"Hah... hah... hah..." The old man trembled with rage, quite literally too furious to speak.
Mahito, completely unfazed, held a bamboo sword and maintained his *Shizentai*—the Natural Posture . This was a foundational stage every kendo beginner had to endure. Having relied entirely on unrefined, street-brawling instincts up until now, Mahito had finally encountered a true academic master, allowing him to genuinely step through the gates of formal swordsmanship.
Kenjaku stood off to the side, thoroughly amused. He chuckled and offered a placating word, "Old friend, don't take it to heart. You can't exactly expect a child who hasn't even been alive for half a year to understand true swordplay. Isn't that why he came to sincerely seek your guidance?"
Ashiya Sadatsuna had barely managed to calm down before he snapped again:
"It has been over three hundred years since I last taught someone swordsmanship from scratch!"
"Even the worst of those who sought me out had a solid foundation! Most were undeniable prodigies of the blade, talents that had already *blossomed*! And you, you bastard, you drag me out here to relive my days as a basic drill instructor?! Son of a bitch!"
It was as if a national-level academician had been told he was receiving a brilliant prodigy to mentor in cutting-edge theories, eagerly anticipating the birth of the next generation's genius by his own hand—only to be handed a total novice who didn't even know that one plus one equaled two.
Anyone's mental state would detonate under those conditions!
Ashiya let out a dark, bitter laugh, glaring at Kenjaku. "And to think I almost bestowed the title of 'Zen'in-Cutter' upon this bastard! Does he even deserve it?! I swear on my life, the sword in his hand is nothing more than a convenient tool to him. His trump cards have absolutely nothing to do with swordsmanship!"
"Goddammit, let me guess. Didn't you tell me his blade is a tsukumogami? The only reason he can draw such beautiful arcs is ninety-nine percent due to some Cursed Technique akin to Tool Manipulation, isn't it?!"
Bullseye.
While perfectly maintaining his Natural Posture, Mahito silently praised the man. As expected of the founder of the New Shadow Style. At the very least, his talent for the blade was matched by a bold and meticulous mind.
Innate Techniques were almost always strictly one per person. Rumors of the "King of Curses" and his abilities had already spread like wildfire through Jujutsu society. His power to "force evolution upon others" had absolutely nothing to do with swordsmanship, no matter how you looked at it.
Furthermore, the chaotic melee at the Zen'in estate had left behind a violently tangled mess of Cursed Energy Residuals. Compounded by Mahito mercilessly unleashing *Maximum: Advent* at the very end, the entire Zen'in compound had been reduced to a flattened wasteland. Even Satoru Gojo wouldn't have been able to glean anything from the wreckage—which was exactly why Gojo hadn't even bothered entering the epicenter, choosing instead to observe the final battlefield from the perimeter of the estate.
It wasn't that Gojo didn't want to investigate the site; it was that there was simply nothing left to read.
Therefore, anyone looking at that battlefield, factoring in the already confirmed abilities of the King of Curses, would never even entertain the possibility that he possessed a *second* Cursed Technique. The intelligence network would naturally conclude that the King of Curses must possess transcendent swordsmanship.
Who could have guessed that Mahito didn't know the first thing about swordsmanship, and that his blade skills were entirely hard-carried by his Tool Manipulation?
The more common sense a Sorcerer had, the less likely they were to guess the truth!
Originally, this old man, Ashiya Sadatsuna, had proposed a bamboo sword sparring session just to gauge Mahito's baseline. But the moment Mahito gripped the bamboo hilt, the old man's face had flushed crimson, his blood pressure visibly spiking as he roared to the heavens. He recognized instantly—with zero hesitation—that Mahito was absolutely cheating.
Mahito smiled brightly. "You didn't name me 'Zen'in-Cutter', Instructor. You gave that name to my Kirigiri. You're misremembering."
"You little sh—" The old man prepared to roar again, but suddenly froze.
Mahito remained perfectly still, holding the beginner's Natural Posture. Ashiya's sharp, hawk-like eyes began to circle Mahito, his shouting dying in his throat. Kenjaku stood nearby, watching Ashiya's darkening expression with a knowing smile, completely unsurprised.
After a long silence, Ashiya Sadatsuna spoke, utterly shaken. "Your comprehension... are you a monster?"
Why must every kendo apprentice undergo the foundational torment of Natural Posture? Because it was the absolute best physical state to correct one's grip and movement mechanics. It provided the optimal leverage for kinetic force. No matter what advanced techniques one learned later, mastering the Natural Posture offered only absolute benefits.
It was just like the horse stance in traditional martial arts—the bedrock foundation. It was the ultimate, agonizing grind of pure patience.
A horse stance only grows more stable with practice, and the same applies to the Natural Posture. There isn't even a universal "perfect" standard for it, because every individual's height, weight, bone density, muscle distribution, and even resting heart rate vary by microscopic margins. Through long-term foundational training, the body naturally and instinctively corrects itself into the most optimal, personalized stance.
It is an isolated, highly individual perfection. An observer can only grasp the general concept; it is physically impossible to replicate it perfectly one-to-one. This was exactly why Ashiya Sadatsuna had previously mentioned that "swordsmanship requires a decade of polishing."
According to martial arts texts, Tsukahara Bokuden spent his youth striking a tree with a wooden sword 6,000 times a day, every day for years. This grueling regimen not only forged his physique and technique but honed his focus and explosive power far beyond human limits, allowing him to slaughter armored opponents on the battlefield with nothing but a wooden bokken. It was the absolute zenith of physical mastery.
And yet...
Ashiya Sadatsuna couldn't help but ask:
"How the hell are you doing this? Your grip, your skeletal alignment, even your mental focus and spiritual centering are rapidly optimizing... at a speed visible to the naked eye! When you first picked up that sword, you were a completely ignorant amateur. It hasn't even been fifteen minutes, and looking at you now, it feels as though you've been practicing this exact stance for over five years."
Mahito was genuinely startled. "You can accurately estimate the exact amount of time someone has spent holding a sword?"
"Gripping a weapon is not a biological instinct native to humanity; it is an acquired, learned behavior. Because of this, even if a total amateur and a seasoned veteran both understand the basic mechanics of a grip, their physical posture will be fundamentally different."
"The difference between five years and ten years... ten years and twenty years... someone who used to practice but quit... or hands that have wielded a blade for over a century... to me, it is as clear as reading the lines on my own palm," Ashiya stated flatly.
*Alright, that was a raw flex. I'll give him that.* Mahito's expression shifted into one of genuine admiration.
Ashiya noticed the respect, but rather than looking smug, he pressed the issue:
"You might think this ability of mine is impressive, but it's actually much simpler than you realize. Any swordsman worthy of a Menkyo Kaiden can do it. The real question is *you*. How are you doing this? How can fifteen minutes possibly equate to five years of human effort?"
"Look closer," Mahito replied, maintaining the Natural Posture.
Ashiya stopped asking and scrutinized Mahito's form. Gradually, comprehension dawned on his face, followed swiftly by profound shock.
"You didn't 'accelerate' your time... You directly modified your own flesh and bone to forcibly adapt into a body perfectly suited for swinging a sword! I see... so this is what you call 'evolution'?"
"If someone had told me in the past that swordsmanship could be rushed, I would have cut them down on the spot. But now, I am forced to admit the truth... human imagination truly has its limits. Even mine."
Kenjaku smiled. "Old friend, did you never stop to consider what an ability that 'forces evolution' actually entails?"
Ashiya furrowed his brow in deep thought. "When the rumors of the King of Curses first hit the underground, I started paying attention. Back then, there weren't even rumors that Mahito could grant immortality."
"My working theory at the time was that it was some sort of ability to 'correct the flesh.'"
"Human bodies absolutely have inherent talent caps. If Michael Jordan wasn't nearly two meters tall, no matter how god-tier his game sense was, he would never have achieved his legendary status in basketball."
"Sorcerers are exactly the same. In fact, the Jujutsu world is infinitely crueler than basketball. Basketball at least has shorter players who make it to the top. In Jujutsu society, if you don't have the innate talent, you are nothing!"
"The flow of Cursed Energy, the efficiency of technique activation, total Cursed Energy reserves, explosive output... all of these are heavily restricted by the physical vessel. It is not something that can be overcome just because your 'willpower' is strong enough."
"As long as you understand this, and possess the ability to bio-engineer the flesh, it becomes incredibly easy to force a Sorcerer's capabilities to skyrocket."
"The same goes for turning regular humans into Sorcerers."
"A Sorcerer's anatomical structure is fundamentally, biologically different from a normal human's. But inversely, as long as you patch up those physiological differences, turning a normal human into a Sorcerer is child's play."
Mahito was inwardly stunned. *As expected of a living fossil from Kenjaku's era. The sheer depth of his experience is on another level. This guy managed to reverse-engineer seventy to eighty percent of Idle Transfiguration's true mechanics based on nothing but street rumors.*
Even Kinji Hakari, a formally educated Tokyo High student, genuinely believed Mahito's power was simply "granting evolution" when they fought. Not just Hakari—even the Disaster Curses allied with Mahito thought the same.
Kenjaku had harbored suspicions early on, but ironically, the more he interacted with Mahito, the less he doubted him. This was because, aside from physical enhancements, Mahito's *Idle Transfiguration* could also perfectly manipulate the mind and will. The "Thought Imprint"—a technique Mahito had never explicitly revealed to anyone—was his masterpiece.
They all knew he could twist minds, but standard mind-warping left glaringly obvious Cursed Energy Residuals. Any competent Sorcerer could spot them instantly. Therefore, while they knew Mahito could warp minds, they arrogantly believed they were too perceptive to ever fall for it.
The secret of the [Thought Imprint] was something Mahito had never shared with a single soul, not even his closest Cursed Spirit allies.
This meant that everyone who underwent modification via *Idle Transfiguration* experienced subtle, seemingly natural shifts in their psychological state—shifts that didn't appear to be the result of forced physical tampering. Even a deeply cunning schemer like Kenjaku had fallen for the misdirection.
Yet this old man, entirely unaffected by any of it, had seen through to the absolute core truth of *Idle Transfiguration* with terrifying clarity.
Mahito quietly raised his threat assessment of the man. *This guy was just a nameless piece of canon fodder casually killed off at the end of the original manga, yet he's this terrifying? I absolutely cannot underestimate anyone.*
Mahito had first realized this during the Zen'in massacre, and here was another glaring example. The original manga was simply too concentrated on the absolute highest-tier god-levels. Even figures legendary within the Jujutsu world were treated like roadside dogs in the canon's final war.
Now that Mahito was deeply entrenched in Jujutsu society, he had to keep his ego firmly in check.
Kenjaku couldn't help but applaud. "Brilliant as always, old friend."
Ashiya Sadatsuna didn't look proud; instead, his confusion deepened.
"But anyone who knows their craft understands that even if the physical vessel is flawless, it only guarantees a high baseline. There are plenty of tall athletes, but only one Michael Jordan. The body dictates the floor, but to reach the ceiling, one must touch the realm of 'comprehension.'"
"Ninety-nine percent perspiration and one percent inspiration—that is the makeup of a genius. The ninety-nine percent is easily obtained, but that one percent of inspiration is harder than scaling the heavens."
"It's not just swordsmanship; this truth governs the entire world. Some people, given the exact same starting conditions, can forge masterpieces that others couldn't replicate in a lifetime."
Ashiya let out a heavy sigh of bewilderment.
"Take material sciences, for instance. If Japan's ancient forging techniques hadn't been so lacking, and if we hadn't stolen the hundred-fold steel refinement techniques from the massive empire to our west, we never would have developed the curved blade—that so-called 'finishing touch' of a katana..."
"Goddammit, if ancient Japan had access to modern Japanese metallurgy, to hell with the curved blade! I'd swing a straight sword down and cleave man and armor alike in a single strike! The curve is practically a structural flaw!"
"I once saw the legendary Modao with my own eyes. The blade was straight as a pine. When you touched it, you could feel its overwhelming mass, like solid rock. That is how it earned the reputation of shattering both horse and rider."
"Give me a Modao, and I'd cleave all eight heads off the Yamata no Orochi! Ryomen Sukuna wouldn't even be fit to lick my boots!"
After venting his frustrations, Ashiya brought the topic back on track. "I digressed."
"My point is, even if you can use your body-modification ability to sculpt a physique perfectly suited for a blade, the actual *instinct* of swordsmanship should only come from grueling, repetitive grinding over time. Are you telling me there truly are people in this world who can grip a sword and instantly become a Swordmaster?"
Mahito couldn't hold back a laugh. He dropped his Natural Posture and looked at the old man in disbelief. "You dare look down on Ryomen Sukuna?"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't he be looked down upon? I would think every true swordsman would despise him from the bottom of their souls—even if he could kill them with a single glance."
Mahito suddenly thought of Atsuya Kusakabe. His iconic line, *"Me, fight Ryomen Sukuna? Seriously?"* had defined his character.
Kusakabe was a supreme pessimist who would flee without hesitation if given the chance. Yet, when truly forced to face Sukuna, knowing full well he was entirely outmatched, he still gathered every ounce of his courage, fought, and actually survived.
Kusakabe didn't look down on Sukuna in the slightest! On the contrary, he knew exactly where he stood. He harbored zero arrogance toward the King of Curses, treating him with absolute, terrifying caution.
"Why?" Mahito was genuinely baffled.
Ashiya Sadatsuna spoke with icy contempt. "What do you mean 'why'?"
"We swordsmen endure unimaginable suffering, grinding our bodies to dust, discarding everything else in our lives, all just to swing a blade that can transcend time itself."
"And that bastard Ryomen Sukuna doesn't have to do a damn thing. All he has to do is softly utter the word 'Dismantle,' and he casually transcends us all. Put yourself in my shoes. Would you accept that? Would you respect him?!"
Mahito was speechless.
*Isn't that just pure jealousy?! And you're proud of it?!*
Kenjaku quickly stepped in to smooth things over. "Please, don't speak like that. If both the seal and Mahito prove ineffective against Satoru Gojo, resurrecting Ryomen Sukuna will be our only option to deal with him. We may very well have to collaborate with him in the future. It's best to maintain some decorum."
Unexpectedly, the old man replied with absolute, unapologetic pragmatism:
"I'm not an idiot. You think I'd say this to Sukuna's face? I swear, if Ryomen Sukuna actually stood before me, I'd be more loyal than Hachiko. I'd make sure his mood was as bright and sunny as a summer's day. But he's not resurrected yet, is he? We're all friends here; speak freely."
*Hachiko.* Mahito's mouth twitched uncontrollably. *Great. Just great. "We're all friends here, speak freely."*
*You treat us like friends, but take a wild guess if we consider YOU a friend?*
Kenjaku laughed out loud. "Since you know where the line is, old friend, I won't say more." He turned to Mahito.
"Ashiya-san was also one of the Jujutsu Sorcerers who participated in the subjugation campaign against Ryomen Sukuna a thousand years ago. He faked his death to escape, intending to preserve his life for future revenge. But to his shock, right after that subjugation battle, the Jujutsu Headquarters completely bent the knee."
"They actively sought peace with Sukuna, offering him tributes, practically treating him like a living god. It was then that Ashiya-san swore an oath to reign supreme over Jujutsu society, a burning ambition he has nurtured to this very day."
*So it wasn't just jealousy. It was the blood-feud of watching all his comrades die.* Mahito nodded slowly.
Yet Ashiya spoke with a tone of heavy defeat. "Kenjaku, I appreciate you trying to save face for me, but there's no need. After all these years, I've come to terms with it. It's just jealousy!"
"My innate talent for Jujutsu was garbage. To keep walking this path, I had no choice but to embrace the sword. Swordsmanship became my entire world."
"But that battle shattered my pride into bloody pieces. The one and only blade I devoted my life to was fundamentally inferior to a Cursed Technique someone was simply born with, as natural to them as breathing. How could I not despair?"
"If I had been defeated by some other elaborate Cursed Technique, I might have found a reason to keep moving forward. But Sukuna's technique is literally just... slashing. Decades of human blood and sweat, rendered utterly meaningless compared to a fraction of a second of his innate talent."
"How could I not despair?"
*Damn, the ultimate blue-collar resentment against trust-fund kids. I feel that in my bones!*
Mahito felt a slight stir of empathy and asked, "Can you still deploy a Simple Domain?"
Ashiya looked at him in surprise, then burst into laughter. "Your intuition is truly terrifying."
Mahito sighed, speaking with rare sincerity. "Ashiya-san, if you were to face Ryomen Sukuna head-on again—even if you only managed to scratch his skin—you would undoubtedly shatter your ceiling and transcend."
"Simple Domain is an extension of willpower. Its core philosophy is 'when there is no other choice, forge ahead.' This requires an overwhelmingly dominant will. But right now, you are an old man consumed by bitterness and resentment. How can a heart filled with such venom sustain a powerful will?"
He had even outright admitted that if he ever faced Sukuna, he would grovel like a loyal dog. Of all the sorcerers who had mastered Simple Domain, which one of them would ever act so pathetically when facing certain death?
Kasumi Miwa, Atsuya Kusakabe, Kokichi Muta, Yuki Tsukumo, Aoi Todo, even little Ui Ui—none of them would yield like that. With Ashiya's current mindset, even if he could physically manifest a Simple Domain, he would never be able to evolve it further. His martial spirit was broken.
"If I were still the man you met yesterday, your words wouldn't have moved me in the slightest. Back then, I was surviving by leeching the lifespans of my disciples. My frail body made simply existing an agonizing chore. I was kept alive solely by a hollow ambition; my heart was a stagnant pool of dead water."
Ashiya Sadatsuna looked deeply at Mahito. "But now... though I am still old, I no longer have to worry about my lifespan running out. I may not be in my prime, but I can still swing a sword."
Mahito's mouth twitched. *Excellent. This old man is sharper than anyone. As expected of a thousand-year-old ghost on par with Kenjaku. It seems he can not only use Simple Domain, but he actually intends to use it to clash with Ryomen Sukuna!*
Ashiya spoke with sudden urgency, "We've been off-topic for far too long! Hurry up and tell me, how exactly did you do it? Are you saying your 'evolution' affects not just the flesh, but your absolute mental focus as well?! How is that mathematically possible?!"
Mahito was just about to answer when someone came sprinting toward them.
"Mahito! We have a problem." It was Kinji Hakari. His face was grim, his steps hurried.
Ashiya scowled in extreme displeasure. "I explicitly stated that training must take place in absolute silence. Total concentration must be maintained during instruction. Unless Satoru Gojo is actively breaching the perimeter, we are not to be disturbed."
Hakari shot the old man a dark look, his voice freezing over. "You're in luck. It isn't Gojo-sensei."
Ashiya froze.
Kenjaku instantly tensed up. "What happened?"
"Yuki Tsukumo called me personally." Hakari took a deep breath. "She... is requesting a face-to-face meeting with Mahito."
Ashiya and Kenjaku shouted in unison: "Refuse her!"
Kenjaku's words were clear, but his tone was frantic. "Mahito, I know your pride. You've never backed down from anyone who tracked you down and demanded a meeting. You didn't even flinch at the Zen'in clan."
"But Yuki Tsukumo is completely different. She is a Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer!"
"Unless another Special Grade physically stops her, she has the raw power to unilaterally wipe out the entire Jujutsu world if she feels like it! You haven't even finalized your combat system yet. If you fight her now, you will absolutely die!"
"Unless you use your multi-soul fusions."
"But that is a trump card meant exclusively for Satoru Gojo. You absolutely cannot reveal it now!"
"Because you cannot guarantee you can actually kill Yuki Tsukumo. If she escapes, she will leak your trump card to Satoru Gojo! Jujutsu combat is an absolute war of information. The moment your full deck is exposed, you're a dead man walking!"
"The whole world knows Satoru Gojo's exact kit—his Six Eyes, his Limitless, his Infinite Void." Mahito smiled faintly. "Does anyone dare claim they can defeat him?"
"Which is exactly why his death is inevitable," Kenjaku replied with deadly seriousness. "He cannot maintain that absolute suppression for an entire lifetime. He will age. His luck will eventually run out... Look at us. Aren't we actively calculating his downfall right now? The unknown breeds terror; the known merely invites greed."
Mahito executed a flawless sword flourish, slowly sheathing the bamboo blade at his waist as if completing an Iaijutsu draw.
"What time? And where?" Mahito asked.