"The editor-in-chief and editor XX mysteriously committed suicide together in their office, and most of the high-level executives mysteriously vanished without a trace."
"Why did a decade-old newspaper crumble overnight? What happened to Asahi News?"
"Alright, alright, alright."
Kenmyo smiled as he looked at the newspaper in his hand, which featured a large headline and some explanatory text on its front page.
"It is reported that the 'Asahi' newspaper, founded in XXXX, is now completely deserted, with only a pile of trash left on the entire floor."
"You like to chase trends, huh? Well, now I've put you on the trending list."
Kenmyo had disliked this newspaper for a long time, especially around the time his sister had an incident. Other newspapers handled it protectively, but this one didn't even bother to pixelate anything, which was like a second psychological trauma for the victim's family. He would remember this incident for life.
"Trending in heaven now, happy?"
"Let me see, tsk tsk tsk."
Fushiguro Toji, standing nearby, curiously poked his head over and understood at a glance.
"How tragic. They must have provoked someone they shouldn't have."
Only Jujutsu Sorcerer could make ordinary people suffer so terribly; they were almost defenseless against malicious Jujutsu Sorcerer.
It was just their bad luck.
"Who knows?"
He had his subordinates handle it; the process wasn't important, Kenmyo only cared about the result.
He folded the newspaper and turned to look at Fushiguro Toji beside him.
"And you said you'd take me somewhere thrilling and exciting, is this all it is?"
At the time, Kenmyo had advised Fushiguro Toji that he was too soft, not ruthless enough. Unexpectedly, he was instead lectured by a veteran assassin with thirty years of experience.
"Boss, don't be so bloodthirsty at such a young age."
Then Fushiguro Toji suggested that Kenmyo could follow him to a good place.
A stress-relief spot exclusive to Fushiguro Toji.
"It's thrilling and exciting, and you can even earn money."
Kenmyo figured there weren't any classes at Jujutsu High anyway, so he took a leave of absence (skipped class).
Afterward, Kenmyo followed Fushiguro Toji to this place. What appeared before him was a circular oval standard racetrack, 1600 meters long and 22 meters wide. This length and width strictly adhered to the International Federation of Horseracing Authorities' 7.27:1 regulation.
That's right, Fushiguro Toji brought Kenmyo to an international horse racing track in Tokyo.
If there's one favorite pastime for Japanese Uncles, horse betting definitely holds a significant spot.
"I fell for your trick."
Kenmyo scoffed.
"Peh, you old gambling addict."
He now used his Cursed Technique to create a false mask, wearing it on his face, making it look real. This allowed him to appear in public with the famous Heavenly Restraints Tyrant, who was practically a walking billboard.
Originally, Kenmyo didn't care if he was photographed by someone with ulterior motives; after all, he was the young master of the Kamo Family, and recruiting a strong individual was a perfectly normal thing.
However, after Kenmyo learned something, he started to care.
"You just got the money and haven't even warmed it up, and you're already here. I really don't know what you're thinking."
"You don't feel bad about wasting the Star Plasma Cult's dirty money, do you?"
Fushiguro Toji had already proactively told Kenmyo who his employer was.
So it was the Star Plasma Cult, whom Kenmyo had already severely warned once.
It seemed his warning to their branch wasn't harsh enough last time, and their headquarters dared to act so presumptuously?
These guys were indeed rich and powerful. To hire Fushiguro Toji, they paid over ten million just for the deposit, and the total amount reached nearly fifty million.
But they could never have imagined that Fushiguro Toji was actually Kenmyo's man.
Giving money to Fushiguro Toji was equivalent to giving money to Kenmyo; the Star Plasma Cult was truly a big sucker.
Actually, at first, when Fushiguro Toji learned that his mission conflicted with his Boss's mission,
Fushiguro Toji tactfully suggested, "Then I'll give up the mission. After all, I can't steal business from my Boss, right?"
"Take it, why wouldn't you take it?"
Kenmyo told Fushiguro Toji to stay calm.
Not earning money when you can is foolish.
"Handle it well for me."
So, in order for the Star Plasma Cult, this big sucker, to honestly pay Fushiguro Toji the final payment later,
It was temporarily impossible to let the outside world know about the connection between Kenmyo and Fushiguro Toji.
An assassin and a bodyguard being in cahoots, that's something.
As for whether other forces would know about Fushiguro Toji entering through the main gate as instructed before,
That was the Kamo Family's main gate! Seeing that gate didn't mean that was the extent of the Kamo Family's territory; their sphere of influence extended for dozens of kilometers around.
This time, if Kenmyo didn't fleece this fat sheep, the Star Plasma Cult, until it was bald, he wouldn't believe in himself.
It would be a disservice to them for actively coming to him.
"Don't say that."
Fushiguro Toji, sitting next to Kenmyo, was wearing black slippers, a black casual shirt, and capris. He looked like an old man, crossing his legs casually.
"I think this is a great place. You can get both mental and physical relaxation, and your senses get stimulated."
There was actually another meaning to it. Fushiguro Toji had always been a solitary and rather boring man.
His life consisted of killing and women.
Friends he could talk to?
He didn't have any of those.
The only person he could somewhat talk to was merely a work acquaintance, and usually, he couldn't even reach them.
That person's words could be quite hurtful, saying they didn't want any contact with him outside of work.
So this rare occasion of coaxing his Boss out gave Fushiguro Toji a rare feeling of hanging out with a friend, and he had to treat him well.
Of course, the most important thing was having money in his pocket. Fushiguro Toji felt confident and spoke eloquently.
"Horse betting isn't some improper activity."
"I am making money from money."
"You old gambling addict."
Kenmyo rolled his eyes at him.
"Let me ask you one thing, how much money have you won here?"
"Ah."
This question silenced Fushiguro Toji. His previous nonchalance and swagger completely vanished.
Fushiguro Toji immediately sat up straight, as if he had suffered a great insult.
"Boss, I don't lack a few bucks from here."
"I enjoy the fun of it."
But in fact, this was just Fushiguro Toji making a flimsy excuse to save face in front of his Boss.
What no one knew was that the renowned Heavenly Restraints Tyrant of the Jujutsu World was a complete jinx.
This man's luck was almost at rock bottom, just like his difficult fate.
The perpetually unlucky Fushiguro Toji had never honestly made money here; instead, he had poured a lot of his earnings into it over the years.
It truly reflected the saying, 'the worse you are, the more you want to play.' The more Fushiguro Toji lost, the more he wanted to earn money here.
That's how a gambler's psychology works.
Stubborn as a mule, he would always tell himself, 'I'll definitely win next time,' but unfortunately, every time he lost everything.
Fushiguro Toji said with a slightly agitated tone,
"Of course, there are wins because there are losses."
When Kenmyo heard this guy start talking vaguely and evasively,
"I make money by luck. When my luck is bad, there's nothing I can do."
Kenmyo felt that Fushiguro Toji was a bit incoherent. He already had a rough idea of how much money this guy could earn here.
"Heh heh, you're quite optimistic."
Kenmyo could only say that. Was he supposed to praise him for being ambitious?
"What are you doing?"
Kenmyo saw Fushiguro Toji suddenly stand up, thinking he was getting upset.
"It's just that the betting station is about to open."
Fushiguro Toji clutched the banknotes in his hand and said fiercely,
"Boss, I have a premonition that I will definitely win today."
"I'm confident."
"Oh, God of Gamblers, which number do you want to bet on today?"
"Number nine. I feel like today's lucky number is nine."
Horse betting involves placing wagers on favored horses and riders in a horse race. You can bet on first, second, or third place, and if you guess correctly, there are multipliers.
For a racetrack like the one Fushiguro Toji and Kenmyo were in, the annual turnover is between 20 to 40 billion USD.
Gamblers and horse racing enthusiasts from all over the world gather here.
Horse racing, no matter how you compare it, has a higher chance of winning than a lottery with 49 numbers, but Fushiguro Toji never winning anything is truly remarkable.
This means that if you bet the opposite of Fushiguro Toji, the probability of getting a villa by the sea will greatly increase in the future.
The stronger Fushiguro Toji's premonition, the less relevant the final outcome would be to him.
He had almost lost enough to become a gold VIP, but unfortunately, Fushiguro Toji had not developed a reasonable self-awareness about this.
Otherwise, Fushiguro Toji wouldn't have confidently said these words in front of Kenmyo, having a strong premonition that this number was bound to win today.
"Hahahahaha."
But before Kenmyo could speak, laughter came from not far away. The laughter was extremely brazen, sounding as if it were openly mocking Fushiguro Toji.
"You're actually betting on Number Nine? That's hilarious."
"Seriously, a fool and his money are soon parted."
Hearing this mocking voice, the expression of certain victory on Fushiguro Toji's face immediately turned as awful as if he had eaten "shit."
"Are you looking to die?"
Having been humiliated like this, Fushiguro Toji's face was as black as coal, showing just how terrible his mood was.
He had sworn confidently in front of the Boss that Number Nine would definitely win, only to be ridiculed. How could he possibly tolerate this?
Did they really think the Heavenly Restraints Tyrant, who had caused such a storm in the Jujutsu World, was someone easy to deal with? If he truly got angry, killing someone in a sudden outburst was an effortless task.
But when both Kenmyo and Fushiguro Toji turned their gazes toward the speaker, their expressions simultaneously became extremely strange upon seeing the person clearly.
Fushiguro Toji, especially, who had just been radiating killing intent, suddenly felt incredibly foolish for making such a big deal out of arguing with this kind of brat.
Because the person who made the noise was, surprisingly, a kid who didn't look very old but seemed exceptionally mature for his age.
He was wearing a hoodie, but his hairstyle was certainly distinctive.
Kenmyo thought the thing resembled the vegetable he disliked the most: broccoli.
The hairstyle genuinely looked like half a head of broccoli inverted on his skull. Paired with his prematurely mature face, it looked quite sleazy.
And were those eyelashes glued on? Why did they look so comical?
As for his height, he must have been a standout among his peers, probably around 170-something centimeters.
Kenmyo also noticed that the black-haired kid was holding something resembling a lottery ticket in one hand and a pencil in the other, looking like he was filling out a lottery form.
"Isn't this just a kid?"
Fushiguro Toji immediately lost interest and dismissively waved his hand, telling him to scram.
"Adults these days, honestly..."
"Just leaving a child here like this. What if they get lost?"
Fushiguro Toji spread his hands, adopting a deeply reflective demeanor.
"Truly born with parents, but raised by no one."
Kenmyo's mouth twitched slightly upon hearing this. He felt that Fushiguro Toji was the least persuasive person to say such a thing.
You have both a son and a daughter, but have you ever even looked at them?
Is this not the definition of irony?
"And that form in your hand, kid, can you even fill it out? Go get your parents."
Fushiguro Toji sneered.
"That lottery ticket is worth about 200 dollars. If you scribble all over it, watch out, your parents might spank you."
Based on the pattern on the ticket, Fushiguro Toji recognized it as a Scratch-off Lottery Ticket, with a maximum prize of ten million dollars.
Due to its steep price, it was usually ignored on weekdays, as the cost was 200 US dollars per ticket—simply too expensive.
Yet this kid was holding one, dirtying and scratching it. He'd better watch out or his parents might spank him later.
"What nonsense are you spouting, Droopy-Eyed Ojisan?"
The Broccoli Kid was also quite displeased after being mocked by Fushiguro Toji, and his face likewise turned black with anger.
"I'm not some little brat."
"Hm?"
Being disrespected by this kid, Fushiguro Toji's suppressed anger vaguely threatened to resurface. He looked ready to roll up his sleeves, walk over, and teach him a good lesson.
Fushiguro Toji did look quite fierce, especially when he wore a brutal expression, making the Broccoli Kid feel a bit stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Forget it. Since you, Uncle, chose Number Nine, it just proves your judgment is poor."
"Being near a loss-maker like you will only ruin my luck."
After saying that, the Broccoli Kid tried to leave.
"What did you say, you wretched brat?"
Fushiguro Toji was considerably angered by the repeated provocations.
"Toji."
Kenmyo suddenly felt a flicker of interest in the kid and stopped Fushiguro Toji's movement.
"Why bother arguing with a brat?"
He opened his hand, and the kid was pulled back, flying toward Kenmyo's position like metal attracted to a magnet.
Kenmyo stopped him about a meter away. However, the Psychokinesis-type Spiritual Energy did not release the restraint on the kid; instead, it held him firmly captive.
This abnormal sight instantly made the kid's face turn ghostly white.
He cursed inwardly, *This is bad.*
*I hit a steel plate today.*
Watching him struggle futilely against the restraint, the smile on Kenmyo's face widened.
"As expected, you aren't surprised at all."
Fushiguro Toji was blind (to Cursed Energy), so he didn't know, but Kenmyo saw clearly that the Cursed Energy on this kid was excessive for someone his age.
"You're a Jujutsu Sorcerer too, aren't you?"
However, it was debatable whether his meager skill level even matched that of a Trainee Jujutsu Sorcerer.
"Hmph, I won't talk to an adult like you, who would use Cursed Techniques against a defenseless child like me."
The kid was still trying to sound tough, but the tremor in his voice showed that he was scared.
"Kid, you keep talking about your luck, luck, always mentioning luck."
Kenmyo's face was also quite fierce; the corners of his mouth curved up slightly.
That smile was so chilling it was indistinguishable from a murderer's.
"But do you know that, actually, your luck today is terrible?"
Thus, under Kenmyo's "friendly" interaction, this stubborn brat finally tasted bitterness, and tears streamed continuously from his eyes like broken strings of pearls.
"I'm sorry, I know I was wrong. I won't dare to do it again."
"My name is Hakari Kinji, a first-year student at the nearby Kibou Kanzou Elementary School."
The Broccoli Kid looked utterly miserable, speaking with a choked voice.
"I was rude today. I shouldn't have provoked you two. I truly made a mistake."
"The reason I advised that Uncle not to bet on Number Nine is because that racehorse broke its leg last year during the British Equestrian Competition held before the New Year, and only started rehabilitation last month."
"How can it compete with other racehorses after only one month of training?"
Fushiguro Toji didn't know what to say upon seeing this scene.
Earlier, the Boss had clearly told him not to stoop to a brat's level.
Yet, in Fushiguro Toji's eyes, the Boss's actions were the epitome of stooping to the kid's level and making a huge fuss.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have managed to tame such an arrogant kid into being so obedient. Clearly, the kid was about to wet himself, feeling his life was genuinely threatened, which is why he spilled everything.
Fushiguro Toji finally understood one thing at this moment: "Never provoke the Boss."
"Good boy."
The smiling Kenmyo patted Hakari Kinji's head, flattening a few strands of broccoli hair with the force of his hand.
"If you hadn't run your mouth, none of this would be happening."
When the Broccoli Kid felt the restraints on him completely vanish, he slumped helplessly onto the ground as if he had lost all his bones, soaked in cold sweat.
While the panting Hakari Kinji was celebrating his escape, the devil's voice sounded in his ear once more.
"By the way, kid, do you want to make a bet with me?"
[I love enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is gambling. Gambling is life. And love is dominance.]
Although he had decided to make gambling his life's goal, Hakari Kinji was now facing unprecedented hesitation, trembling uncontrollably.
"Let the outcome of this equestrian race be the boundary."
"You can choose any of the other racers you like, while I will only choose Number Nine."
"How about that? It's fair, isn't it? You said Number Nine is an injured horse."
Kenmyo rubbed his chin, speaking in a tone that implied the kid was making a huge profit.
"No matter who you choose, the odds are better than Number Nine's, right?"
"The stakes, let me think..."
Kenmyo pondered for a moment, speaking in a tone as casual as deciding what to have for dinner.
"Let's bet your future."
The pupils in Hakari Kinji's eyes trembled. For the first time, he felt that gambling was a terrifying thing, but it seemed too late.
"No, I don't want to bet."
"I want to go home."