The morning sun cast long shadows across the secluded grove where Gojo Satoru stood, his piercing azure eyes fixed upon the patch of blue silver grass that swayed gently in the breeze. The plant's ethereal beauty seemed diminished somehow, its lustrous leaves appearing dull and lifeless—a stark reflection of the heavy truths that weighed upon the air between them.
"You don't have to believe what I said," Gojo said with characteristic nonchalance, his shoulders rising in an elegant shrug that spoke of both indifference and deep-seated confidence. His white hair caught the sunlight, creating an almost otherworldly halo around his lean frame. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice, the kind that suggested he spoke not from malice, but from an uncomfortable certainty.
The blue silver grass remained motionless, save for the natural sway of the wind. To any observer, it would appear that Gojo was speaking to nothing more than vegetation. But he knew better. He could sense the consciousness within, the maternal spirit that had sacrificed everything for love—or so the story went.
"Anyway," he continued, his tone taking on a more contemplative quality as he crouched down to examine the grass more closely, "I have one more bitter truth. Do you even want to hear it?"
His fingers hovered just above the delicate leaves, not quite touching but close enough that he could feel the faint spiritual energy emanating from the plant. The blue silver grass seemed to shiver slightly, though whether from the breeze or something deeper, only Gojo could say.
"This is just a guess," he began, his voice dropping to a more serious register, "but I think you were nothing more than a pawn in Tang Hao's grand design. I don't know the specifics of what transpired between you two, but doesn't something feel... off about the whole situation?"
Gojo stood, beginning to pace around the grass in a slow, deliberate circle. His movements were fluid, predatory even, like a hunter circling wounded prey. But his expression held no cruelty—only the cold logic of someone piecing together an uncomfortable puzzle.
"Think about it, Ah Yin," he said, using her name with a familiarity that seemed to make the very air tremble. "How could a top genius of the Haotian Sect—someone with Tang Hao's reputation and abilities—fail to protect his own wife? The man who would later become known as one of the most powerful soul masters of his generation, reduced to a helpless observer as the woman he claimed to love was hunted down?"
The grass rustled more violently now, and Gojo paused in his pacing, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He was getting through to her, breaking past whatever mental barriers she had constructed around these painful memories.
"And isn't it quite the coincidence," he continued, his voice taking on a mocking tone, "that when both Tang Hao and you were expecting children, the mighty Haotian Sect suddenly forgot how to provide protection for their own? Even Tang Hao's father—the sect leader—would have moved heaven and earth to protect his son's family. Tang Hao had the best talent the sect had seen in generations. They would have treasured you as much as they treasured him."
Gojo's eyes narrowed as he pressed on, each word calculated to cut deeper than the last. "But here's where it gets really interesting. Somehow, just as you were about to give birth, the Spirit Hall mysteriously learned of your existence and location. What are the odds of that kind of timing? Almost as if someone... fed them information."
The temperature around the grove seemed to drop several degrees, and the blue silver grass began to emit a faint, pulsing light—a sign of extreme emotional distress from the consciousness within.
"And let's talk about Tang Hao's convenient absence from the hunt for his ninth spirit ring," Gojo continued relentlessly. "Here's a man stuck at level 90 soul power, desperately needing that final ring to break through to Title Douluo status. But instead of pursuing that power—power that could have protected his family—he chooses to wait around. Almost as if he knew something was coming. Almost as if he needed to be present for... something."
Gojo crouched down again, his face now level with the grass. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of absolute certainty.
"And Tang Xiao—Tang Hao's own brother—just happened to leave you both alone during this critical time. The man who had always been by Tang Hao's side, who shared his responsibilities and burdens, suddenly found somewhere else to be. Even if he trusted his brother's abilities, wouldn't basic family loyalty dictate that he remain to help protect his future sister-in-law?"
The blue silver grass was glowing brighter now, its leaves trembling with what could only be described as anguish. But Gojo wasn't finished.
"Finally," he said, rising to his full height and looking down at the grass with something that might have been pity, "if Tang Hao truly loved you as much as he claimed, why did he abandon his son—your son—to a life of neglect and hardship? Why did he choose to drown his sorrows in alcohol rather than honor your memory by caring for the child you died to protect?"
Gojo's expression hardened, his casual demeanor giving way to something colder, more calculating. "The truth is, Tang Hao's grief wasn't for losing you, Ah Yin. It was for the consequences of his actions—being expelled from the Haotian Sect after 'accidentally' killing Qian Xunji. You were never his beloved wife. You were his ticket to power, his pathway to obtaining a spirit ring that would make him legendary."
The grove fell silent except for the sound of wind through leaves. Gojo stood motionless, watching the blue silver grass for any sign of reaction. Internally, he acknowledged a grudging respect for Tang Hao's cunning, even as he despised the man's methods.
Even if Ah Yin started as part of his plan, Gojo mused silently, he did seem to develop genuine feelings for her eventually. But by then, it was too late. The wheels were already in motion, and she paid the price for his ambition.
He shook his head, dismissing these philosophical musings. There was no point in speaking further to what was essentially a traumatized consciousness hiding in plant form. Ah Yin was no longer a significant player in the grand scheme of things. But that didn't mean she was entirely useless.
Still, he thought with characteristic pragmatism, who wouldn't want a free ally? Even if the idea of gaining a wife through these circumstances seems like something out of a ridiculous fan fiction, having her on my side against Tang San could prove invaluable.
The strategic possibilities were intriguing. If Ah Yin could be properly revived and turned to his cause, it would not only deny Tang San a potential power source but could actively work against the protagonist. After all, there were rumors of a dark variant of blue silver grass—power that could be turned to destructive purposes if properly cultivated.
But such plans would have to wait. For now, Gojo had more immediate concerns. His primary objective remained unchanged: gaining access to the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well. The mystical spring held treasures that could accelerate his development far beyond what conventional training could achieve.
He had two potential paths to that goal. The first involved finding Dugu Yan and somehow winning her favor—a prospect that seemed both tedious and uncertain. The second required approaching Dugu Bo directly and demonstrating his knowledge of the well's secrets. This approach was more direct but carried significant risks. The old poison master was notoriously paranoid and quick to violence when threatened.
The biggest problem, Gojo admitted to himself, is that I can barely identify three of the immortal herbs that grow around that spring. My knowledge is limited, and making a mistake could be fatal.
With a final glance at the blue silver grass, which had gradually stopped glowing and returned to its mundane appearance, Gojo turned away from the grove. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
The past three months of intensive training had yielded impressive results. Through his modified version of the Mysterious Heaven Technique, combined with the absorption of his first spirit ring and spirit bone, he had achieved a remarkable breakthrough—jumping directly to level 20 soul power. The rapid advancement was both thrilling and concerning. Such rapid growth often came with hidden costs, but for now, he would accept the benefits and worry about consequences later.
The dawn of the following day found Gojo preparing for his next major challenge: hunting his second spirit ring independently. Unlike his first ring, which had been obtained under more controlled circumstances, this hunt would test his abilities in true combat conditions.
He packed methodically, filling his travel bag with essential supplies: preserved foods that would last several days, changes of clothing suitable for wilderness survival, and an array of hunting tools including a sharp knife, a balanced spear, a woodsman's axe, and coils of strong rope. Each item was chosen with care, as a single oversight could mean the difference between success and disaster in the unforgiving wilderness.
The journey to the Sunset Forest took four arduous hours of travel, his feet carrying him across varied terrain as the landscape gradually shifted from civilized farmland to untamed wilderness. The forest was known to harbor spirit beasts suitable for lower-level soul masters, making it an ideal hunting ground for someone of his current abilities.
However, there was one significant complication: the entire forest fell under the strict jurisdiction of the Spirit Hall. Unauthorized entry was forbidden, with severe penalties for those caught violating the restriction. This added an element of danger that went beyond simply facing wild spirit beasts.
Fortunately, Gojo had anticipated this obstacle. Through careful observation and strategic timing, he had identified a group of experienced soul masters who regularly entered the forest through unofficial channels. A combination of diplomatic negotiation and carefully placed gold coins—acquired through creative applications of his blood manipulation abilities—secured him passage with their group.
The irony, he reflected as he followed the smugglers along hidden forest paths, is that I used my own blood to steal the gold needed to pay for this passage. There's a certain poetic justice in using the Spirit Hall's own currency against their restrictions.
Once inside the forest proper, Gojo began his systematic search for suitable prey. Unlike many soul masters who sought specific types of rings to complement predetermined battle strategies, he had a different approach in mind. His instincts, told that he have to hunt a specific type of soul beast resembling to cursed technique of JJK verse.
My guess, is that the rarity and power of any technique I might develop depends heavily on both the type and age of the spirit beast I choose. Or in simple Razor language, If I want something comparable to Jogo's Disaster Flames, I'll need a fire-type soul beast with high soul ring age corresponding to rarity of Disaster Flames.