Chapter 101: Kuala Lumpur? No, It's the Sword Saint's Domain
"Worth a fortune?"
Yami tilted his head slightly.
Crimson flames burned along the edge of the Nichirin blade in his hand, quiet and steady, pushing back the graveyard's corpse-cold aura several meters around him.
"The bounty on a Special Grade Cursed Spirit should be decent," he said. "But to me, it's just trash blocking the road."
The words had barely left his mouth when the Smallpox Deity shrieked.
Its Domain ritual had been interrupted, its guaranteed kill broken by brute force. For a Special Grade disease curse, that was enough to stir something close to rage.
It did not possess much intelligence.
It did not need to.
The hatred it carried toward the living was pure.
The graveyard trembled.
This time, it was not one coffin.
Dozens erupted from the ground.
Then hundreds.
They burst out of the rotten soil like bamboo shoots after rain, their lids carved with dark stains and ancient curse marks, surrounding Yami from every direction.
The guaranteed-hit effect of the Domain activated again.
Burial.
"Watch out!" Mei Mei shouted, her great axe already raised. "Its technique is compulsory inside the Domain!"
She knew Yami was strong.
She had seen enough to understand that the rumors had not exaggerated him. If anything, they had been too polite.
But this was still a Domain Expansion.
Inside a Domain, reason became secondary. Rules mattered more than power. The cursed technique engraved into the space itself would strike with certainty.
At least, that was how it should have been.
Yami's figure blurred.
The heat around him shifted. The sharp, scorching aura of Sun Breathing suddenly became unstable, flickering like a flame seen through warped glass.
"Guaranteed hit?" he said calmly. "Then I only need to be gone before the coordinates finish locking."
His breathing changed.
Total Concentration.
Sun Breathing, Fourth Form.
Illusory Sun Arc.
In the Smallpox Deity's distorted vision, something impossible occurred.
Its Domain had clearly captured Yami's presence.
The coffin rose at the exact point where he stood.
The lid snapped shut.
But there was no one inside.
Only a fading red afterimage remained, dissolving like heat haze.
An illusion?
No.
It was speed.
Extreme movement paired with high-temperature distortion, leaving visual echoes in the air that even the Domain's perception struggled to distinguish in the instant before activation.
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
Swoosh.
One Yami became three.
Three became seven.
Seven became a circle of crimson shadows spread across the graveyard.
Each afterimage looked solid. Each carried the same heat, the same sword intent, the same terrifying presence.
The Smallpox Deity screamed and dropped tombstones from above.
Boom!
One afterimage shattered.
Boom!
Another was crushed.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Every impact sent rotten soil spraying into the air, but each time, the grave found only empty heat.
"Where are you looking?"
The voice came from above.
The Smallpox Deity froze.
It slowly raised its head.
A red sun was falling.
No.
A blade.
Yami descended through the graveyard air, sword raised, the fire along Shiranui's edge burning so brightly that the nearby tombstones cracked from the heat.
There was no needless flourish.
No grand speech.
Only speed, precision, and the temperature of judgment.
"It's over."
Sun Breathing, First Form.
Circle Dance.
A perfect arc of red light flashed through the Domain.
The blade passed through the Smallpox Deity's neck as though cutting through wet paper.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then golden-red flame erupted from the wound.
"Aaaaaah!"
The curse's scream tore through the graveyard.
Its pustule-covered body convulsed. The regeneration it prided itself on tried to activate, but the flames clung to the severed flesh, burning into the cursed energy at its source.
Sun Breathing was not merely heat.
To cursed spirits, it was poison.
No.
Purification.
The Smallpox Deity's swollen body ignited from the inside. Pustules burst. Rotten flesh blackened. The disease curse thrashed, but each struggle only spread the fire deeper through its body.
Crack.
Crack, crack.
The graveyard began to fracture.
The Domain, which had turned the subway station into a mass burial ground, shattered like a mirror under pressure.
The tombstones collapsed.
The soil dried.
The coffins burned to ash.
In moments, the tiled walls of the station returned.
The damp stench of death faded, replaced by the sharp scent of scorched cursed energy.
From Yami's first step into the Domain to the end of the battle, barely ten seconds had passed.
Mei Mei stood with her axe still raised, but she had not even gotten the chance to swing it a second time.
She stared at the boy standing amid the ashes as he slowly sheathed his sword.
The light in her eyes grew brighter.
A normal Grade 1 sorcerer would have died there.
Even a Special Grade would have found a rule-based Domain troublesome. They would have needed countermeasures, caution, time, perhaps even sacrifice.
But Yami had crushed it head-on.
Not because he ignored the rules.
Because he cut through the moment before the rules could finish closing around him.
That was not merely strength.
That was unreasonable.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Mei Mei applauded softly.
A familiar business smile returned to her face as she stepped forward.
"That was a wonderful exorcism, Yami-kun. Truly beautiful work."
She took out her phone and began tapping the screen.
A moment later, a flight reservation disappeared.
Kuala Lumpur.
That had been her backup plan.
If Shibuya turned into a losing investment, she would have used Ui Ui's technique to flee overseas without a second thought. Staying alive was the foundation of all future profit, after all.
But now?
She had changed her mind.
"You flatter me," Yami said. "It was just a favorable matchup."
"Humility lowers your market value, you know."
Mei Mei slipped her phone away and approached him, her gaze sharp enough to count the value of his every breath.
"That strike just now would fetch an absurd price on the black market."
She raised her fingers and made a number.
"Besides, I'll record the favor of you saving my life properly."
Yami glanced at her.
He did not dislike Mei Mei.
A person who chased profit openly was far easier to deal with than those rotten old men who wrapped greed in righteousness and called it tradition.
"Then I'll leave this area to you, Mei Mei-san."
Yami turned toward the tunnel leading deeper into the station.
"There's bigger trouble below."
"Oh?" Mei Mei raised an eyebrow. "You're heading to the fifth basement floor?"
"That is Gojo-sensei's battlefield."
"Exactly."
Yami's figure blurred.
The last thing he left behind was his voice echoing through the station.
"If the strongest gets sealed, you'll lose everything on this deal."
Mei Mei's pupils narrowed.
"Seal Satoru Gojo...?"
For a brief moment, even her smile thinned.
Then she glanced at Ui Ui beside her, amusement returning to her face.
"It seems we're about to witness history, Ui Ui."
"Yes, Elder Sister."
Meanwhile, at the Meiji-Jingumae Station ticket gates.
"Black Flash!"
Boom!
Yuji Itadori held his punching posture, black cursed energy still crackling around his fist like lightning.
In front of him, the arrogant Locust Curse had been reduced to half a body, rapidly dissolving into black residue.
Yuji exhaled hard, sweat sliding down his jaw.
That last Black Flash had brought back the sensation from the Exchange Event.
No, it was clearer than before.
His cursed energy no longer lagged behind his body like an echo.
It struck with him.
Flowed with him.
Exploded with him.
"We won!"
Takuma Ino rushed over, excitement breaking through his usually serious expression.
"That was amazing, Itadori! That thing was Grade 1!"
Megumi Fushiguro allowed himself one short breath of relief, but he did not relax.
His eyes moved immediately to the strange object the Locust Curse had been guarding.
A wooden stake wrapped in talismans.
One of the Curtain's cornerstones.
"Celebrate later," Megumi said. "Destroy that first."
His shadow stretched.
Divine Dog: Totality lunged forward and tore through the talisman-wrapped stake with one swipe.
The moment the cornerstone shattered, the Curtain covering the area trembled, then dissolved into the night.
"Success!" Ino said.
"Don't celebrate too early."
Yuji looked down at the message from Ijichi on his phone.
His expression grew heavier.
"This was only the perimeter. The real fight is in central Shibuya."
He looked toward Shibuya Hikarie.
Even from this distance, the pressure rising from that direction was suffocating.
"Gojo-sensei..."
Yuji clenched his fist.
"Let's go. We need to meet up with Yami-senpai!"
Fukutoshin Line.
Fifth basement floor.
The deepest subway platform in Shibuya had become a living hell.
Thousands of ordinary people were packed together in the narrow space, pressed shoulder to shoulder until breathing itself became difficult. The air was hot, damp, and thick with fear.
People cried.
People screamed.
People prayed.
And among them, several figures stood out with terrifying clarity.
A one-eyed cursed spirit with a volcanic head venting smoke and sparks.
Jogo.
A forest-like cursed spirit with branches growing from its eyes, silent and oppressive.
Hanami.
And Choso, eldest of the Cursed Womb: Death Paintings, standing there in his crimson vest with an unreadable expression.
His presence among them was strange.
Too quiet.
Too restrained.
But in that chaos, no ordinary person could notice such a thing.
Jogo's single eye snapped toward the stairwell.
"He's here."
Footsteps descended the stairs.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Almost lazy.
A tall man with white hair and a black blindfold walked into view, both hands in his pockets, as though this overcrowded death trap were no different from a shopping street.
Satoru Gojo.
He stopped at the edge of the platform.
The screaming crowd went quiet in waves, as if some instinct in them understood that something beyond human logic had arrived.
Gojo tilted his head slightly.
Even with the blindfold on, it felt as though he was looking directly through every cursed spirit present.
"So this is what you prepared?"
His tone was light.
His presence was not.
The cursed spirits stood among the civilians, surrounding themselves with human shields. Every wide-range attack would kill ordinary people first. Every reckless movement would trigger panic and stampede.
It was a battlefield designed to chain the strongest man alive.
Gojo slowly raised his hand and pulled off his blindfold.
The Six Eyes opened.
Azure light shimmered in the dark underground space, so clear and cold that even the air seemed to draw back.
"I expected something ugly."
His smile thinned.
"But seeing you actually hide behind civilians is still irritating."
Boom.
Invisible pressure erupted from him.
The entire platform seemed to freeze.
Jogo's single eye trembled despite himself.
For one instant, even he felt it.
Fear.
"Don't be intimidated!" Jogo roared, flames bursting from the volcano on his head. "As long as we seal his cursed technique, he's just a human!"
"Is that so?"
A razor-sharp smile curved Gojo's lips.
"Then let's test it."
His gaze swept over Jogo, Hanami, Choso, and the sea of ordinary people trembling between them.
"Let's see who's really being hunted."
.....
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