Closing the net

On the mountainside in Sagamihara.

A damp chill hung in the cedar grove.

2:47 a.m.

Yang Jian leaned against a tree trunk, turning the knob on his radio with his index finger, keeping the volume just high enough to hear clearly.

Faint static crackled over the channel, carrying the idle chatter of guards changing shifts, all of them weary from staying up late.

Shiu Kong's intel was accurate.

Kagekatsu Uesugi and his men had spent two days at the old factory in Ichikawa, inspecting everything from the petri dish bases to condensation in the air-conditioning pipes. They had practically been ready to dig up the ground and sift through it again.

They had found nothing.

At five that afternoon, the final update had confirmed it: Kusumoto had issued no transfer order. The refrigerated truck had sat idle in the mountains for three days, and its driver had been so bored that he had gone down the mountain twice to buy boxed meals.

The guard schedule had not changed. The shift change was at four in the morning.

Yang Jian lit up his phone screen.

2:51.

He stood, tossed the radio into his pocket, took the black cloth bag off his shoulder, and unzipped it. The handle of the Chopping Knife emerged into the cold air, reeking of rust.

Three days ago, he had only taken photos.

Tonight, he had come to collect.

His ghost domain spread out.

The red light stayed within half a meter of his feet, creeping forward along the soil.

Wherever the red light passed, fallen leaves remained undisturbed, and dew continued dripping from the tips of the grass.

Amid the overlapping tree shadows, the spot where he had stood was suddenly empty.

A second later, a figure appeared at the base of the Prefab House's north wall.

A yellow talisman was pasted to the roll-up door.

Touching it would trigger a cursed technique's detection mechanism.

Yang Jian did not use the door. He bypassed it directly with his ghost domain.

On the first basement level, aging fluorescent tubes flickered in the corridor.

Two guards sat in folding chairs. The one on the left was snoring; the one on the right was looking at his phone.

A black shadow rose from the floor.

The snoring guard's head lolled to one side, and he sank into a deep sleep. The other guard's thumb froze in midair as his eyelids drooped shut.

Ghost Shadow pressed his palms against the backs of their heads, reaching back four hours and wiping their memories.

Yang Jian walked past them without breaking stride.

An iron door barred the second basement level.

A four-digit mechanical combination lock sat on the cold iron surface blocking his path.

He did not stop.

His ghost domain expanded.

With his next step, his foot was already on the floor beyond the door.

His ghost domain contracted, and the world returned to normal.

Air chilled to a constant sixteen degrees struck his face, carrying the stench of formalin mixed with rotting flesh.

Rows of ceiling lights shone brightly.

Air chilled to a constant sixteen degrees struck his face, carrying the stench of formalin mixed with rotting flesh.

Rows of ceiling lights shone brightly.

The shelves lining the wall were all empty. All sixteen petri dishes had been removed, bases and all.

After the Ichikawa site had been taken out, Kusumoto had withdrawn the experimental specimens from the outlying facilities first. It was the most basic damage-control measure.

The withdrawal had been rushed. They had not even wiped away the nutrient solution stains beneath the shelves.

Yang Jian walked straight farther inside.

There was another door at the very back.

The temperature here was much lower.

Three sealed containers sat in a row on a stainless steel worktop, each marked with a number.

A-1. Inside its transparent casing lay a thick, shriveled finger, its nail gray-black and its skin cracked.

Sukuna's Finger.

A-2 also held a finger.

A-3 held a lump of grayish-purple living flesh.

Yang Jian stood before the stainless steel worktop.

The lump was the size of a fist and had no organs. Every three seconds, it contracted inward.

A layer of yellowish-brown mucus coated the inner walls.

Leaving it alive would only invite trouble.

He unscrewed A-1's sealed lid.

The finger lay in its recess, playing dead.

The system panel stayed silent. It would not take this junk.

Yang Jian took out the lead box he had prepared and tossed the finger inside.

He did the same with A-2.

The two fingers clacked against each other inside the lead box. Ghost Shadow's icy chill seeped through the gaps and filled the box, cutting off every route through which cursed energy could radiate outward.

Counting the two gathering dust in his ghost domain, he now held four Special Grade Cursed Objects.

A-3 was next.

Yang Jian did not open the lid.

He drew the Chopping Knife from the black cloth bag.

Its rust-covered surface reflected none of the fluorescent light, and its edge was as blunt as a strip of iron.

He held the Chopping Knife above the container.

The grayish-purple writhing mass suddenly began twisting faster inside its container, going from one contraction every three seconds to two every second.

Yang Jian did not hesitate.

The blade fell.

The Chopping Knife passed through the container's outer wall, sliced through the seal, through the nutrient solution, and through the grayish-purple writhing mass.

The instant the blade touched it, the thing burst apart.

It was trying to divide.

As the grayish-purple lump was cleaved in two, it sprayed mucus in every direction. Each droplet rapidly swelled after hitting the floor, trying to survive on its own.

Yang Jian was ready.

Red light erupted from beneath his feet, covering the entire room.

Fifth-layer ghost domain-all the splattered mucus, torn flesh, swelling tissue, and the specimen itself vanished from reality, imprisoned inside his ghost domain.

A system notification popped up.

[Unknown living specimen ×1 killed. Points +200]

Yang Jian put the Chopping Knife back into the black cloth bag.

The room was spotless, the worktop bare except for the three impressions the containers had left behind.

Yang Jian turned and headed back.

He turned away and left the second basement level.

As he passed the guards, the dozing one shifted position, and his phone fell to the floor.

Yang Jian bent down, picked it up, and placed it beside his hand.

3:26 a.m.

Yang Jian retraced his route from the base of the Prefab House's north wall to the cedar grove.

The yellow talisman remained firmly pasted to the roll-up door. Over the radio, a guard from the next shift asked whether anyone wanted a late-night snack.

The refrigerated truck sat at the junction, snores drifting from its cab.

Yang Jian sent Shiu Kong a message.

"Sagamihara's cleared. I took two fingers and destroyed the specimen. Kusumoto's people will find three empty containers when they come tomorrow."

Shiu Kong replied instantly: "What about the refrigerated truck?"

"Left it alone. Let it make the trip for nothing."

"Got it. Also, after Kagekatsu Uesugi left Ichikawa this afternoon, he went to Kusumoto's private residence in Shinjuku. Stayed forty minutes."

"What did they talk about?"

"The house has a signal jammer. Uesugi was in a hurry when he left, and he didn't look happy."

Yang Jian put his phone away.

His ghost domain unfolded in a flash of red light.

Outside the windowsill of his dorm room at Jujutsu High, Yang Jian stepped onto the wooden veranda.

Sukuna's Fingers remained imprisoned in his fifth-layer ghost domain. He put the Chopping Knife back in the wardrobe.

He sat on the edge of the bed and brought up the panel.

[Points: 58460]

An increase of two hundred.

Half-formed experimental specimens were not worth much.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

The group chat.

Satoru Gojo: "@Yang Jian The door wasn't locked, but a can of cola is missing from the table. You were here."

Yang Jian typed: "I was passing by. Instead of sleeping, you're taking inventory of your soda cans in the middle of the night?"

Satoru Gojo: "The strongest doesn't need sleep. Also, that was blatant theft."

Shoko Ieiri chimed in: "Checking your cola inventory at three thirty in the morning? I recommend going straight to neurosurgery tomorrow. Both of you should book an appointment."

Yang Jian promptly closed the group chat.

He lay down with his hands behind his head. The crack in the ceiling was still in the same place, stretching from the lampshade to the corner of the wall.

Kusumoto would not discover the missing containers in Sagamihara until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. How would he react then?

Yang Jian considered it and decided it did not matter.

The containers were gone. The petri dishes were gone. Ichikawa was an empty shell, and so was Sagamihara.

Everything Kusumoto had at his disposal had already been taken away or destroyed.

As for the person backing him-

That was a matter for later.

Dawn had not yet broken.

Wind slipped through the gap in the window, carrying away the room's stuffy heat.

Time to sleep.