Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 12

Day Twelve of Transmigration

Following the “practical exchange,” Gojo Satoru’s training regimen for Xue Yang officially began. Mornings were usually dedicated to physical combat and Cursed Energy fundamentals, while afternoons interspersed lessons on modern common sense with… frequent visits to dessert shops.

On the training grounds, Gojo Satoru was uncharacteristically serious.

“Your combat instincts and footwork are excellent, but you rely too much on trickery and aiming for one-hit kills. You lack systematic defense and continuous exertion techniques,” Gojo Satoru easily parried Xue Yang’s tricky sneak attack. With a counter-push, a gentle yet irresistible force sent Xue Yang flying several meters away. “Cursed Energy, simply put, is power derived from human negative emotions. Try to feel the energy flowing within you. Not your ‘Spiritual Energy’ or whatever else from your world, but the power that comes from your own emotions, especially the negative ones. Wrap it around your fist.”

Xue Yang caught his breath, wiping sweat from his brow, his eyes burning with defiant intensity. He closed his eyes and tried. Initially, he couldn’t grasp it; he was accustomed to mobilizing resentment, Yin energy, or relying directly on the tyrannical power of the Stygian Tiger Seal. But soon, he captured a thread of energy within his body that was similar to resentment yet different—more chaotic and volatile. He attempted to guide it. Black Cursed Energy, carrying an ominous aura, wrapped around his fist like a thin mist. Although sparse and unstable, it had indeed appeared.

“Oh?” Gojo Satoru raised an eyebrow, surprised by his speed. “Not bad! Though the color is a bit unique… Keep going, try to control it and stabilize it.”

During breaks, Gojo Satoru acted like a clumsy tutor, teaching Xue Yang to recognize all the Japanese hiragana and katakana (Xue Yang learned quickly but often complained about the distorted characters), explaining the currency system, traffic laws, and even briefly introducing Japan’s history and social structure. Xue Yang listened distractedly but showed immense interest in mobile payment and internet search functions.

Dessert, meanwhile, became a strange bond between the two. Gojo Satoru was enthusiastic about taking Xue Yang to sample the signature items at Tokyo’s major dessert shops, from rich cakes to refreshing parfaits, from traditional wagashi to innovative western pastries. Though Xue Yang never admitted it, he always finished everything, and he even began to distinguish the subtle differences in sweetness between various establishments. Watching him devour the treats, Gojo Satoru thought this was perhaps the most “harmless” he ever looked.

Gojo Satoru attempted to delve deeper into Xue Yang’s mind, casually asking about his past experiences during small talk, or correcting some of his overly radical statements. But Xue Yang’s vigilance was extremely high, like a severely wounded wild beast constantly curled up inside a thick shell. When probed, he either deflected with lies or used a mocking laugh to steer the conversation away. His psychological defenses were impenetrable.

The students at Jujutsu High were also curious about Xue Yang. During breaks, Kugisaki Nobara and Panda would approach him.

“Xue Yang, what was the place you lived before like? Did you have Cursed Spirits there too?” Nobara asked curiously.

Xue Yang, without batting an eye, began to spin a tale: “Where I lived? The mountains were beautiful and the water clear. We didn’t have many Cursed Spirits, but there were plenty of sprites and mountain demons. I followed my master in the mountains since I was young, catching demons for fun.” He spoke vividly, as if it were all true.

Fushiguro Megumi listened silently nearby, his face clearly expressing “I don’t believe it.”

Just then, Gojo Satoru strolled over, sucking on a lollipop, and mercilessly exposed him: “Don’t listen to his nonsense. Where he came from, things were much more vicious than sprites. As for the specifics…” He drew out his words, and under Xue Yang’s warning glare, he laughed and changed the subject. “It’s classified information! Oh, right, Xue Yang, you’re coming with me on a mission tomorrow.”

Xue Yang pouted, unhappy that Gojo Satoru had interrupted his attempt to fool his peers, but his eyes lit up at the mention of a “mission.”

The next day, Gojo Satoru drove Xue Yang to the mission location. In the car, Gojo Satoru tossed Xue Yang a folder.

“This is for you. Open it and take a look.”

Xue Yang opened it to find a brand new identification card and a bank card. The name on both was “Xue Yang,” and the photo was the one taken when he first arrived at Jujutsu High, his mouth still curved in a reluctant arc.

“What is this…”

“Proof of identity and a bank card. You can’t live here without them,” Gojo Satoru said while driving. “Take out your phone, I’ll teach you how to link the payment app.”

He instructed Xue Yang step-by-step on how to associate the bank card with the mobile payment software. “From now on, if you want to buy something, or go out for dessert by yourself, you can use this to pay.”

Xue Yang fiddled with the phone, looking at the payment interface on the screen, finding it quite novel. “Is there money in it?”

“Yep, transferred you some pocket money,” Gojo Satoru said casually.

Xue Yang checked the balance, counted the long string of digits—two million yen. He paused, then looked up at Gojo Satoru’s profile. “Why are you being so good to me?”

Gojo Satoru kept his eyes on the road, lightly tapping the steering wheel, answering nonchalantly: “I wanted to be good to you, so I did it. Do I need a reason?”

Xue Yang stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly scoffed, turning his gaze away to look at the scenery flashing past the window. He didn’t say he believed it, nor did he say he didn’t, but the smile on his lips held an indescribable complexity.

The mission location was an ordinary prefectural middle school. According to the report, six students in a second-year boys’ dormitory, out of curiosity, had imitated a summoning game from the land of flowers called “Spirit Pen.” Afterward, the dormitory members began to suffer one incident after another. Four people had died so far, all in bizarre ways, ruled as “accidents” or “suicides,” but residual Cursed Energy traces indicated a Cursed Spirit was responsible.

The two arrived in front of the temporarily sealed dormitory building. A faint, chilling aura of a curse permeated the air.

“Spirit Pen, huh…” Gojo Satoru rubbed his chin. “Sounds like a ritual that would gather intense resentment and fear. The residual Cursed Energy isn’t weak. Looks like an interesting fellow has been bred. Xue Yang, you’re responsible for finding it and exorcising it. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Xue Yang licked his canine tooth, a bloodthirsty glint flashing in his eyes, and walked alone into the gloomy dormitory building. Following the increasingly strong cursed aura, he quickly found the Cursed Spirit at the door of the affected dorm room. It was a twisted entity composed of countless broken pencils and scrawled handwriting, enveloped in intense fear and hatred.

The Cursed Spirit sensed the presence of a living person and let out a piercing shriek, like chalk scraping a blackboard, lunging forward fiercely!

Xue Yang sneered, black Cursed Energy surging around him, ready to meet the attack. However, the moment he mobilized his power, the dormant Stygian Tiger Seal within him seemed to be stirred by the homologous Yin resentment, vibrating slightly. A strange feeling surged through him. He had an inspiration: instead of attacking directly, he tried sinking a thread of his consciousness into the Stygian Tiger Seal, directing a commanding thought toward the Cursed Spirit.

Something astonishing happened. The Cursed Spirit, which had been wildly lunging, suddenly froze mid-motion. Its twisted body stopped in mid-air, emitting confused “clacking” sounds. It ceased its attack and instead hovered timidly before Xue Yang, as if restrained by invisible chains, waiting for an instruction.

Xue Yang was stunned, and then an incredible light erupted in his eyes. He could control it? Because of the Stygian Tiger Seal? The essence of this Cursed Spirit was concentrated resentment and fear, and the Stygian Tiger Seal was the ultimate treasure for manipulating resentment and commanding fierce corpses! In this world, could even these “Cursed Spirits,” formed by negative emotions, be affected or even controlled by the Stygian Tiger Seal?

He tried to command the Cursed Spirit with his mind: “Disperse.”

The Cursed Spirit, made of pencils and handwriting, trembled violently, seemingly extremely resistant, but finally, amidst an unwilling shriek, its form gradually disintegrated, turning into pure cursed energy. A portion of it was silently absorbed by the Stygian Tiger Seal within Xue Yang, and the rest dissipated into the air.

Xue Yang stood rooted to the spot, feeling a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of satisfaction emanating from the Stygian Tiger Seal, a smile crossing his face—a mixture of surprise and extreme excitement.

This world was indeed far more interesting than he had imagined.

He walked out of the dormitory building. Gojo Satoru was leaning against the car, playing on his phone. Seeing him emerge, he looked up and asked, “Solved? That was fast.”

Xue Yang walked up to him, his smile bright, revealing his two sharp canine teeth. “Solved. Gojo-sensei, the ‘Cursed Spirits’ here are truly fascinating.”

Gojo Satoru looked at his smile, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his sunglasses. He sensed it—the aura around Xue Yang had undergone an extremely subtle change, and the way he had dealt with the Cursed Spirit was likely not a standard exorcism.