The instant tremendous force blasted through his fist into Sukuna's chest, Sukuna flew backward like a kite with a broken string swept away by a gale.
He crashed through three or four ruined buildings in succession, chunks of concrete and twisted rebar battering his entire body amid clouds of dust.
At last, he slammed deep into the rubble, half his body pinned beneath collapsed blocks of concrete.
His lungs had been smashed into shreds, the jagged ends of four broken bones piercing diagonally into the lung tissue. Every faint breath brought a mouthful of iron.
The repeated impacts had already scraped his left arm down to bare bone. The right half of his body was a mangled mass of flesh and blood, and the organs in his abdomen had shifted and were bleeding, sliding toward collapse.
Reverse Cursed Technique raced through his meridians, yet instead of following its normal course inward to repair his organs, reconnect broken bones, and stop the bleeding,
it surged against the flow toward his shoulder and neck, budding new flesh at the ragged wound on his right shoulder, rebuilding bone and winding muscle fibers around it.
Through tearing agony, it forcibly grew a complete arm.
His two arms slowly came together before his chest. As his palms faced each other, Mahoraga's Dharma Wheel was still turning.
It had not stopped since the moment the Qingxiao True Martial Aspect took shape.
Only in that instant between life and death, when a single punch sent him flying and his organs churned in weightlessness,
did the Dharma Wheel finally complete its targeted analysis. In his utmost concentration, Sukuna caught that one-in-a-million margin of error.
In that flash of insight, the entire logic fell into place.
The target of his slashes had never needed to be limited to a