Sōjun Minamoto had started studying Barrier Techniques from an early age.
Though he couldn't compare to Tengen, who had accumulated knowledge over a thousand years, his own skills weren't lacking.
He had long since carved his own path.
While others were still chanting spells and forming hand signs to cast barriers, he could already manipulate the environment freely, incorporating terrain and external elements to construct barriers at will.
The dossier Tengen provided wasn't thick. The paper was crisp and clearly a freshly copied excerpt. It listed mainly protective barrier structures—Tengen's specialty.
It also briefly outlined the changing nature of Barrier Techniques, principles of linkage and embedding, how to combine them for stronger effects, and some methods for setting up sealing barriers.
Additionally, the dossier casually mentioned Japan's ten major barriers. It didn't list all of them, but highlighted Tokyo's First Barrier, Tokyo's Second Barrier, and the Sendai Barrier in Miyagi Prefecture.
Sōjun Minamoto shook his head. With a map of Japan and some key markers, it wasn't hard to deduce their full distribution:
From north to south: Aomori, Iwate, Miyagi, Tokyo's First Barrier, Tokyo's Second Barrier, Aichi, Kyoto's First Barrier, Kyoto's Second Barrier, Hiroshima, and Kagoshima.
Then there was the Hokkaido Barrier, north of Aomori, home to the Ainu Jujutsu Sect—an organization on par with the jujutsu higher-ups.
This essentially completed the jujutsu world map.
The guess might not be entirely accurate, but it was close enough. Japan wasn't that big. He could just go check it out himself.
Sōjun had long recognized the potential in Barrier Techniques, but he'd been studying in isolation, lacking any real point of comparison.
Now, with a living example like Tengen right in front of him, his curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Thanks to his mastery of Barrier Techniques, Tengen had essentially become godlike across much of Japan.
[Omniscience]
In the jujutsu world, he was widely known as the Omniscient Sorcerer.
But when it came to the current state of Barrier Techniques, the most notable feature was the [Curtain]—a type of barrier invisible to non-sorcerers, used to isolate curses.
Curtains often came with extra effects too, like blocking cell signals or letting sorcerers detect when they were damaged.
Modern sorcerers could, at best, tack on a few additional conditions for bonus effects.
That was it.
It all felt so limited. Compared to Tengen's use of barriers, they were worlds apart—one was divine, the other mundane.
The reason was simple.
Barrier Techniques were hard to learn.
And the advanced knowledge needed to wield high-level techniques was hoarded by a handful of elites. If they couldn't learn it, no one else was allowed to learn.
What the jujutsu world showed to the average sorcerer was always just the tip of the iceberg. Sōjun himself only gained access to Barrier Techniques thanks to Masamichi Yaga.
He couldn't understand this self-imposed stagnation. Gathering the wisdom of the talented to push the jujutsu world forward, continuously innovating cursed techniques—there was nothing but benefit in that.
But some people were too afraid of losing their positions to compete. So they clung to power, draining the well dry.
Just like that, things rot over time. The Star Religious Group, Tengen, the higher-ups—they were no exception.
...
Sōjun skimmed through the dossier quickly. The content was light and easy to digest.
Honestly, he found it underwhelming.
The techniques were just the same old ideas in a shiny new package. Petty, really.
He'd rather forge his own path.
He tossed the dossier aside and picked up a book on formations—something he'd deliberately acquired a long time ago.
To ordinary people, barriers were seen as relying on special powers. Without those powers, they were written off as fantasy.
Formations, on the other hand, had been developed through military strategy—battle arrays designed to maximize a force's combat power and secure victory.
Proper deployment made them true formations.
Technological matrices, strange natural structures... echoes of formations could be found everywhere, demonstrating incredible power. After generations of refinement, they were now highly advanced.
The term "formation" varied depending on how it was interpreted.
Its scope could stretch from the cosmic movements of stars to the sun and moon's effect on Earth's geology and energy fields, to the influence of birth dates on personality and emotions—
Wasn't all of that deeply connected to curses?
Sōjun chuckled. He liked starting from tangible, grounded points and slowly carving a road to the top.
While other sorcerers walked the traditional path to power step by step, some outdated customs and locked-up knowledge needed to be shattered—broken into dust, so that a new foundation could be built.
"From the One Origin, Two Forces, and Three Powers... to the Nine Palaces, Ten Directions, Twelve Earthly Branches, and the Twenty-Four Mountain Methods—"
Wouldn't it be more interesting to build a curse-based "formation" system?
Inspired, Sōjun removed his shirt and began reconfiguring his Sigils Barrier.
The mirror made from fly heads still protected his heart. Using it as the center, the black lines formed from the locust heads, skulls, and paper bag heads twisted into motion, aligning with the Eight Palace directions. Then, overlaying each 15° segment with the Twenty-Four Mountains, a compass-like structure emerged.
Sōjun moved with intent. He stood and casually fired off a Black Flash. The air warped, and a black vortex the size of a human head burst open. He reached into it—his arm emerging from a point just ahead.
This time, he hadn't used the locust head's spatial technique.
It was purely the spatial distortion caused by the Black Flash, enhanced by the formation's spatial sensitivity. Together, they mimicked a proper spatial technique.
His mind drifted back.
He had first learned Black Flash through spatial techniques. Now, he was using Black Flash to replicate spatial techniques.
He felt satisfied.
Abilities he developed himself always felt more natural than techniques he had assimilated. They matched his rhythm.
With continued refinement and mastery, he was confident he could one day replace—maybe even surpass—conventional spatial techniques.
Returning his focus, he wondered if he could further optimize his eye structure—use it to construct a formation and recreate the legendary Celestial Star Array?
Or arrange his entire body into the Chengdu Divine General Formation?
Sōjun shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts... Had spending time with Riko Amanai made him a bit chuunibyou?
This was all Riko Amanai's fault.
Maybe he really should start studying astronomy—delving into celestial mechanics and the structure of the universe.
It wouldn't hurt to research legends of gods and Buddhas either—many of his best ideas came from such myths.
Anatomy, astronomy, geography, theology...
The path of evolution lay within them.
Sōjun clapped his hands and grinned.
As for Tengen?
He doesn't understand a thing about evolution.