Genji stood before the cultivation tanks where strange life forms floated silently. The cold underground air seemed to freeze, only the faint hum of instruments and the whisper of circulating liquid breaking the deathly silence of the place.
His deep indigo eyes swept over the condensation on the tank walls, the pipes connecting to the "half-cursed spirits" bodies and flickering with unclear data, and finally settled again on the pain and confusion frozen on those distorted faces.
If the Naraku Sect had indeed mastered a relatively stable technique for transforming humans into "half-cursed spirits," even if it was only preliminary, with a low success rate and unknown side effects...
Then, on this planet, among the seemingly glamorous high-ranking officials of various countries possessing immense power and resources, among the aging leaders, tycoons, and members of secret organizations who instinctively fear death... how many people are there, or are trying to become, "believers" of the Naraku Sect, or at least "accomplices" and "clients"?
Immortality.
These two words are the ultimate narcotic, tempting more than any wealth, beauty, or even power itself. Those who can soberly refuse this temptation are always very few.
Especially in an era where jujutsu and science intertwine, making many impossible things possible, a mystical sect claiming to offer "immortality" is deadly to those who stand at the pinnacle of the world but cannot touch the laws of time.
The assassins and bombs on the plane, perfectly disguised and able to pass strict security checks, required not only jujutsu-level concealment but also the cover and coordination of extremely high-level secular authority. Altering passenger manifests, disguising identities, allowing certain items (like C4 and cursed tools) to bypass all checks... this is practically impossible without the consent, assistance, and even direct work of high-ranking personnel in one or more countries.
If the Naraku Sect indeed had connections with the top leadership of certain countries, even including those well-known names on the client list for its "immortality gift," then it was entirely logical to use some national resources to arrange an aerial assassination of the "unstable factor," Zen'in Genji.
The awakening of a thousand-year-old god of curses was equivalent to a terrifying natural disaster. It could expose and destroy everything for those "immortals" who relied on the Naraku Sect's "gift" to maintain their power and life. Eliminating him before he touched the core secret was the most "reasonable" choice.
But...
Genji frowned deeply, a sharp contradiction suddenly piercing the seemingly logical chain he had just constructed.
This doesn't make sense.
This conclusion was coldly issued. If the enemy—whether the Naraku Sect or the high-ranking officials colluding with it—truly knew of the existence of "Zen'in Genji," even if only from partial records or legends about his abilities, they shouldn't have thought that just a few Grade 2 curse users and a physical bomb on a civilian airliner could truly threaten him, let alone ensure his death.
That plane crash would be death for ordinary people and even for most sorcerers. But for him, it was just a nuisance, an "accident" requiring distraction and rescue, not a fatal "attack."
Would an enemy that planned such a complex attack make such a low-level error, underestimating the target? Unless... they didn't need the attack to succeed at all.
A stranger and bolder hypothesis emerged in Genji's mind, like another eye quietly opening in the darkness.
Unless these assassins and the bomb were not, or not only, arranged by the Naraku Sect.
Unless the goal of the attack was never "to kill Zen'in Genji," but "to guide Zen'in Genji."
To use a seemingly deadly "assassination" that he could actually resolve to create an atmosphere of tension and crisis. To use the tragic plane crash to "force" him to land on this pre-selected island in the South China Sea, where the half-cursed spirit experimental base was hidden. To use the survival of unconscious people scattered on the ground as a "drag," making him have to land and explore the island. To ultimately have him "coincidentally" discover the underground base where forbidden experiments were conducted.
Someone, or some third-party force, wanted him to "see" this half-cursed spirit laboratory, and wanted him to direct the beginning of his suspicions towards the Naraku Sect that preached "immortality"!
This thought sent a chill down Genji's back. If this were true, then the chess player behind the scenes, with their deep thinking, calculation, and understanding of both him and the Naraku Sect, had reached a rather terrifying level.
"Does the Naraku Sect... have something to do with this half-cursed spirit experiment?" Genji slowly shook his head, temporarily suppressing this tempting but dangerous speculation. Too few clues, too many contradictions. The experimental base was here, and the Naraku Sect's area of activity was also in this sea region. The possibility of a connection between them existed, and was even very high.
But there was another possibility: the Naraku Sect was the Naraku Sect, and the laboratory was the laboratory. A third party had deliberately "placed" them together to create the illusion of an association.
"Everything needs further investigation," he whispered to himself, regaining his absolute composure.
It would be taboo for a detective to jump to conclusions, especially when the opponent might be a thousand-year-old fox skilled at scheming.
He needed more direct evidence—find the laboratory's researchers or guards, obtain experimental records, determine the source of materials and energy, and trace the origin of these "test subjects" (whether human or cursed spirit)... Only then could he truly determine who the owner of this place was.
And as he thought of a "thousand-year-old fox," another name came to mind, one that made it impossible for him to relax, his vigilance naturally surfacing.
Kenjaku.
A curse user who had lived in human bodies for an unknown length of time, holding countless forbidden pieces of knowledge and insane plans in his head. Genji wouldn't be surprised if that guy had done something.
"That old bastard..." Genji's eyes were slightly cold. "You'd better not let me find out you're involved in this."
---
Almost at the same moment, hundreds of nautical miles away, at a humble pier on another island in the South China Sea, Kenjaku, disguised as a folklorist and talking to local fishermen, sneezed without warning.
"Achoo!"
Genji looked away into the void and no longer dwelled on unsubstantiated speculation. He ordered the shadow ninjas to speed up their search and began to carefully examine the bases of the incubators, the pipe models, and the fine markings on the instruments with a professional, cold gaze. He also crouched down, wiping inconspicuous dust with his fingers and sniffing his fingertip, trying to catch any clues that might have been missed.
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