In the Heian period, on the outskirts of Kyoto, there was a village controlled by a sorcerer clan.
Zen'in Genji was nineteen years old then, standing on the stone steps at the village entrance. Instead of his iconic indigo hunting robes, he had changed into a simple dark blue everyday outfit, his long hair tied at the back of his head with a strip of cloth, looking like an ordinary wandering sorcerer.
But the shadow beneath his feet writhed restlessly.
Jade Dog Black and Jade Dog White poked their heads out from the shadow, threatening growls rumbling from their throats. Not toward the village ahead, but toward its depths, where a disgustingly strong residual cursed energy lingered—a mixture of blood, fear, and a perverted kind of "joy."
"My lord…"
A ragged old man shuffled forward, trembling, and knelt before Genji, pressing his forehead to the ground.
"Please… help us… Those 'masters'… they're… they're 'sacrificing' again…"
The old man's voice trembled. Not from cold, but from fear.
Genji was silent. He reached out a hand to help the old man up, his movement very gentle, yet undeniable.
"Lead the way."
He said only two words.
The old man crawled and led the way. Genji followed, his steps unhurried, but with each step, the shadow beneath his feet stretched forward like living ink, quietly covering the path behind him.
The village was small, but very filthy. Not environmental filth, but the filth of "atmosphere." The air smelled of carrion, blood, and a sweet, nauseating scent—the smell of some hallucinogenic herb being burned.
In an open space at the center of the village stood over a dozen wooden crosses.
To each cross, a person was tied. There were men, women, the elderly, and children. Most were still alive, but their eyes were vacant, their bodies covered in wounds—some from whips, some from burns, some from sharp blades, cut so deep the bone was visible.
In front of the crosses, a group of people dressed in luxurious clothes, their cursed energy fluctuating, sat at a long table, drinking, chatting, and pointing at the people on the crosses as if appraising some "exhibit."
"The quality of this 'sacrifice' is good," a fat, middle-aged man took a sip of wine and smacked his lips with satisfaction. "Especially that little girl. Her vitality is very tenacious. She didn't die after seven cuts."
"After all, she's a specially selected child with cursed energy," a thin woman licked her lips, her eyes shining with a morbid light. "With such a 'sacrifice,' the cursed energy emitted from pain is purer, best for feeding a cursed spirit."
"By the way, how did the last experiment go? Has the combat effectiveness of the cursed spirit raised from human flesh and blood improved?"
"Not bad. Probably Grade 3. But stability is a bit poor. It's prone to going out of control. Needs improvement…"
They talked calmly and leisurely, as if discussing what to eat for dinner or where to go for fun tomorrow.
And those still weakly twitching on the crosses were merely "sacrifices," "materials," and "test subjects" in their mouths.
Genji stood in the shadow at the edge of the clearing, listening quietly.
His face was expressionless. No anger, no disgust, not a hint of fluctuation. Those deep indigo eyes, calm as two ancient wells, reflected the scene before him but could not stir the slightest ripple.
Only the shadow beneath his feet writhed, expanded, and boiled wildly.
"My… my lord…" The old man who had led the way collapsed to the ground, his pants wet. He had wet himself from fear.
Genji didn't look at him. He simply raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
Click.
The sound was very soft.
But in the clearing, all the crosses collapsed at the same time.
Not broken, not destroyed—they "collapsed." Like a sandcastle blown away by the wind, the wooden structures instantly disintegrated into the finest powder, falling with a soft rustle.
And the people on the crosses were gently supported by an invisible force, slowly lowered to the ground.
They were still alive, but their injuries were so severe that most were unconscious. Only the girl who had been mentioned still had her eyes open, staring blankly at the sky, as if not understanding what was happening.
"Who?!"
The people at the long table suddenly stood up. The fat man immediately activated his cursed energy for defense. The thin woman waved her hand, summoning three distorted cursed spirits—monsters raised on living human flesh and blood, their bodies stained with un-dried blood.
Genji stepped out of the shadow.
He didn't hide his cursed energy, but neither did he intentionally exert pressure. He stood there calmly, looking at the group before him as if looking at a group of ants.
"You," he said, his voice very flat, "which clan are you from?"
The fat man was stunned for a moment, then laughed—an angry, mocking laugh.
"Where did this wild dog come from, daring to meddle in our Kamo clan's affairs?" He looked Genji up and down, his eyes full of contempt. "Look at your poor, sour appearance. Which small family of wandering sorcerers are you from? If you know what's good for you, get out of here. Uncle is in a good mood today, so I'll spare you—"
His words suddenly stopped.
Because Genji raised his hand.
Not a hand seal, not a technique, just a very simple gesture—a virtual grab toward the fat man.
Pop.
A bloody hole the size of a bowl exploded in the fat man's chest. No cursed energy fluctuation, no technique trajectory. It was as if something invisible had "grown" directly inside his body and torn it apart.
The man looked down at the hole in his chest, at his still-beating heart inside, and opened his mouth as if to say something.
Then he fell. Dead.
Killed in an instant.
The crowd was dead silent.
The thin woman's face instantly turned pale. The three cursed spirits beside her seemed to sense something extremely terrifying and began to snarl desperately, trying to escape, but were pinned down by an invisible force, unable to move.
"You… who are you…" The woman's voice trembled.
Genji didn't answer. He simply took a step forward.
Just one step.
Bang—!
With him at the center, the air within a hundred-meter radius suddenly solidified.
This was not a metaphor. It was literally "solidified." The air turned into a viscous, glue-like substance, "chaining" everyone in the clearing except Genji and the villagers. They could still breathe and blink, but their bodies couldn't move even a finger.
Cursed energy, physical strength, techniques… everything within this "solidified" field lost its meaning.
"I'll ask again," Genji repeated, his voice still flat, but each word was like an ice pick piercing everyone's ears. "Which clan are you from?"
No one dared to answer.
More precisely, no one could answer. Extreme fear constricted their throats, preventing them from making a sound.
Genji nodded.
"It doesn't matter if you don't say."
He raised his right hand, spread his five fingers, and lightly clenched them in the air.
Crack, crack, crack—
The scattered trees, stones, and even the earth around the clearing seemed to be stirred by an invisible giant hand, beginning to deform, restructure, and take shape…
After more than ten seconds, over a dozen new wooden crosses stood in the clearing.
Unlike the previous ones, these crosses were cruder and more primitive, but also more "sturdy"—their surfaces were covered with a faint layer of indigo cursed energy, a residue of Genji's curse, preventing them from being easily damaged.
Then Genji pointed a finger at the sorcerers who were "nailed" in place and gently hooked it.
"Ahhh—!!"
Screams erupted.
Not from one person, but from all of them. Their bodies were dragged by an invisible force, forcibly "pressed" onto the crosses. Their hands and feet were bound tightly with rough hemp rope, their necks with wooden shackles, their entire bodies fixed to the wooden frames in the most humiliating and painful postures.
"You… you can't do this…" The thin woman finally managed to make a sound, but her voice was full of despair. "We are of the Kamo clan! The Kamo clan is one of the Three Great Families! If you kill us, the Kamo clan will not let you go—"
"The Kamo clan?" Genji interrupted, tilting his head as if remembering something. "Oh, that clan that likes to use living people for cursed spirit experiments."
He paused and added, "As it happens, the next place I plan to visit is your clan's residence."
The woman's expression froze.
Genji looked away from her. He walked to the first cross, where the fat man's body was tied—dead, but also "nailed" there.
Genji reached out, his fingertips touching the edge of the bloody hole in the corpse's chest, and lightly tapped.
A thin stream of indigo cursed energy seeped inside.
In the next second, the flesh and skin on the corpse's chest began to writhe, grow, and heal. The wound shrank at a visible speed and finally disappeared completely, leaving no scar.
Then the corpse's eyes opened.
"I… I'm not dead?" The man stared blankly at his chest, then at his surroundings, and finally at Genji. "You… you saved me? No, no, you just—"
He didn't finish his sentence.
Because Genji snapped his fingers again.
This time, the target was the man's left arm.
Pop.
The left arm was severed from the shoulder. It wasn't cut off—it "disappeared." Flesh, bone, nerves, everything was annihilated by some force in an instant, leaving no trace.
"AAAAHHHH—!!!"
A scream ten times more horrifying than before erupted. The man writhed in agony, but because he was nailed to the cross, he couldn't even struggle.
Genji watched him calmly. When the screaming subsided slightly, he reached out again, this time toward the severed shoulder.
Indigo cursed energy seeped inside.
Flesh and blood regenerated. Bones, muscles, skin—like an accelerated time-lapse of a plant growing—within seconds, a whole arm had "grown" back.
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