I said, I want you to be my teacher

The clamor of the investiture ceremony had yet to fade completely. The courtyards of the Zenin main estate still held the lingering warmth of the departed guests. Zhiyan had only just returned to his own courtyard when a servant bearing a message arrived behind him. Bowing, the servant presented a wooden box lacquered in near-black, its lid engraved with the simple crest of the Zenin Clan. It felt heavy in Zhiyan's hands, clearly holding something substantial.

"Lord Naobito instructed me to deliver this to Young Master Zhiyan after the ceremony." The messenger spoke respectfully, not daring to show the slightest negligence. Zhiyan was now the formally designated heir of the Zenin Clan. Though he radiated no oppressive aura, his inheritance of the Ten Shadows Technique and his maturity beyond his years had made the entire clan privately wary of him.

Zhiyan accepted the box, his fingertips touching the cool lacquer, and gave a slight nod. "Understood. Thank my father for me."

Once the messenger withdrew, he placed the box on the low table by the window and slowly opened it.

Inside lay a neatly stacked pile of thick dossiers. Each cover bore a jujutsu sorcerer's name and title in vermilion ink. They included veteran sorcerers from within the Zenin Clan, outside hires, and even several senior figures in Jujutsu Society who had lived in seclusion for years.

Beside the dossiers was a note in Naobito Zenin's own steady, forceful handwriting: "These are all outstanding figures in Jujutsu Society. They can help you refine your cursed technique and train in Martial Arts. The choice is yours. You need not hold back out of consideration for anyone."

Zhiyan picked up a dossier and slowly opened it. It detailed the sorcerer's cursed technique, combat record, and teaching style. Some even clearly listed the types of shikigami they specialized in. The first candidate was a Zenin Clan elder skilled in barrier techniques, with a record full of achievements in suppressing cursed spirits. The second was an independent sorcerer hired from outside, famous for a high-speed technique, who had once slain three Grade 1 Cursed Spirits alone. The third was a veteran specializing in cursed energy refinement, reportedly capable of improving one's control over cursed energy severalfold...

He leafed through them page by page, his expression calm throughout. These sorcerers were indeed formidable, with impressive records. For an ordinary Zenin child, receiving instruction from any one of them would have been an extraordinary blessing.

Yet as Zhiyan's fingertips passed over the words, his eyes showed no trace of interest. These people were either constrained by the Zenin Clan's rules, their techniques shackled by rigid tradition, or too focused on a single field to meet the Ten Shadows Technique's core demands of coordinated shikigami and versatile tactics. Worse still, some dossiers betrayed a mixture of awe and probing curiosity toward the Ten Shadows Technique. Clearly, they had no genuine desire to teach him and were only acquiescing because of Naobito and Zhiyan's status as heir.

After reaching the end of the stack, Zhiyan gently closed the dossiers and set them aside. Sunlight fell through the window lattice onto his profile, while his black hair draped over his shoulders, partly concealing the indifference in his eyes.

These so-called "outstanding figures" could never truly understand what he sought. He wanted neither instruction bound by convention nor gradual, prescribed improvement. He wanted guidance that could break through the existing framework of cursed techniques and bring the Ten Shadows Technique to its fullest power. He wanted strength capable of confronting the clan's hidden struggles-and even overturning the rules of Jujutsu Society.

Leaning by the window, he unconsciously rubbed the edge of the wooden box. His mind drifted back to the investiture ceremony: Ogi Zenin's insincere congratulations, the clan elders' loaded looks, and that figure who had remained apart from the crowd, smoking against a corridor pillar.

Toji Zenin.

The name dropped like a stone into still water, sending ripples through his thoughts.

That outcast whom the Zenin Clan deemed incapable of possessing cursed energy. That cousin who always acted flippant yet could kill a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit with his bare hands. That man who had told him on his way back to his courtyard that day, in a frivolous tone, "A caged bird shackled by jujutsu will die in its cage sooner or later."

The faintest smile touched Zhiyan's lips, vanishing almost before it could be seen. To everyone else, Toji was the clan's disgrace, a rebel who disrespected his elders, a selfish man who cared only about money.

But to Zhiyan, Toji possessed what everyone else in the Zenin Clan lacked: untamed ferocity, a clear understanding of the essence of strength, and absolute power that placed him above cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers even without cursed energy.

Toji's words that day had sounded frivolous, yet every one of them had struck at the heart of Zhiyan's problem.

The Zenin Clan's jujutsu sorcerers, including his father Naobito, were all trapped within the doctrine of cursed energy's supremacy. Toji, however, had proven through his actions that true strength had never depended on cursed techniques or cursed energy, but on mastery of combat itself.

The Ten Shadows Technique had limitless potential, yet his current use of it still bore the rigid marks of the Zenin Clan's teachings. The Divine Dogs' wind blades, Toad's restraints, Rabbit Escape's misdirection, and even the lightning of Nue, with whom he had just formed a pact, were merely individual shikigami abilities layered together. He had yet to achieve true unity between himself and his shikigami.

And Toji, the man who best understood how to defeat "something" with "nothing," might be the key to opening his eyes.

Besides, there was Toji's "helpful" nature. So long as the offer was sufficient, there was nothing he would refuse to do.

Compared with those sorcerers bound by clan rules and harboring ulterior motives, Toji's bluntness and simplicity actually put Zhiyan more at ease.

With that thought, Zhiyan stopped hesitating. He rose and summoned the servant stationed outside his courtyard, his tone mild but carrying unquestionable authority. "Do you know where Toji Zenin is right now?"

The servant paused, apparently not expecting the newly appointed heir to ask after that "problem figure," but quickly bowed and answered, "Lord Zhiyan, Lord Toji... should be in a side room in the West Wing Courtyard." There was caution in his voice; clearly, he was wary of Toji's temperament.

Zhiyan nodded without asking anything further, then turned and headed toward the West Wing Courtyard.

The courtyards of the Zenin main estate were deep and winding. Red walls and dark tiled roofs cast mottled shadows in the sunlight. Servants and low-ranking jujutsu sorcerers bowed as he approached, their eyes filled with reverence and apprehension.

Zhiyan kept his gaze forward and his steps steady. The hem of his plain clothes swayed lightly as he walked, his quiet composure a sharp contrast to the lingering bustle of the ceremony around him.

Unlike the orderly solemnity of the main courtyard, the West Wing Courtyard had an air of careless ease. Weeds remained in the corners, a few garments hung haphazardly beneath the corridor to dry, and a faint scent of tobacco drifted through the air. Zhiyan stopped outside the side room and lightly knocked on its wooden door, the sound quiet but clear.

Silence lingered inside for a moment. Then came shuffling footsteps, accompanied by the click of a lighter.

The door creaked open. Toji Zenin stood there with a cigarette between his lips, dressed in loose black casual clothes with the collar hanging open. His eyes held the languor of someone who had just woken up. Seeing Zhiyan outside, he raised an eyebrow and drawled teasingly, "Well, if it isn't our newly appointed heir. What brings you to this dump?" Smoke slipped from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, partly veiling his expression.

Zhiyan stood at the door and looked at him calmly, paying no mind to his flippant tone or the tobacco smell wafting out of the room. He went straight to the point. "I came to ask you to be my teacher."

"Huh?"

Toji Zenin let out a sharp, derisive laugh, as though he had heard the biggest joke in the world. The cigarette bobbed between his lips, scattering ash onto his clothes without him noticing. "Did I hear that wrong?"

"I said, I want you to be my teacher," Zhiyan repeated.

Toji leaned against the doorframe and looked down at Zhiyan. His habitually indifferent eyes now brimmed with amusement, along with undisguised mockery. "You want me as your teacher? Kid, are you still half asleep, or did you drink too much at the ceremony?"

He pointed at his own nose, his tone growing even more flippant. "Me? A 'failure' the Zenin Clan kicked to the curb? A scumbag who cares about money, not people? Teaching you, their legitimate heir? If your father found out, he'd probably be so furious he'd strip you of your inheritance on the spot."

Zhiyan remained where he stood, straight as a pine. Though Toji's taunts jabbed at him like needles, his expression stayed perfectly calm.

He did not even raise a hand to brush away the cigarette ash that had drifted onto his shoulder. His eyes stayed fixed on Toji, his tone level and every word clear. "First, I'm perfectly awake, and I haven't been drinking. Second, my father gave me the choice, and I choose you. Besides, I don't care what anyone else thinks. My approval is enough. As for all that nonsense those old fossils in the clan spout-'Anyone who isn't a Zenin isn't a sorcerer, and anyone who isn't a sorcerer isn't...'-they can take it to their graves."

"You choose me?" Toji raised an eyebrow and slowly took a drag, blowing smoke in front of Zhiyan's face as though trying to obscure his vision. "Do you know my rules for teaching? First, I'm expensive. If you don't have enough to offer, forget it. Second, I won't teach you the Zenin way. Those barriers and cursed energy refinement you want to learn? I know nothing about them. Third, if you can't handle my methods halfway through, there's no taking it back. I might even beat you up, toss you into a nest of cursed spirits, and make you crawl out on your own."

He deliberately emphasized those last few sentences, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes, as though he were trying to scare off his overly "proper" younger cousin.

In his view, Zhiyan was no different from the rest of the Zenin Clan: a pampered young master cradled in the family's hands because he had inherited the Ten Shadows Technique. He would never endure Toji's brutal, combat-first teaching methods.

But Zhiyan's reaction caught him off guard. At the mention of being beaten up and thrown into a cursed spirit nest, the boy showed no fear at all. Instead, a barely perceptible gleam passed through his eyes, as though he had finally found exactly what he wanted.

He nodded slightly, his voice still steady. "I can meet your price, as long as it's something I can obtain. The Zenin Clan's resources, cursed tools, money, even the power I may hold in the future-all of it can be offered in exchange."

"As for your teaching methods..." He paused, his gaze passing over Toji's open collar, the cigarette between his fingers, and the untamed look in his eyes that stood so completely apart from the Zenin Clan. "I don't want instruction bound by convention. I want methods that break convention and strike at the essence of combat. The Ten Shadows Technique's potential shouldn't be shackled by the clan's rules. And you're the only person who can help me achieve that."

Toji went still with the cigarette between his lips. The mockery slowly faded from his face, replaced by a measure of serious scrutiny. For the first time, he truly examined the boy before him. His plain kimono accentuated his slender frame, and his black hair was neatly tied behind his head. His features held the Zenin Clan's distinctive composure, yet his dark eyes concealed a resolve and ambition far beyond his age. It was the sharp edge of someone who wanted to break every shackle and seize control of his own fate-exactly as Toji had in his youth.

Toji slowly spat out the cigarette butt and ground it beneath his shoe, a knowing smile curling his lips. "Interesting. You want to break the rules, and I want a good enough payoff. Sounds like we've hit it off." He stepped aside and gestured for Zhiyan to enter. "Come in and talk, my dear cousin. We need to work out just how much that title of 'Ten Shadows heir' is worth."

Without hesitation, Zhiyan stepped inside. The room was unexpectedly simple-no, shabby was the better word. A wooden bed, a low table, a few chairs, and several jackets and empty liquor bottles tossed carelessly on the floor. The air smelled of tobacco and faint traces of alcohol, a stark contrast to the refined luxury of the Zenin main estate.

He sat beside the low table and watched Toji pour him a cup of strong liquor and push it toward him, his tone probing. "Let's get this straight first. I won't go easy on you. If you're afraid of pain or death, you can still back out."

Zhiyan did not touch the liquor. He merely lifted his eyes to Toji, determination shining in them. "I've never been afraid." He paused, then added, "I don't want to become the Zenin Clan's puppet. I want real strength-enough to protect myself and the people I want to protect. Enough to make every scheme and shackle vanish."

A flicker of approval crossed Toji's eyes, then gave way to amusement. He lifted his own cup and drained it. The fiery liquor slid down his throat, igniting the defiance in his eyes. "Good! You've got guts!" Starting tomorrow, you're with me. I'll show you how I make those so-called 'jujutsu sorcerers' cry for their parents without a scrap of cursed energy."

He leaned closer to Zhiyan, lowering his voice into something almost coaxing. "But let me warn you up front. Follow me, and the clan might despise you. Jujutsu Society might shut you out. You could even lose your life at any moment. Are you really ready?"

Zhiyan met his gaze without the slightest retreat, his answer firm. "I'm ready."

Morning light streamed through the window lattice and fell upon them, one untamed and defiant, the other calm and resolute. In that shabby side room, a pact between teacher and student that would overturn the Zenin Clan's rules was quietly sealed.