Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 27

Day 27 of Transmigration

After the New Year, life at Jujutsu High resumed its normal rhythm, yet something felt subtly different. The sharp, untouchable aura that usually surrounded Xue Yang had visibly softened. He still mocked Yuji for being slow-witted, complained loudly about Nobara’s shouting during training, and called Fushiguro Megumi’s expressionless face “stone-faced,” but everyone could sense that this was no longer born of pure malice or rejection. It was more like… the teasing that comes with familiarity, even carrying a hint of barely noticeable affection.

Maki’s return made the first-year physical training sessions even more “brutal.” With two combat veterans paired up, the training grounds were often dusty, filled with the grating sound of fists and feet colliding. More often than not, after adapting to Xue Yang’s insidious fighting style, Maki began to use her more solid fundamentals and strength to suppress him. When thrown down, Xue Yang would climb back up, grimacing, his eyes shining as he searched for the next opening to counterattack. This evenly matched contest left both of them feeling thoroughly exhilarated.

“Not bad. You’re much tougher than before,” Maki said, putting away her bamboo sword and looking at Xue Yang as he got up from the ground, offering a rare compliment.

Xue Yang wiped the sweat and dust from his face and scoffed, “You’re just getting slower, old hag.”

A vein pulsed on Maki’s forehead. “Do you want to die, you brat!”

Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara watched with relish nearby, even starting to bet on who would be knocked down first in the next round.

Gojo Satoru’s special training also entered a new phase. He began demanding that Xue Yang attempt to control higher-grade or specially-abled Cursed Spirits, no longer limiting him to simple commands. Instead, he simulated various complex combat scenarios, training Xue Yang in tactical coordination with the controlled Cursed Spirits.

In the underground training facility, a quasi-Grade 1 Cursed Spirit, skilled in mental pollution and creating illusions, was frantically releasing waves that distorted space. Xue Yang closed his eyes and focused. The black Cursed Energy around him intertwined with the power of the Stygian Tiger Seal, spreading out like an invisible spiderweb, forcefully invading the Cursed Spirit’s chaotic core. Fine beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and his face was pale—clearly, this was not easy.

“Interfere with its perception! Create an illusion of its greatest fear and make it backfire!” Gojo Satoru’s voice provided calm guidance from the side.

Xue Yang gritted his teeth, his spiritual sense acting like the most precise surgical knife, plucking the string representing “fear” deep within the Cursed Spirit’s consciousness. The Cursed Spirit’s massive body suddenly stiffened, letting out an incomparably shrill scream. The illusionary energy that had been attacking Xue Yang abruptly reversed, consuming the spirit itself, which twisted and struggled madly in place.

“Now! Exorcise it!” Gojo Satoru commanded.

Xue Yang snapped his eyes open. The sword Calamity shot out like a dragon, its clear light, like moonlight, accurately piercing the core that the Cursed Spirit had exposed through its self-collapse! There was no earth-shattering explosion. With a final, unwilling whimper, the Cursed Spirit dissolved into pure cursed energy, part of which was absorbed by the Stygian Tiger Seal, and the rest dissipated into the air.

Xue Yang leaned on his sword, breathing slightly, feeling the growth of power within him and a deeper compatibility with Calamity.

“Nicely done!” Gojo Satoru walked over and handed him a bottle of water. “You’re getting increasingly skilled at reverse-controlling mental-type Cursed Spirits. It seems Calamity really suits you.”

Xue Yang took the water and gulped a few mouthfuls. He looked at the long sword, which flowed with clear radiance, and remained silent, but the slight upturn of his lips betrayed his mood. This sword was indeed… easier to handle and gave him more peace of mind than Calamity.

During his free time, Xue Yang no longer always holed up in his room playing games. He would be dragged to the shopping district by Yuji and Nobara. Although he still showed little interest in most shops, at least he wouldn’t sneak away halfway through. He even started using the card Gojo Satoru had given him (the balance of which seemed inexhaustible) to treat them, though his tone remained irritatingly condescending: “Since you’re all so pathetic, the teacher is treating.”

Once, they passed a newly opened Chinese dessert shop. Xue Yang stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the familiar almond tofu and osmanthus cake in the window.

“Huh? Xue Yang, do you want to eat that?” Yuji asked curiously.

Xue Yang stared at the smooth, white almond tofu, his gaze distant, as if seeing far beyond it. “…Let’s try it.”

In the end, he nearly finished an entire serving of almond tofu by himself, followed by a long silence. Nobara and Yuji exchanged a look, wisely choosing not to ask further questions.

Back at Jujutsu High, Xue Yang, for the first time, voluntarily went to the kitchen (after getting permission and promising not to blow it up). Relying on vague memories, he fiddled around for a long time and actually managed to make a plate of osmanthus cake that didn’t look great but tasted about seventy to eighty percent accurate.

That evening, he placed the plate of osmanthus cake on the table in Gojo Satoru’s room.

When Gojo Satoru returned and saw it, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. He picked up a piece and tasted it. The sweetness was moderate, carrying a faint scent of osmanthus. Although the craftsmanship was clumsy, the effort was evident.

“Oh, has the sun risen in the west? Our Xue Yang is making snacks now?” Gojo Satoru teased him with a smile.

Xue Yang turned his head away, his ears slightly red. “…Eat it, and shut up.”

Gojo Satoru looked at his awkward demeanor, his heart melting completely. He knew that this seemingly ordinary plate of pastries was Xue Yang’s attempt to establish a deeper connection with this new world, and a clumsy way of reciprocating his kindness.

At night, Gojo Satoru still held Xue Yang while sleeping, without fail. Xue Yang had progressed from initial stiff resistance to passive acceptance, and now to… occasionally adjusting himself into a more comfortable position in his arms. Sometimes, when Gojo Satoru returned late from a business trip, Xue Yang would groggily complain, “You’re so loud,” and instinctively burrow deeper into his embrace.

Gojo Satoru clearly felt all these subtle changes. He knew that Xue Yang’s heavily guarded fortress was being conquered from the inside, little by little, by his infinite patience, indulgence, and sweets.

One afternoon, Xue Yang was practicing the Calamity sword technique alone in the training field, the setting sun casting a long shadow. Fushiguro Megumi quietly walked over and watched for a while.

“Your swordsmanship is quite different from your physical fighting style,” Fushiguro Megumi suddenly said.

Xue Yang stopped his movements and looked at him. “Calamity was a sword for killing. Calamity… is different.” He paused, then added, “Gojo Satoru said this is the sword that represents ‘future.’”

Fushiguro Megumi nodded, asking no further questions, only saying, “It suits you well.”

Those simple three words made Xue Yang momentarily stunned. He lowered his head to look at Calamity, which flowed with clear radiance, then looked up at the brilliant sunset in the sky. In the land of his heart, which had been barren for too long, new seeds seemed to be quietly sprouting.

He was still himself, Xue Yang from another world, with blood on his hands and a wicked disposition. But he was also slowly getting used to the sunshine, the snow, the noisy classmates, the annoying yet powerful teacher, and the sword in his hand named Calamity.

This life, with its excitement nestled in tranquility, and warmth hidden in the noise—a life with fights to be fought, sweets to be eaten, and people to rely on.

It didn’t seem… bad at all.

He even began to feel that the wish he had made under the New Year fireworks—the wish to keep living like this—might not be entirely out of reach.