Curse Return: Demon Void Girl Doesn't Want to Be a Weakling

In the corridor in front of the high-level conference room, Gojo Satoru walked ahead.

Today he took off his blindfold and put on sunglasses, only covering his eyes.

With his coat draped over his shoulders, hands in his pockets, he walked at a leisurely pace, a nonchalant smile on his lips.

Mashiro followed quietly behind him, her red eyes, hidden by her wings, observing the scene.

The higher-ups don't have high-level sorcerers, but their security is still adequate.

Two level-one sorcerers were guarding the entrance, and a barrier would be set up after entering the conference room.

But what if it can't defend against internal attacks, just like how a high-level building can't resist internal corruption?

"Ahem." Gojo Satoru coughed twice deliberately.

But Mashiro was deep in thought and ignored him.

"Hey, feed me?"

The repeated calls brought Mashiro back to her senses. "I don't call for feeding."

"You're the one ignoring me, aren't you?" Gojo Satoru said helplessly. "Everyone in the upper management is here today, not a single one is missing."

"That's perfect, we can take them all in one go."

"Mashiro-chan, tone down your killing intent." Gojo Satoru waved his finger. "Those rotten oranges may be useless, but they're quite sensitive to this kind of thing."

Mashiro nodded, concealing the murderous aura he had inadvertently released. "Understood. A true master must conceal their killing intent and kill without leaving a trace."

"...Where did you learn that?" Gojo Satoru looked at her with a subtle expression. "From movies or novels?"

Mashiro glanced at him. "Both are possible. That's the answer."

"Wow." Gojo Satoru pondered for a moment after hearing this, then nodded. "What a brilliant answer. It will definitely be useful next time."

"You have to pay copyright fees for plagiarism."

Gojo Satoru smiled slightly, said nothing more, and continued walking forward.

"Mr. Gojo." The two sorcerers at the door bowed slightly to him, then looked at Mashiro.

"Who is this?"

Gojo Satoru glanced at her and smiled.

Mashiro had a bad feeling; there was a clear malice in those eyes!

Sure enough, the next second Gojo Satoru gently patted Mashiro's shoulder, "Her? She's my little apprentice, the one who runs errands."

"What did you say?" Mashiro exclaimed angrily.

Her blood pressure spiked, but she forced it down.

Let him go for now, we'll settle things later.

"Alright, please come in." The two sect leaders nodded and pushed the door open.

The sound that had just been blocked by the barrier immediately came through.

Mashiro followed Gojo Satoru into the council chamber.

The long table was filled with people, and the overhead lights made it difficult to see each person's face clearly.

The person sitting in the middle is flipping through reports, the person by the window is holding a teacup, and the person by the door is writing something with their head down.

As soon as the door opened, everyone looked over at the same time, their gazes first falling on Gojo Satoru, and then shifting to Mashiro behind him.

"You're not on today's agenda, Gojo Satoru," said an old man sitting in the middle of the long table, putting down his report and tapping his fingers lightly.

"I know." Gojo Satoru pulled out two empty chairs from the end of the long table, sat down in one, and gestured with his chin toward the other chair for Mashiro to sit down.

"I'm just sitting in on the class today. This is the special advisor for the high school, Kujo Mashiro. You don't need to worry about her."

Mashiro sat down next to him; the chair was too high for her, and her feet couldn't touch the ground.

Although it was a little embarrassing, she got used to it.

After a moment of silence, the old man sitting in the middle picked up the report again: "Continue. We were just talking about the monitoring station in Fukuoka."

The meeting continued, with topics such as budget allocation, task scheduling, and personnel allocation being pushed forward one after another.

Mashiro placed her hands on her knees, remained silent, and slowly moved her gaze from the face of the person at the table.

Half of the conclusions drawn from these seemingly normal meetings among high-level officials are rather inhuman.

Rotten oranges are rotten oranges. One orange leads to another, so it's best to kill them all.

Gojo Satoru leaned back in his chair, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, making it impossible to tell what he was looking at.

Perhaps they were just listening, or more likely they weren't even listening.

Soon, the sixth topic came to a close.

The person in charge of taking notes turned to the next page of the minutes and glanced around.

"Next, the task areas for the third quarter will be redefined."

Gojo Satoru couldn't sit still any longer. He leaned forward and raised his right hand.

"Wait a moment."

The discussion stopped, and everyone turned to look at him, wondering what this "strongest" person was up to.

"I have a question that I hope you can answer."

Gojo Satoru lowered his hand, then stood up and looked at the people in front of him.

"Which of you are colluding with the cursed spirits?"

He was clearly smiling, but what he said sent a chill down the spines of everyone present.

There was no sound in the council chamber, but Gojo Satoru didn't care.

He took off his sunglasses, revealing his deep blue eyes, scanned the room, and gave a cruel smile.

"We've found you."

The person near the door, upon hearing his words, immediately stood up, opened his mouth, and said, "I didn't..."

Unfortunately, his body had already begun to contort.

"Bang."

It exploded into a cloud of blood mist, splattering blood on the table, the floor, and the faces of the people nearby.

Meanwhile, several other people at the table were also contorting themselves.

Their bodies were bent into shapes that were not human by forces in the same direction.

Some people tried to stand up, but their knees were broken; others tried to grab the table, but their fingers were no longer in place.

Two or three seconds after several plumes of blood mist dispersed under the light, the first scream rang out.

It wasn't the person who was twisted, but the person next to them who was splattered with blood.

"Gojo Satoru!"

A loud shout came from the other end of the table, and an old man sprang up from his chair, which then overturned behind him.

His collar and face were splattered with blood, and drops of blood were slowly trickling down.

His finger was pointed at Gojo Satoru, trembling with anger. "What are you doing! Are you crazy?!"

Under his lead, everyone at the table stood up and started cursing at Gojo Satoru.

But they weren't all fools.

In the middle of the cursing, a dozen people left footprints in the pool of blood as they rushed towards the door.

The footsteps were chaotic; someone tripped over a chair that had fallen to the ground and almost fell. No one looked back; everyone was looking at the doorway.

But Mashiro clearly wouldn't give them a chance to escape.

Spatial rifts appeared out of thin air in front of the gate, opening one after another, layer upon layer, forming a grid that blocked the entire gate.

The person running in front saw nothing and crashed straight into the crevice.

The body was sliced ​​open the moment it was touched, blood sprayed onto the door frame, and the mango-sized corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud as it hit the pool of blood, making the people behind stop in their tracks.

Those with a strong sense of danger managed to stop themselves in front of the crack, the edge of which was only a fist's distance from the tip of their nose.

He leaned back and fell to the ground, crawling backward with his hands braced against the blood.

People at the door were backing away, their chests heaving violently, as they returned to the conference room.

Blood flowed from the bodies on the floor, down their shoes, and splattered blood dripped down the cracks in the door frame.