Heavenly Restriction User of the Gojo Clan: I Refuse to Be Cut in Half

The clash of flame and steel caused the blood blade to tremble violently. Even Choso's arm shuddered under the sheer pressure of impact.

Still, he showed no sign of retreating.

Suddenly, the blood blade in his hand emitted a sharp buzzing sound, spinning at high speed like a chainsaw.

In the next instant, the blazing fire ring shattered under the forceful strike of the spinning blood blade, flames dissipating into the surrounding air.

Jogo's expression stiffened.

The technique he had once taken pride in, undone by a small dagger. Even if that blade was formed from Cursed Energy-enhanced blood, the fact remained: he had been overpowered.

Choso was forced back a few steps, staggered by the impact, but he still held the upper hand in this exchange.

Above, from the observation tower, the black market administrators watched in stunned silence. Their hearts raced as they witnessed the clash.

He actually endured that level of attack head-on. What kind of monster is he?

They swallowed hard.

But when they turned to look at the Ghost Judge standing quietly at the railing, arms crossed and expression calm, a subtle admiration welled up in their hearts.

Perhaps it was to be expected. For someone like the Ghost Judge, handling such chaos shouldn't be too difficult.

If Jogo's fire ring had fully detonated, the entire black market would likely have been reduced to ash.

Once again, their gazes followed the Ghost Judge's line of sight, returning to the two figures locked in combat below.

"These two are on a different level…"

"Yeah. One is a Special Grade Cursed Spirit. The other, a user of the Kamo clan's Blood Manipulation Technique."

The Ghost Judge curled his lips slightly. "But neither of them has used their full strength."

...

Below.

The moment the fire ring shattered, the pressure surrounding Jogo, like the arrival of a fire god, dispersed. His aura stabilized, preparing for another surge.

He stared intently at Choso, his expression more serious than ever. The Curse User before him had broken his move effortlessly.

Choso, too, had felt the oppressive might Jogo carried. In that breath of tension, his body blurred once again.

Jogo's eyes narrowed. He moved instinctively.

Choso was charging in again.

With the boost from Wing King, his speed surged to a frightening level. The blood-red dagger in his hand flickered like a ghost, always slipping into the blind spots of Jogo's defenses with surgical precision.

Jogo dodged narrowly, again and again. He poured Cursed Energy into his arms, using them to intercept and block Choso's rapid assaults.

Although Jogo was slightly slower, his extensive battle experience under Gojo Satoshi allowed him to predict the trajectory of incoming attacks with pinpoint accuracy.

He always managed to intercept Choso right at the edge of danger.

But Choso didn't intend to engage in a drawn-out fight. As soon as his attacks were disrupted, he would retreat using Wing King's mobility, vanishing like blood-red lightning.

Both fighters now moved with such speed and ferocity that they were almost impossible to track with the naked eye.

Jogo allowed himself a brief moment of confidence.

Even if the Red Blood Manipulation Technique of the Kamo clan was formidable, it didn't compare to Satoshi's mastery over Zanpakutō.

And with Domain Expansion banned in this black market, his opponent couldn't finish him off in a short time.

As long as he could last three minutes, he'd be fine.

He was starting to feel a bit smug.

Choso exhaled slowly and then chuckled. "You're quite amusing."

There was something strange about this cursed spirit.

Despite being a spirit, Jogo was clearly well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. He could predict Choso's blade trajectory almost every time.

But Choso had mastered many sword techniques. He refused to believe the cursed spirit could block them all.

With that, he steadied his stance and launched another assault.

A new round of killing began.

Jogo didn't dare let his guard down. He raised one palm. Flames ignited around him, bursting forth in a blazing wave.

He was trying to force Choso back with raw power.

The momentum was simple: start strong, wear the opponent down, and end the match with overwhelming force.

As long as Choso's blade lost its edge, Jogo would seize victory.

But once again, they clashed.

Jogo's eyes widened slightly. He stumbled back a few steps, staring at Choso with disbelief.

He had already anticipated the direction of the next strike. By his judgment, Choso should've retreated to avoid burning his hands.

But he didn't.

The black-haired youth ignored the flames completely, charging through them without hesitation. He traded injury for position, pressing forward with another flurry of attacks.

The blood blade condensed at his fingertips pierced, swept, slashed, and stabbed in a merciless rhythm.

Finally, Jogo slipped.

A misstep.

Choso's blade tore through his chest.

His black robe split open. A long, jagged wound stretched across his torso, bleeding heavily. The dark red blood stained his robes with a gruesome splash.

Sweat poured from Jogo's forehead in thick beads. He felt a chill of fear run through him.

If he hadn't trained under Toji and Yuto daily, drastically improving his close-quarters fighting skills, he would've been decapitated just now.

He barely managed to create distance again.

Clenching his teeth, Jogo summoned flame to his fingertips, doing everything he could to prevent Choso from closing in again.

But something felt… off.

Choso's pace had slowed.

"I'm surprised you lasted this long," Choso said calmly. "But it ends here."

The blood dagger in his hand began to melt, dissolving into a puddle of crimson liquid.

Jogo frowned.

What is he doing?

Suddenly, a wave of darkness surged in his vision.

His gaze dropped to the wound across his chest. His face paled in an instant.

He stumbled back two steps, his breath labored, eyes wide in disbelief.

"That blood blade… it's poisoned!"

It hit him.

The blood manipulated through Blood Manipulation always carried toxins.

It wasn't lethal, but it heavily impaired the target's combat state.

And now, it was hitting him full force.

Jogo's limbs trembled. His body ached all over. His vision blurred. Dizziness and fatigue crashed over him.

A cold chill crept up his spine.

His arms and legs were growing stiff. His breath quickened. His face twisted in pain and nausea.

Choso slowly approached, voice emotionless. "Not bad. But still weaker than I expected. I'll send your head to Gojo Satoshi… as a warning."

Jogo clenched his jaw, rage flaring.

You used poison...

"You arrogant bastard... Even if I die... I'll peel off a layer of your flesh!"

(To be continued.)

***

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