Chapter 8: A Jujutsu Sorcerer's Daily Life

After more than half a year, the "wait a while" Masamichi Yaga had spoken of had finally arrived.

The new book was already midway through the intermediate volume—and only now did the moment finally come!

That morning, just before dawn, Masamichi Yaga appeared at the door.

"Ready?"

He was dressed in a black formal suit today, giving off a rather solemn air.

"Just a sec!"

Sōjun Minamoto, well-versed in the layout, quickly found the key and unlocked the basement door.

This was Mrs. Minamoto's weapon arsenal.

Inside, a dozen life-sized wooden dummies stood in the center, their surfaces riddled with slashes and puncture marks.

The walls were lined with every kind of weapon imaginable—swords, spears, sabers, halberds, axes, hooks, and forks.

The collection was impressively complete.

But most abundant were the throwing and projectile weapons—flying knives, axes, arrows, short spears—all neatly arranged on multiple tool racks.

The purpose of this armory wasn’t hard to grasp. One only needed to consider Mrs. Minamoto’s Innate Technique.

Puppet manipulation comes in many forms—some control mechs, others control weapons, and yes, some even control dolls. Speaking of which... Masamichi Yaga, that’s you!

Currently, Mrs. Minamoto was likely around Semi-Grade 1, placing her among the top-tier in the Jujutsu world. Her technique was inherited from the Yaga family. She had a passion for blades and weapons since childhood, and naturally, her development skewed toward that direction.

She was also a blacksmith.

To amplify the power of her techniques, she deliberately studied Cursed Tool crafting.

Cursed Tools—weapons imbued with curses, dangerous yet protective—are graded from 1 to 4, like sorcerers. The higher the grade, the more powerful the tool.

Forging one isn’t easy.

From drafting blueprints to selecting materials, forging, refining, tempering, assembling, polishing, and even painting—the process is painstakingly complex. Not to mention the specialized tools and extensive prep work involved.

With a success rate as low as one in ten—or even one in a hundred—creating a Cursed Tool demands the perfect timing, location, and personal effort. Only then can it fully harmonize with the user's Innate Technique and unleash its full potential.

Naturally, the armory wasn’t full of Cursed Tools—ordinary weapons made up the majority.

She wasn’t particularly gifted at forging.

Sōjun Minamoto thought something that would probably upset Mrs. Minamoto if she ever heard it.

Aside from the ones she’d collected, there were only a few Cursed Tools she personally forged, fewer than five in total.

Sōjun Minamoto had picked up a bit of forging technique too.

Cursed Tools were valuable, and he had always maintained them with care. Over time, the constant exposure taught him a few tricks. He practiced often, and combined with the knowledge from the new Jujutsu Guide, his success rate with crafting Cursed Tools had quietly surpassed hers.

After years of martial training and frequent practice, he was no stranger to weapons.

Although he preferred close combat—the raw impact of punches, elbows, knees, and kicks—the immediate feedback helped him react faster.

Still, wielding a weapon always offered an advantage.

At least until his body became tougher and sharper than a Cursed Tool, he’d need a solid weapon.

He picked up a sword, shook his head, and set it down—too refined.

Then a long blade—he wiped along its edge but wasn’t satisfied. The single edge lacked balance in offense and defense.

A double-edged axe—too bulky.

Spears and halberds—too long, not portable.

Hooks and forks—too awkward.

...

After browsing through them all, he finally just grabbed a pair of short spikes.

Each about 30 cm long, dual-edged and diamond-tipped at both ends, the center wrapped in dark gauze. They resembled handheld, ringless Emei piercers.

They were also among the few Cursed Tools Mrs. Minamoto had forged herself.

Sōjun Minamoto twirled them around his fingers a few times before fastening them behind his waist. His blood began to warm—excitement bubbling up.

He stepped out of the basement and stood before Masamichi Yaga.

"Ready."

After years as a Fly Heads killer, and longer still buried in academia, he was finally heading into real combat.

In his past life, he was just an ordinary guy. He hadn’t suddenly become extraordinary after arriving in this world. He simply stuck to what he was good at—studying—and that made him seem competent.

But now, he was stepping into the unknown. How well he’d do, he didn’t know.

At his core, he was still that ordinary person—just a bit more accomplished.

"Let’s go," Masamichi Yaga said, leading him out the door and into a black sedan.

They were quiet at first. After driving for a while, Masamichi Yaga finally spoke.

"This is a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit extermination mission. A cursed spirit has formed inside a juvenile reformatory. It’s extremely dangerous—15 injured, 9 dead. We need to eliminate it immediately."

He sounded like he’d switched into... some kind of mission mode?!

Zzz—

They arrived quickly. Masamichi Yaga parked by the curb, and the two approached the reformatory’s main gate.

The area had been cordoned off. No access allowed. Masamichi Yaga flashed his ID, and no one stopped them as they made their way to the entrance.

"The cursed energy here is thick," Sōjun Minamoto said, looking up.

Dark mist billowed upward, gathering above the reformatory into a churning black cloud. The aura inside boiled—oppressive and heavy.

Masamichi Yaga didn’t reply. He observed the building carefully for a moment.

Then, raising his right hand, he bent his ring and pinky fingers, pressed his thumb to their knuckles, and held his extended index and middle fingers in front of his mouth.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

It was the Curtain.

Sōjun Minamoto’s memory clicked into place.

The new Jujutsu Guide described it in detail: form the sword-point hand sign, chant the spell, and channel cursed energy to deploy the barrier—known as the Curtain.

He recalled the key points: only the right-hand gesture was for chanting; the spell had to be whispered clearly without error; and cursed energy needed to be controlled—not too much, not too little...

A thick, ink-like liquid poured from above, spreading into a black hemispherical barrier that enveloped the entire reformatory.

"Let’s go. Ordinary people can’t see the Curtain. Even if they can see through it, they have no idea what’s going on inside."

Masamichi Yaga entered first.

Sōjun Minamoto followed. Inside the Curtain, the air felt noticeably darker. Everything was cloaked in shadows.

They hadn’t walked far when they saw it—a human-like centipede. Its abdomen was covered in countless eyes. The enormous body coiled around the building, spewing cursed energy into the sky and murmuring eerie whispers.

They moved in a few steps. Suddenly, half the creature’s eyes shifted, locking onto them with a chilling gaze. The pupils trembled, bulging with bloodshot veins.

Masamichi Yaga curled his fingers, holding his hand above the teddy bear’s head. Cursed energy surged. The bear grinned, a shadow creasing its face from nose to brow.

From that doll’s face—ferocity.

"Go!"

Sōjun Minamoto felt the space twist—the bear vanished.

It reappeared above the centipede.

The curse tracked the bear with its eyes, but couldn’t stop it. The bear pummeled its abdomen, bursting eyes with every hit. Flesh and gore flew in all directions.

The cursed spirit screamed, writhing and crushing the building in an attempt to destroy the bear.

But it was too small and agile. It dodged with ease, darting through attacks. The curse, helpless, smashed half the building in agony.

Dust exploded outward, masking everything. The sounds of battle faded... and then, silence.

Sōjun Minamoto fanned the air. As the dust settled, the centipede lay sprawled on the ground, massive and defeated. Atop its head stood the small bear, a stark contrast in size.

He walked through the rubble. Here and there, remnants of bodies were still visible.

He reached out and placed a hand on the cursed spirit’s corpse, silently sensing.

The cursed spirit began to dissolve into black mist, which rose into the sky. The dark clouds above the reformatory slowly dissipated.

Where did all that cursed energy go?

Sōjun Minamoto watched, eyes narrowing.

He couldn’t quite describe how he felt.

He wasn’t afraid. Nor was he disgusted by the blood and flesh.

He’d heard before: don’t be curious about the stench of death. It’s not like anything else. When you smell it for the first time, your instincts will scream—it’s the scent of a corpse. The sensitive ones panic. It’s hardwired into human DNA.

He waved the air again, strangely calm.

"See? Human life is fragile," Masamichi Yaga said, standing beside him. "Places like schools and hospitals—filled with memories—are prime spots for curses to accumulate. Cursed Spirits tend to stay where they were born."

"If we can exorcise them before the casualties mount, there’s still hope for these places to recover. Thankfully, this case was caught in time..."

Masamichi Yaga didn’t finish, but Sōjun Minamoto filled in the rest in his mind:

There are countless places out there—remote villages, dark city corners—where tens of thousands die quietly at the hands of Cursed Spirits.

"There’s no truce between humans and Cursed Spirits. A Jujutsu Sorcerer’s life is spent pulling people back from the brink of death—or offering up their own life in return."

Silence fell between them.

"Let’s go. Still more tasks today. We’ll need to move quickly." Masamichi Yaga caught the teddy bear and casually tucked it into his pocket.

"The next target is a Grade 3 Cursed Spirit. You can handle it—so I’ll leave it to you."

"...Yeah."

Sōjun Minamoto let out a shaky breath. His hands trembled. His teeth clacked.

It felt like he was at the peak of a rollercoaster—right before the drop. His heart pounded, pumping blood through every limb.

His gaze dropped. His body stilled.

His hands were steady again.

…

The mission site was a village.

The report about Cursed Spirits showing up here came directly from the villagers. One of the elders, being quite superstitious, noticed something strange and kept an eye on it. When things started to get weird, he promptly reported it.

So by the time Sōjun Minamoto and the others arrived, no casualties had occurred, and all the villagers had been safely moved to the village square.

The Cursed Spirit had been sighted in the western part of the village.

After arriving, Masamichi Yaga stepped aside without a word, as agreed—everything would be handled by Sōjun Minamoto.

Sōjun Minamoto wasn’t rattled. He calmed himself and began carefully observing this section of the village.

The curse concentration wasn’t nearly as heavy as a Grade 1. In fact, it wasn’t even close.

The intel was accurate—the Cursed Spirit was about Grade 3.

Sōjun Minamoto raised his sword fingers and silently chanted: "Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

At the same time, he channeled his Cursed Energy.

A darker-than-usual black liquid appeared above the village.

Sōjun Minamoto frowned and withdrew some of his energy. The black faded to a lighter shade and successfully dripped down, forming a Barrier that enveloped the western corner of the village.

He walked into the Curtain alone.

Inside, there were still signs of life—some houses hadn’t even shut their doors. You could see food on the tables, still steaming.

The village wasn’t large, and only about a third of it was enclosed in the Curtain. The space was even more confined.

He soon located the Cursed Spirit.

It looked like an upright penguin—bloated body supported by human legs, a vertical zipper-like mouth running down its abdomen, a triangular head, and three evenly spaced eyes across its face, replacing all other features.

The moment Sōjun Minamoto spotted it, it saw him too. Blood vessels in its eyes bulged, and its pointed head split open at the top, revealing rows of jagged, uneven teeth.

A quick glance showed it had three rows each on the top and bottom. He wasn’t distracted—he simply gathered a ton of information in that split second.

For example, the mouth on its abdomen was a decoy.

And the mouth at the top of its head housed a jet organ in the throat.

Sōjun Minamoto shifted his stance slightly, watching as the jet organ contracted and bulged. As expected, a stream of murky yellow fluid shot out—he dodged it preemptively.

He didn’t attack right away. Instead, he observed, gathering firsthand intel. Even though Masamichi Yaga had briefed him on the spirit, Sōjun Minamoto trusted his own eyes and what he could sense directly.

When the Cursed Spirit’s attack failed, it charged at him...

So, the jet mechanism can’t fire continuously?

Its legs barely supported its bulk, and its running speed was mediocre. The legs didn’t seem to have any special features.

Its short, wing-like arms had decent muscle mass, probably suited for slaps or swipes, but they’d only be effective in close quarters.

Its attack options were limited. Was it relying on body slams and bites?

Sōjun Minamoto drew a short spike, the muscles in his arm flexing tightly. With a sudden flick, the spike flew ahead of his motion and pierced directly into the spirit’s gaping maw.

The Cursed Spirit let out a bloodcurdling scream. Its momentum halted immediately as it grabbed its head with its stubby wings and howled in pain.

Of course, Sōjun Minamoto didn’t just stand there. He closed in with a burst of speed. Planting his left foot forward as an axis, he swung his right leg, twisting his waist and driving power into a knee-popped side kick aimed at the spirit’s thigh.

Crack!

The sound of bone snapping echoed out as the spirit collapsed onto one knee.

The whole sequence was smooth and fluid. The Cursed Spirit only managed to spit out a bit of acid and stumble forward a few steps.

Sōjun Minamoto kicked it over, stepped on the fake mouth on its abdomen, yanked the short spike free—and then, one by one...stabbed out its eyes.

He didn’t really know why, but he always had this strong urge to go for the eyes. Kind of like when he was a kid and saw those little bubbles on bubble wrap—he couldn’t resist popping them, over and over again.

Especially with Cursed Spirits like this—mm! Round and juicy.

The spirit howled a few more times before finally falling silent.

They had flesh and blood while alive, but upon death, they quickly dissolved into lingering curses and faded away.

So Sōjun Minamoto stayed clean—no need to hold back during an exorcism.

That definitely saved some hassle.

He tried to trap the residual curse energy rising into the air.

No luck—it slipped right through his palm without leaving a trace.

He didn’t mind. With a casual flick, he shook off the spike and kept it in hand.

Now he understood why Masamichi Yaga had shaken his doll earlier—it was about mental cleanliness.

...

Back at Masamichi Yaga’s side, Sōjun Minamoto watched as the Curtain slowly faded. He was in a pretty good mood.

“It’s good that you took the time to observe before acting,” Masamichi Yaga suddenly said. “A lot of Jujutsu Sorcerers rely too much on mission intel and don’t assess the actual situation. That kind of mindset gets people killed.”

“Your martial arts fundamentals are solid—almost too solid. You’re throwing in unnecessary flair. That’s something to fix. Many sorcerers die because they burn too much energy and waste Cursed Energy without restraint.”

“Also...” Masamichi Yaga looked over at him. “What, you’ve got a thing for torturing Cursed Spirits? Remember—there’s only one goal in a mission: completely exorcise the Cursed Spirit. Don’t get distracted. Stay alert at all times. A lot of Jujutsu Sorcerers let their guard down after an easy win—and end up dead.”

Masamichi Yaga gave his thoughts on how Sōjun Minamoto handled the exorcism. Sōjun listened carefully. Overall, it went well, but there were definitely some flaws.

Experience breeds understanding. Don’t be fooled by how easy the fight looked—it was only a Grade 3, after all. Still, plenty of issues came to light. No matter—identifying and addressing problems is what matters. At least he still had the chance to fix them. He hadn’t become one of those “many Jujutsu Sorcerers” Yaga talked about.

“Oh, and your Cursed Energy control’s solid!” Yaga added at the end.

“...”

He had completed two missions today. By the time he left the village, the sky was already dark.

Dinner was rushed.

To sum up the day in one line:

Exorcising curses—and heading to the next one.

That’s the life of an ordinary Jujutsu Sorcerer.