Reverse Cursed Technique.
A heaven-defying skill that was extremely difficult to master, one that ninety-nine percent of Jujutsu sorcerers would never comprehend.
It was said that as long as one breath remained, a sorcerer could return to peak condition in an extremely short time.
Regrowing severed limbs was not out of the question.
Even a damaged brain could be repaired.
A sorcerer like that was extremely hard to kill, because as long as they did not suffer a fatal blow, they could regenerate endlessly.
In common terms, it was like carrying a healing fountain that could refill one’s health in one second.
If you could not empty the opponent’s health bar in that one second, you could not kill them.
At the same time, elsewhere.
Jiro Awasaka, who had just completed a commission, was eating a late-night meal with another curse user, Granny Ogami.
“Are you really certain that the person who nearly killed you is the one who restored the balance of the Jujutsu world?” “Ah, there’s no mistake.
You still remember the first time you saw Satoru Gojo, don’t you?” How could she forget?
Granny Ogami had also been one of the people who participated in the hunt for Satoru Gojo.
At the time, Satoru Gojo had only been five or six years old.
Yet one glance back from him had frightened her so badly that both her hands trembled uncontrollably, even though she had been leisurely drinking tea and waiting for a chance to kill him in one strike.
Her whole body had been swept by a terrifying feeling.
She had not even had the courage to turn and run.
“I will never forget it.
I’ve been in this business for so long, and that was the first time I encountered a monster like that.
Even Grade 1 sorcerers never gave me that kind of feeling.” “At first, I thought I would probably never meet a second person like that in my life.
Until I met Lord Makoto.” Lord?
This guy had even changed how he addressed him.
“There is no mistake.
Lord Makoto is the being who restored balance to the Jujutsu world.
He will surely kill Satoru Gojo and make curse users free again.” “I’ve already decided.
From now on, I’ll follow Lord Makoto.
I want to witness him defeat Satoru Gojo with my own eyes and stand at the top of the Jujutsu world!” As he spoke, the resurrected Jiro Awasaka’s expression became incomparably fanatical.
It was even more intense than the pleasure he felt when torturing and killing those human insects.
“Don’t forget, he nearly killed you,” Granny Ogami said, unable to make up her mind because she had not truly seen the natural enemy of Satoru Gojo that Awasaka spoke of.
“That was because I overestimated myself.
Besides, it was thanks to Lord Makoto that I was able to comprehend Reverse Cursed Technique.” Jiro Awasaka lifted his clothes, revealing the huge scar on his chest.
That was the place King Crimson’s fist had punched through.
Even though Reverse Cursed Technique had repaired him and kept him from dying, the scar remained on his body forever.
“How did you do it?” Compared with Makoto, Granny Ogami clearly cared more about Reverse Cursed Technique.
“I don’t know,” Jiro Awasaka said directly.
“I simply didn’t want to die like that.
I wanted to see Lord Makoto kill Satoru Gojo with my own eyes.
Then I understood it.” That was exactly why Reverse Cursed Technique was so hard to master.
It had no method of training.
If one could comprehend it, one could comprehend it.
If one could not, no amount of explanation would help.
It had been that way for a thousand years.
“I see.
What do you plan to do next?” “Hahahaha, I have absolutely no idea.” Jiro Awasaka said he also did not know what he should do for Makoto.
“I believe Lord Makoto will go to war with Satoru Gojo sooner or later.
The other side has Jujutsu High and the Three Great Families behind him.” “In that case, I plan to unite more curse users.
When that destined battle arrives, we will hold back those disgusting Jujutsu sorcerers for Lord Makoto.” “Who would sell their life for a nameless teenage brat just because of a few words from you?” Granny Ogami could not help retorting.
“Only for now.
That won’t be true soon.
Lord Makoto’s name will soon resound through the curse user groups.
I’m certain of it!” …
Back with Makoto.
“Reverse Cursed Technique…” “Yeah.
If you run into a sorcerer who has mastered Reverse Cursed Technique in the future, remember not to hesitate.
Crush their brain immediately.” Toji Fushiguro pointed at his own head.
“Though there aren’t many sorcerers like that.
You may not even meet one.” He stood up and patted the dirt from his body.
“Right, almost forgot.
This thing should be useful to you.” Toji Fushiguro fished around in his pocket, took out a ring, and tossed it to Makoto.
“A ring?” “Look more carefully.” Hearing that, Makoto lowered his head and examined it seriously.
Sure enough, he discovered something unusual.
This was not a real ring.
Cursed energy fluctuations spread from it.
They were very faint, to the point that one would not notice without careful attention, but this was a cursed tool.
“You’ve got decent luck, kid.
I got this from a sorcerer.
It’s a rare spatial cursed tool.” A storage ring?
Makoto subconsciously wanted to drip blood on it to claim ownership, then immediately reacted.
This was a cursed tool.
There was no such thing as recognizing a master.
He held the Heavenly Imperial Sword against the ring’s gemstone, and a wondrous feeling immediately surged into his mind.
With a single thought, the ring could store the Heavenly Imperial Sword.
His thought moved, and the Heavenly Imperial Sword instantly vanished without a trace.
Then, with another thought, it immediately popped out of the ring again.
Good thing.
“Thanks.” “Don’t thank me yet.
I’m not giving it to you for free.
Help me complete a few commissions.
Treat it as the price of buying the cursed tool.” “Fine.” After obtaining the Heavenly Imperial Sword, Makoto had already intended to make contact with the gray areas of the Jujutsu world and sharpen his skills.
Toji Fushiguro also seemed to intend for him to undergo a baptism of blood.
Working behind closed doors would never produce the strongest sorcerer.
…
The next day.
Makoto came to a Tokyo racetrack to meet up with Toji Fushiguro.
The racetrack was lively, packed with tens of thousands of spectators and gamblers.
The race had already started.
More than ten fine horses galloped across the grass.
Even from several hundred meters away, the rapid drumming of hooves sounded as if it were right beside one’s ears.
Then, amid the passionate shouting of the live commentator, Toji Fushiguro clicked his tongue in displeasure and crumpled the betting ticket in his hand before throwing it away.
“Lost?” “Bad luck.” Toji Fushiguro looked irritated.
To Makoto, he felt like Tsunade from Naruto.
Terrible at gambling and addicted anyway.
He lost almost every time, then kept betting after losing, never tiring of it.
“This is the helper you found?” At that moment, another person beside him spoke.
It was Shiu Kong, the broker Toji Fushiguro had mentioned before, someone who specialized in introducing work to curse users.
…
“RoseWhisky”