Mahito looked up.
The sun's afterglow hadn't yet faded, painting the clouds on the horizon a pale yellow.
The streetlights weren't on yet, and the entire world seemed to be sinking into a sallow void.
There were almost no pedestrians on the road, and those who were present hurried away.
Everyone seemed to be fleeing as an inexplicable sense of dread began to spread.
Then, he lowered his head and looked forward.
A cramped grocery store stood before him.
It was an old wooden building with sliding doors and paper windows that looked like they could be silently punctured with a wet finger.
One could tell at a glance that this cramped shop had a long history; Mahito suspected it dated back to before World War II.
Kenjaku, who was leading the way, couldn't help but chuckle.
He whispered, "Incredible, isn't it? This is our destination."
"Make no mistake, I haven't lost my way."
"It's right here—the founder of the New Shadow Style, who has lived since ancient times, is right behind this door."
Kenjaku knocked gently on the door.
A slow, elderly voice responded from inside, "Coming."
Clatter, clatter.
The sliding door was slowly pulled open, and an old man who looked like he'd collapse in a light breeze appeared before Mahito 's eyes.
Kenjaku spread his arms wide and said happily, "Long time no see, old friend."
"How have you been? Your old friend has come to visit."
The old man slowly looked up.
He was very short, not even reaching Kenjaku's chest, so he had to tilt his head back as far as possible to see Kenjaku's face.
He wore a white towel on his head to cover his gray hair, but it was wrapped loosely, and a large amount of curly white hair peeked out from behind it, looking relatively well-kept.
His limbs were as fragile as dry twigs, with almost no visible muscle, looking like skin stretched over bone.
His blue veins were clearly visible, but they appeared as dry as a parched riverbed.
When he looked up, he opened his eyes as wide as he could.
But to Mahito , those eyes were as cloudy as a blind man's, with the whites and the pupils indistinguishable from one another.
Mahito suspected that if he just gave him a light push, he'd have to kneel down and beg the man not to die.
His voice also carried a heavy elderly tone—mumbled and thick, as if he were speaking with something in his mouth.
"...It's you."
"It's me, old friend. Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Kenjaku lowered his hands and tucked them back into his wide sleeves.
"I want to refuse."
The old man seemed to struggle for breath before eventually giving up and taking two steps back.
"But I cannot refuse... How on earth did you find me here? No one should know."
Kenjaku led Mahito boldly into the grocery store.
The interior was just as cramped as the exterior suggested, with hardly any room to move.
There were only a few narrow paths wide enough for one person.
Shelves were packed against the walls, mostly stocked with daily necessities.
Mahito looked around and saw that everything was cheap, lacking even modern decorations or stickers.
It was so old that it felt as if time had stopped.
"Please wait a moment."
The old man moved slowly.
He reached out to move a box, and Kenjaku stepped forward to help, easily moving it aside to clear a small space.
The old man hung a "Closed" sign on the sliding door and shut it.
Kenjaku curiously opened the box, which was filled with layers of cloth.
The old man came over and picked up the top layer, revealing several cushions underneath.
The old man spread the cloth on the floor, and Kenjaku naturally took three cushions and placed them on top.
Mahito 's mouth finally couldn't help but twitch.
"Is this really necessary?"
"The legendary founder of the New Shadow Style, the hidden boss with ambitions to rule the Jujutsu world... you're really not one for formalities, are you?"
He really didn't care for appearances.
If he hadn't known this was the man himself, Mahito would have thought he had come to a destitute little grocery store.
Seeing his skeletal frame, Mahito even wondered if he could get enough to eat.
The old man glanced at Mahito and lowered his head to request of Kenjaku:
"I can no longer use Cursed Techniques."
"Please set up a barrier; I don't want our conversation to be overheard by that person."
Uraume's smile faded slightly. "Is she still watching you?"
"She's watching quite intently."
The old man sat kneeling on the cushion, his body curled into a ball, looking quite pitiful.
"I don't have your ability to escape her surveillance."
"I have no choice; you know my talent for Jujutsu isn't strong."
"I've only managed to linger on like this thanks to a Binding Vow."
"Hehe, sometimes I wonder, in this state, even if I truly rule the Jujutsu world in the future, would I be able to be happy?"
Kenjaku glanced at Mahito beside him and requested with a full smile:
"Please, I can't let her detect my Cursed Energy residue yet."
"Don't use a regular isolation barrier; use the one I taught you."
Mahito recalled the knowledge Kenjaku had taught him.
There was indeed a barrier specialized for modern society.
This barrier could not only isolate the flow of Cursed Energy between the inside and outside but also block electronic signals.
Kenjaku often used this barrier in the original story.
Mahito snapped his fingers, and invisible ripples spread out from him as the center, eventually clinging to the four walls of the grocery store.
He sat down leisurely on the cushion—not kneeling, but in a more relaxed cross-legged position.
"To think you can use such a barrier without even using hand signs," the old man marveled.
"You have a good student, Kenjaku."
"Alright, I guarantee that what follows won't be heard by Tengen," Kenjaku said easily.
"Fortunately, I only called you 'old friend' and didn't say your name."
"I'm sure if I had, Tengen would have noticed me immediately."
"That was close, truly close."
At this time, Tengen had not yet evolved into a god, and her computing power still had its limits.
Her search capability was like the US monitoring its own citizens' phones, with specific keywords set; only when a keyword was triggered would Tengen's gaze shift over.
As Tengen's old rival, Kenjaku knew Tengen all too well.
"But Tengen will still send people here."
"The barrier only ensures our conversation isn't heard, but it can't guarantee she won't notice something is wrong."
"The moment you deployed the barrier, the countdown began... Kenjaku, you'd better state your purpose quickly," the old man said.
"Don't be so nervous, old friend," Kenjaku said with a smile.
"Look, I've brought you a gift."
The old man slowly turned his gaze toward Mahito . "And you are?"
"Immortal ... You might not have heard of this name, but you must have heard of my other title," Mahito said.
"The King of Curses," the old man said with a groan.
"The first Intelligent Cursed Spirit since the birth of the Jujutsu world."
"Possessing the special ability to evolve ordinary people into Jujutsu Sorcerers and take Jujutsu Sorcerers to the next level."
"Humanity's curse against humanity."
"And finally... the Shell Spirit that 'trades in eternal life'."
Mahito smiled. "It seems I underestimated the intelligence network of the people in the world."
The old man's voice suddenly became urgent.
He was usually slow, but now he seemed like a young lad who hadn't yet experienced the world.
He said urgently, "Come, let me see! Let me see that Zenin-giri!"
"Zenin-giri?" Mahito 's mouth twitched.
It seemed the impact of destroying the Zenin clan was even greater than imagined.
Even an old man in this remote corner knew the intel of that battle.
Satoru Gojo must be searching the whole world for clues, right?
Thinking of this, Mahito felt an even greater sense of urgency; he had to continue growing at the fastest possible speed and could not stop.
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