes.
"If someone happens to have a few extra Sukuna's Fingers on hand," Satoru Gojo said, dragging out his words, letting them fall one by one.
"I suggest getting rid of them as soon as possible. Headquarters is holding an emergency meeting this afternoon. Apparently, even the people at the top have been alerted.
If their investigation reaches Jujutsu High, I can hold them off. But not too many times."
Before you continue