"Looks like that old bastard Gakuganji disobeyed orders."
A voice drifted down from the branches of an old camphor tree several hundred meters farther up the mountain path.
It was light and airy, carrying the pleased tone of someone watching an entertaining turn in a play.
The speaker sat on a thick, outstretched branch, his back against the trunk and one leg dangling, swaying gently in the air.
His face was ordinary, the sort that would vanish into a crowd in an instant, but a distinct line of stitches ran down the center of his forehead.
It extended from his hairline to between his eyebrows, as though someone had carefully sewn it with an extremely fine needle and thread.
His gaze passed through the gaps in the canopy and settled on the four figures climbing the stone steps below.
Jogo landed on another branch beside him. It bent slightly under his weight but did not break.
He folded his arms across his chest, a few wisps of pale gray smoke rising from the top of his crater-like head.
They were nearly invisible in the afternoon sunlight, and only up close could one smell a faint trace of sulfur.
"What? It's just one extra person."
He turned to glance at Kenjaku, a trace of confusion in his two round eyes, which looked embedded in volcanic rock.
Kenjaku did not answer immediately.
He continued watching below. Only after Aoi Todo's broad back rounded a bend and disappeared behind a dense clump of bushes did he withdraw his gaze and tilt his head slightly.
"That big oaf in front... he's pretty strong."
He raised his index finger and lightly tapped his temple.
"That one finger alone won't be enough to handle him."
Jogo fell silent for a moment.
Then a look of understanding appeared on his craggy face.
The smoke atop his head rose a little faster than before.
"So..."
"You knew this would happen?"
"That's why you had me arrange for those two Special Grade Cursed Spirits to lie in ambush there?"
Kenjaku smiled.
The smile looked gentle and harmless on his face, like the casual expression an ordinary person might wear while chatting.
But Jogo knew that what lurked beneath that face ran deeper than all of Mount Yoshida.
Kenjaku did not answer Jogo's questions directly.
He merely rose from the branch, his movements light, making no sound at all, like a feather settling on water.
Standing on the branch, he tipped his head back slightly and looked through the overlapping layers of leaves overhead at the sky they cut into fragments.
"Strange, really."
His tone remained just as casual.
"More and more powerful Cursed Spirits have been appearing lately. In both quality and quantity, the Special Grades..."
"They outnumber and surpass even those of the Heian period-the age of Sukuna."
At the mention of Sukuna, Jogo snorted out a blast of hot air.
"Of course. There are more people now, aren't there?"
"More Cursed Energy leaking out, and more negative emotions too."
"Naturally, today's Cursed Spirits are much stronger than those fellows back then."
"True." Kenjaku lowered his head, his gaze returning to Jogo's smoking face as the curve of his lips deepened a fraction.
"So it seems my thousand-year plan will come to fruition in this age."
Jogo nodded in agreement.
But then he tilted his head again, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Anyway."
"Why did you stage this whole show?"
"Just to test how strong that Wangchuan fellow is?"
Kenjaku tucked his hands into his sleeves. The posture seemed somewhat at odds with standing in a tree, yet strangely harmonious.
"Exactly."
His answer was crisp and direct.
"This fellow who appeared out of nowhere makes me a little uneasy."
He paused, as though gathering his words, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"There's plenty of information on his battles, but every one ended in an instant kill."
"There's no useful information at all."
"His Cursed Technique, his upper limit, how he responds-it's all shrouded in fog."
"It's nothing but overwhelming raw stats."
"Useless battle records are more troublesome than no records at all."
Jogo listened silently, the smoke drifting steadily from his head.
"So if it turns out the same this time..."
Kenjaku let out a soft breath. "We'll be able to draw a conclusion."
"An opponent every bit as difficult as the Six Eyes."
"In that case, we'll have to readjust our subsequent arrangements."
After saying this, he lightly leaped from the branch and landed on a higher one, as though stepping onto an invisible stair.
Jogo jumped up after him, the branch beneath his feet creaking faintly.
"Let's go."
Kenjaku's voice drifted down from above, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible urgency.
"That fellow might be here in a moment."
"I have no desire to run into him right now."
The two figures moved soundlessly through the canopy a few times and soon disappeared into the dense green depths of Mount Yoshida.
The branches trembled slightly after their departure, then grew still again, as though no one had ever stood there.
The chorus of cicadas swelled again, burying every trace beneath it.
At the same time.
Wangchuan walked along a street lined with cherry trees.
In July, the cherry trees bore only thick green foliage.
There were few people on the street. Occasionally, a resident or two cycled past, their bicycle bells sounding especially clear in the quiet afternoon.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Wangchuan stopped, took out his phone, and glanced down at the screen.
It was a bank transfer notification. He swiped it open, and his lips naturally curved when he saw the string of numbers.
[Funds received: 1,950,000,000!]
"Finally came through."
He slipped his phone back into his pocket and silently did some calculations.
Adding what he had saved before, his total savings had now reached a considerable sum.
22.1 billion yen.
"That'll do."
He sat on a bench beneath a roadside cherry tree, tipped his head back slightly, and glanced at the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Then he called softly within his sea of consciousness.
"System."
"Convert all the yen in my account into Demon Coins."
The golden voice soon rang out in his sea of consciousness, carrying its usual emotionless, mechanical precision.
[Exchange rate: 1 Demon Coin = 10 billion yen. Currently available yen: 22.1 billion. Exchangeable Demon Coins: 2.21. Confirm exchange?]
Wangchuan stared at the number "2.21" and fell silent for a second.
"...That exchange rate really is painfully stable."
He muttered this, then smiled and confirmed within his sea of consciousness.
"Confirm the exchange for two Demon Coins."
[Confirmed. Processing exchange... Exchange complete.] [Current Demon Coin balance: 2.]
Wangchuan looked at the position of the decimal point and let out a soft breath.
"A whole year, and I only saved twenty billion."
"I really want to rob a bank."
Before you continue