He had not expected Akira to calculate Kyoto Jujutsu High’s movements so precisely. Toge Inumaki and Panda had shown themselves, Hakari had appeared as well, and Yuta had been given the perfect stage.

  Thinking it over, Akira himself and Maki Zenin must also have been placed exactly where they belonged. Satoru Gojo felt a surge of satisfaction that he had moved quickly to bring this treasure into Tokyo Jujutsu High. If those old men from Kyoto had picked him up instead, his thick white hair would not have survived the stress.

  “At this point, I will say it plainly,” Satoru Gojo said. “Even without relying on Rika Orimoto’s power, Yuta fully deserves the title of Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

  As soon as the words fell, Noritoshi Kamo launched the first attack. His weapon was a bow, and the arrow flew straight toward Yuta’s face.

  Yuta calmly swung his blade, knocking the arrow aside and splitting the shaft in half at the same time. Unexpectedly, the front half of the arrow did not fall, but twisted in midair and shot toward the back of Yuta’s neck.

  Fortunately, Rika Orimoto reacted in time, crushing the arrow into fragments and neutralizing the attack. Surrounded, Yuta glanced at the red mixed among the fragments and recalled what Akira had told him about the signature Cursed Technique of the Kamo Clan, known as Blood Manipulation.

  Blood Manipulation allowed control over blood, attaching it to objects and bending physical rules within limits. It could also regulate blood within the body to enhance functions or directly injure enemies. It was a dangerous ability at both close and long range.

  “Rika Orimoto, destroy everything that person fires!” Yuta ordered.

  “A wise decision,” came the reply.

  Noritoshi Kamo smiled slightly, not surprised at all. The advantage of an inherited Cursed Technique was the accumulated experience of past generations, saving many detours.

  The drawback was that its information inevitably leaked, giving enemies a chance to prepare. “But your enemies are not just me,” Noritoshi Kamo continued. “Seniors, please!”

  From the left, right, and rear, three people attacked at the same time. They were third-year students of Kyoto Jujutsu High, with richer experience and seniority, and by rights the Goodwill Event should have revolved around them.

  Unfortunately, the second years included two monsters, one overwhelmingly strong and one slightly weaker but with a prestigious background, while the last was a legally petite girl barely taller than Panda, reduced to the background. That did not mean the third years were weak. It was precisely their strong performance that had allowed them to overpower Tokyo Jujutsu High in last year’s Goodwill Event.

  Sadly for them, they had met an opponent who defied common sense. He looked young, his movements were unrefined, and even a veteran could read his actions at a glance. His stance was not even particularly stable.

  Yet this novice-looking Boy casually swung his blade and forced them back with ease. One slash sent a self-proclaimed close-combat expert flying, crashing through two trees before stopping.

  Another slash deflected every ranged attack. A third slash saw Yuta Okkotsu turn defense into offense, smashing another senior into the ground as if he had been run over by a Road Roller.

  The reason for such exaggerated performance could be summed up in two words: Cursed Energy. It was the foundation upon which all Jujutsu Sorcerer relied.

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  It could be used to release Jujutsu or simply to strengthen the body, increasing speed, power, and defense. Skilled Jujutsu Sorcerer could shift its application based on the battle, optimize its use, or read an opponent’s actions through its flow. Aoi Todo and Akira were masters of this.

  Yuta Okkotsu needed none of that, because he simply had too much Cursed Energy. So much that he could reinforce his entire body at once and still have excess, even lifting his hair upward under its influence.

  Normally he seemed mediocre because he did not use Cursed Energy during basic training. In this state, Yuta Okkotsu was like a weakened version of a Super Saiyan.

  Led by Noritoshi Kamo, the representatives from Kyoto thought Yuta Okkotsu was forcing an explosive burst that would not last long. They never expected that his reckless spending of Cursed Energy would outlast them instead.

  “Do you know?” In the forest, Akira laughed, and outside, Satoru Gojo laughed as well, once again in perfect sync. “Just in terms of Cursed Energy reserves, Yuta has more than Satoru Gojo and even more than me.”

  After barely trading a few moves, Kyoto Jujutsu High clearly realized they could not fight Yuta Okkotsu in close combat. They quickly began using Jujutsu, with the melee fighters reinforcing themselves directly while the ranged fighters attacked and started Revealing One's Hand at the same time.

  The pressure on Yuta Okkotsu rose sharply, but he remained calm. He held his sword in one hand and opened his other palm toward Rika Orimoto. Rika Orimoto somehow produced an item marked with Cursed Speech Megaphone and placed it into Yuta’s hand.

  Yuta cleared his throat and spoke a single word. “Stop!”

  The movements of the four opponents froze instantly, their faces filled with shock. The atmosphere in the viewing room was much the same, as disbelief spread across everyone watching.

  “Impossible!” “Could he be from the Inumaki Clan?” “Satoru Gojo!”

  Amid Utahime Iori’s furious shout, Satoru Gojo calmly dug a finger into his ear and spoke without haste. “What makes a Special Grade a Special Grade is being special enough. Just being overpowered is not worthy of the title. My adaptive Infinity, Suguru Geto’s Cursed Spirit Manipulation, and Yuki Tsukumo’s voice.”

  “Why are you bringing this up?” Utahime Iori snapped.

  From her point of view, nothing good had happened since they entered the viewing room. Satoru Gojo kept showing off and mocking people, while the students’ performances were disappointing, and since she could not scold the students, she could only vent at Satoru Gojo.

  “Wasn’t that cursed Boy also a Special Grade?” Mei Mei said thoughtfully. As long as money was not involved, she could remain calm, even cold. “Could this be his Jujutsu or ability?”

  “As expected of Miss Mei,” Satoru Gojo said. “You were reliable even back when you were a student, unlike Utahime.” Mei Mei was his senior from another school and had been classmates with Utahime Iori.

  “I am the senior here!” Utahime Iori roared.

  She angrily threw her teacup, but it was deflected by Satoru Gojo’s passive Infinity. Even worse, Satoru Gojo took a photo of her furious expression with astonishing speed.

  He had a free hand because the plot to kill Yuta Okkotsu had been exposed, and the previously unstable surveillance quickly stabilized. It was clear that Yoshinobu Gakuganji had paid Mei Mei in advance to help cover things up.

  Satoru Gojo did not confront Mei Mei. There was no evidence, and everyone was used to her style, and Satoru Gojo himself had often paid her to get things done. As a Grade One Sorcerer, her defining trait was simple: take the money, do the job, fair to all, with excellent credit.

  “Gojo Satoru!” Utahime Iori bellowed.

  Satoru Gojo laughed loudly. “Very good, very good. Keep it up. I will show this to my student later. He really admires you, so I wonder if his dreams will shatter when he sees this.”

  “Admires me?” Utahime Iori froze.

  That hit her weak spot. One of her life rules was that she must never become like Satoru Gojo. She took pride in being a teacher trusted and respected by students.

  She lost her temper with Satoru Gojo because he was infuriating, but toward students, even those not from Kyoto Jujutsu High, she was always caring. Despite Tokyo and Kyoto standing on opposite sides, the teachers held little prejudice against each other’s students and treated Makoto’s school as a sister school.

  “That’s right, the one who looks the most steady. Are you moved? Want to sing a song?” Satoru Gojo said.

  Now his true intent was clear. Since Akira had done such a fine job, Satoru Gojo decided to play along. Whether Akira was acting on a whim or had another plan, something this fun was not something he would miss.

  “Wait, why do I have to sing?” Utahime Iori asked, still unable to follow his thinking after all these years.