Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 25

Day 25 of Transmigration

The wheels crunched over the flagstones covered in a thin layer of snow, making a slight grating sound. The closer they got to the Gojo Clan’s main residence, the more stagnant the surrounding air seemed to become. Even the sparse winter sunlight appeared filtered by an invisible barrier, lending the atmosphere a distinct chill. The ancient complex of buildings was faintly visible among the scattered mountains and forests, with flying eaves and elaborate brackets, carrying the weight and majesty of ages. It was utterly different from the relatively modern, even somewhat casual atmosphere of Jujutsu High.

Xue Yang sat in the passenger seat, watching the intricately carved stone lanterns and torii gates, etched with complex cursed markings, flash past the window. His brow furrowed unconsciously. This kind of place instinctively made him uncomfortable, like a small, wild beast suddenly thrown into a meticulously manicured, strictly regulated garden.

“Tsk, it’s utterly haunted,” he commented in a low voice.

Gojo Satoru, holding the steering wheel with one hand, chuckled at the remark. “You’ll get used to it. It’s a place where a bunch of old fossils gather, they always like to put on a show with a bit of mystery.”

The car finally stopped before a massive wooden gate, imposing in its grandeur and marked by the passage of time. Servants, dressed in traditional kimonos and bearing expressions of respectful caution, were already waiting. Seeing Gojo Satoru step out, they bowed in unison, their voices perfectly synchronized: “Satoru-sama, welcome back.”

Gojo Satoru waved a hand dismissively, then walked around to the other side and opened the door for Xue Yang. “We’re here, my little ancestor.”

Xue Yang, clutching the wooden box containing Calamity, slowly got out of the car. Today, Gojo Satoru had managed to dress him in a relatively formal black haori, which made his skin appear even fairer. Beneath his slightly curled black hair, his amber eyes scanned everything before him with unconcealed scrutiny and vigilance. His wild aura, completely out of place in this environment, instantly drew the attention of all the servants, but they were well-trained and lowered their heads, daring not to look too closely.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to meet a few of my… hmm, relatively reasonable elders,” Gojo Satoru draped an arm over Xue Yang’s shoulder, practically forcing him to step over the high threshold.

The interior of the Gojo Clan residence was even deeper and more complex than it appeared from the outside, with winding corridors and secluded, deep courtyards. Along the way, every clan member they encountered bowed respectfully to Gojo Satoru, but their gazes toward Xue Yang were filled with curiosity, probing, and even a few hints of undisguised apprehension and… disapproval. Xue Yang could clearly feel those stares, like fine needles pricking his back. He straightened his spine, a familiar, mocking, and indifferent curve playing on his lips, but his eyes grew colder.

Gojo Satoru seemed utterly oblivious, continuing to walk as he pleased with his arm around Xue Yang. Occasionally, he would casually point out a landscape feature and introduce it, his tone as relaxed as if he were on vacation.

Finally, they arrived at a spacious but solemnly atmospheric Japanese-style room. Several elderly men, dressed in montsuki haori hakama and possessing extraordinary bearing, were already seated. They were clearly the elders currently holding power in the Gojo Clan. When they saw Gojo Satoru enter, their eyes first landed on him, carrying a complex mix of reliance and exasperation, before simultaneously focusing on Xue Yang.

The air seemed to solidify.

“Satoru, you have returned,” the elder seated in the main position spoke slowly, his voice ancient but carrying unquestionable authority. “And this is… the guest you insisted on bringing back?” His gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s, as if trying to see through Xue Yang, inside and out.

Xue Yang met his gaze without flinching, even lifting his chin slightly. He could feel the powerful Cursed Energy pressure emanating from the elder, but the power of the Stygian Tiger Seal within him stirred slightly, quietly dissolving the oppressive force.

Gojo Satoru acted as if he hadn’t noticed the undercurrents, introducing Xue Yang with a grin: “That’s right, this is Xue Yang, my current student, and also…” He paused, his tone deliberately ambiguous, “someone very important to me.”

At these words, the expressions of the elders subtly shifted.

“Satoru, mind your words!” another elder said sternly. “The bloodline and rules of the Gojo Clan…”

“Rules are dead, people are alive, aren’t they?” Gojo Satoru interrupted him, his tone still light, but the eyes behind his sunglasses turned cold. “I brought him back as an announcement, not to seek your opinions. He is my guest. If anyone makes him uncomfortable…” Although he didn’t finish the sentence, the absolute pressure belonging to “The Strongest” instantly permeated the room, dropping the temperature several degrees.

The elders looked displeased, but no one dared to question him further. They knew Gojo Satoru’s temperament and strength all too well.

The subsequent so-called “meeting” proceeded in this strange and rigid atmosphere. The elders asked some innocuous questions, such as “Where are you from?” and “Who is your master?” Xue Yang dismissed them all with useless platitudes like “a very distant place” and “self-taught,” his attitude utterly perfunctory. Gojo Satoru occasionally interjected with jokes, completely dismantling the serious atmosphere the elders tried to establish.

As soon as the meeting was finally over, Gojo Satoru immediately dragged Xue Yang out.

“So annoying, talking to those old geezers shortens my lifespan.” Gojo Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, then excitedly pulled Xue Yang toward the deeper parts of the residence. “Come on, I’ll show you where I lived when I was a kid, and the storehouse! Maybe we can actually find something good!”

Gojo Satoru’s former residence was a separate courtyard, and compared to the solemnity of the main house, it was… unusually messy. Game cartridges, manga books, and dessert wrappers were strewn everywhere. The walls were also plastered with posters that looked quite childish now.

“How is it? Isn’t it full of life?” Gojo Satoru asked proudly.

Xue Yang looked at the room, which resembled a garbage dump, and his mouth twitched. “…It certainly has a lot of ‘atmosphere.’”

Under Gojo Satoru’s “guidance,” they did manage to wander around the periphery of the Gojo Clan’s storehouse (the core area required an elder’s written order, which Gojo Satoru couldn’t be bothered to get). Although they didn’t go inside, Xue Yang could feel various powerful or strange Cursed Energy fluctuations emanating from within, giving him a more direct understanding of the Gojo Clan’s deep reserves.

The New Year’s Eve banquet made Xue Yang feel like he was sitting on pins and needles. The long banquet hall was arranged according to strict seniority and status, the rituals were tedious, and the food was exquisite but cold. Countless gazes, both overt and covert, focused on him, and the whispers sounded like gnats. Xue Yang remained expressionless throughout, mechanically eating the food in front of him, feeling more exhausted than completing ten Grade 1 missions.

Gojo Satoru, however, was completely at ease, even openly serving food to Xue Yang during the banquet, picking out the carrots he disliked and putting them in his own bowl, drawing glances from everyone.

After the banquet ended, Xue Yang practically fled back to the guest room Gojo Satoru had arranged for him. The room was large and luxurious, yet its emptiness felt unsettling. He stood by the window, looking out at the continuous roofline of the Gojo Clan residence in the night, resembling the spine of a giant beast, a wave of irritation washing over him.

Just then, the door was gently pushed open, and Gojo Satoru entered, holding two cups of hot milk.

“What’s wrong? Not used to it?” He handed one cup of milk to Xue Yang.

Xue Yang took the cup, the warmth spreading from his palm. He took a sip, remaining silent.

Gojo Satoru walked over to his side, looking out at the night view with him. “I know you don’t like it here,” he said softly. “I don’t like it either. Too many rules, complicated people, and the air is stiff.”

Xue Yang stayed quiet.

“But,” Gojo Satoru turned to look at him, the moonlight streaming through the window lattice, casting a clear light in his pale blue eyes, “I brought you back to tell you that no matter how many rules there are outside, or how many people disapprove, here,” he pointed to the ground beneath their feet, then to his own chest, “with me, you can always be yourself. You don’t have to follow their rules, and you don’t have to care about their expressions.”

Xue Yang tightened his grip on the cup. He looked up at Gojo Satoru. The man’s tall figure was like a reliable mountain in the moonlight, and those eyes, usually full of mischief, now held only pure sincerity and tenderness.

The irritation and coldness in his heart seemed to be dispelled little by little by the hot milk in his hand and the man’s words.

“…Mm,” Xue Yang responded softly.

Gojo Satoru smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Drink up and get some sleep. We’ll head back first thing tomorrow morning. A new dessert shop opened next to Jujutsu High, and I heard their Mont Blanc is exceptional.”

Hearing the mention of dessert, Xue Yang’s eyes finally brightened.

The New Year experience at the Gojo Clan felt like a brief, oppressive dream. But after waking up, Xue Yang found that the sense of security brought by Gojo Satoru’s presence seemed to have become even more solid. He knew that no matter what kind of dangerous den or cage of rules lay outside, as long as this person was by his side, he had the confidence to face it, and a place to retreat to.

This feeling wasn’t bad. He finished the milk in his cup, thinking. In fact, it was kind of good.