Tengen's technique was called Immortality, and Evolution was merely one way to ensure that outcome.
What Sōjun Minamoto took was precisely the Evolution aspect—he discarded Immortality like it was worthless.
It wasn't that he was chasing the superficial while neglecting the core. Rather, the possibilities for prolonging life were endless, and Sōjun had no interest in exploring them. But when it came to growing stronger, the options were limited—especially once one reached the limits of their Cursed Energy.
Now that he'd finally glimpsed a method to break through those limits, there was no way he wouldn't try. Opportunities like this appeared for only a fleeting moment—there wasn't time for meticulous planning. He just had to reach out and seize it.
Sōjun acted decisively, successfully assimilating and merging with Tengen's physical body.
What followed was a very different kind of evolution. It could no longer be called a technique for immortality. It was more accurately a technique for gaining strength.
This marked the fundamental difference in philosophy between him and Tengen—Innate Techniques always aligned with a person's true nature.
...
Far beneath Jujutsu High, deep underground, Tengen suddenly felt something vanish from him entirely. An emptiness echoed in his chest. He paced within the temple, eventually spreading his awareness out in all directions, sensing for anything amiss—but found nothing.
He didn't think much of it. After living so long, he'd grown a bit dull. To him, time was the most worthless thing in the world—what he valued was stability.
...
Now driven by Sōjun Minamoto's will, Evolution—pushed forward by Perfect Control—had become extremely focused and pure:
It existed solely to break through limits.
At that moment, his Cursed Energy had nowhere else to go. With his reserves maxed out, all he could do was rely on temporary workarounds—like assimilating external sources of Cursed Energy—to ease the pressure.
But now, he was finally ready to actively break past those limits.
Sōjun was eager to begin.
Sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, he immersed himself in the sensation of the new technique. A quiet anticipation stirred in him. The scope of this Perfect Evolution was too vast to leave unchecked—he had to be the one in control.
As he carefully explored his Cursed Energy, the familiar, swollen feeling returned—ever since hitting his cap, that fullness never truly faded. Every time he refined Cursed Energy, it only covered what he used. It never raised the ceiling. Like pouring water into an already full bottle—overflow was inevitable.
So, what if he broke the bottle? Got rid of the concept of a "bottle" altogether?
A vague idea started to take shape.
Take it one step at a time. Rushing ahead only brought risk.
So first, he would try to expand the bottle.
...
Early the next morning,
Sōjun Minamoto arrived at the Jujutsu High Hospital. It was time to begin preparations for expanding his limits.
The medical department really was a paradise. Not only did it offer vast amounts of data and samples, but it was also a treasure trove of bizarre and fascinating curses. No need to sugarcoat it—this place was home.
Sōjun stepped into the office just as Shoko Ieiri arrived. His expression was blank. Eight in the morning was brutal for everyone.
She visibly relaxed when she saw him.
"Morning!"
Shoko had a curious smile on her lips. Her voice carried a cheerfulness that hadn't been there a second ago.
Was she really that happy?
Sōjun didn't get it.
When you're working with a colleague who's not only competent but also collaborative—with zero rivalry between you—it's natural to want more people like that around.
That was exactly how Shoko Ieiri felt.
Sōjun Minamoto's treatment methods were undeniably skilled, and visually quite elegant—but if you paid close attention during a procedure, you'd realize that in practice... his techniques were actually rather rough.
Yes, describing him as rough is spot on.
Every time he opened an injured person's abdomen, chest, or skull—almost dissecting them right on the bed—his eyes would occasionally glaze over, drifting into the void.
He was probably dissecting their soul… Rough as it was, his treatments were incredibly fast and effective. The swift, precise movements paired with the bloody scene were oddly satisfying to watch.
Most people could never do what he did: navigating through pulsing flesh to accurately locate the source of illness, eliminate it, and then piece the bloody mess back together like a jigsaw puzzle—even when a few limbs were missing.
The hard part was putting them back together.
It was a challenge of both technique and mental fortitude.
More importantly, Sōjun Minamoto seemed to understand medicine even better than she did.
Shoko Ieiri thought back to the nights she'd stayed up studying to pass the medical license exam, and how others had marveled when she easily mastered the Reverse Cursed Technique.
Then she looked at Sōjun Minamoto—and for the first time, she truly felt how unfair the world could be.
Shoko Ieiri silently lit a cigarette.
This was really... really... just great!
She could barely hold back a grin wider than a curse.
For Sōjun Minamoto, this kind of work was almost effortless. Thanks to the Reverse Cursed Technique, no matter the wound, a simple touch would mend it. And if it couldn't be healed? Off to the underground cold storage it went.
He reassembled a freshly operated body, and as a blue hue washed over it, the previously unresponsive patient's lips twitched from the stimulus. Their eyelids began to flutter, and soon they woke up.
Sōjun Minamoto patted them lightly.
"Operation successful." As the patient thanked him, he escorted them out of the operating room, then waved toward Riko Amanai.
Riko Amanai was visibly reluctant, but still walked over with a frown, wiping down the bloodstained surgical table.
"Don't make it so gory every time," she muttered.
Sōjun Minamoto didn't mind. Watching her work with such practiced ease, he smiled in satisfaction. The kid had grown up.
A chill ran down Riko Amanai's back. When she turned and saw his smile, she felt a wave of discomfort.
...
Back in his office, Sōjun Minamoto typed "individual differences" into his laptop.
He understood his own body well, but when it came to the human body on a broader scale, the variations were massive. The more people there were, the more differences emerged.
Some had flexible tongues, others could move their ears, and some could shift their eyes sideways…
The Jujutsu world had its quirks, too.
Some sorcerers' Cursed Energy sources were near the navel, while others' were closer to the heart. The former had faster Cursed Energy reflexes; the latter, more precise control. Each had their strengths. Sōjun Minamoto took note of every such discovery.
The path to evolution was hidden in these details.
After treating many sorcerers that day, he'd gathered even more data. Lately, his focus had been on tracking the location of their Cursed Energy sources. By now, new variations were appearing less and less.
That's enough for now. Any future findings could be added later—no need to waste time waiting around.
He began optimizing his own Cursed Energy source. As for where to place it—navel, heart, or brain? He smirked. It wasn't a multiple-choice question. He wanted them all.
The real challenge was separating the Cursed Energy source. Once separated, would it become several small, full vessels? Or a few large, half-filled ones? Sōjun Minamoto didn't know yet. But it was worth trying.
He started searching for a way to split them.
With Perfect Control, he could technically do it—but the balance mechanism wouldn't allow it.
Tch.
He had a gut feeling: if he tried to split them directly, the backlash would tear them apart completely.
Still, that wouldn't stop him.
He had several external Cursed Energy sources. Forcing them into his body, he trusted that evolution's adaptability would help them merge eventually. It was just a matter of time.
It was like desensitization therapy—people allergic to something might overcome it through constant exposure. Results varied, of course, and it wasn't a recommended practice.
But Sōjun Minamoto didn't care. This was exactly what the authority of evolution was made for.
No hesitation—he got to work controlling the external sources. Excluding the Fly Head and the Chōchin-obake, with the Tengen flesh already gone, only the Locust Head, Skull Head, and Paper-Sack Head remained—just enough to correspond to the navel, heart, and brain.
His original Cursed Energy source, located at the chest seam, didn't need to be moved.
As he shifted the positions, a strong foreign sensation emerged. Even though these were part of him, they weren't entirely homologous. Under perfect sensory perception, the dissonance was stark—like a bone stuck in his throat.
One by one, he aligned the sources. He had to maintain a state of refining Cursed Energy, funneling the newly produced energy into these external sources, letting them evolve and adapt until they merged completely.
From what he could sense, this process would take another seven days.
Sōjun Minamoto felt some discomfort, but it was still manageable.
It was like forming a Core—and he even had time to think about the metaphor.
Soon, when the "Core" was complete, the limits of Cursed Energy would be shattered—and he'd ascend to a new level.
Special Grade?
Hah.
Sōjun Minamoto couldn't hold back his joy.