Chapter 102: Picking up flowers in the morning and evening, extra two
Xia Yujie sat on the futon and stretched out his fingers carefully, not to attack, but with a sense of exploration. His fingertips touched the soft corner of the baby's eyes very gently, as if to confirm the authenticity of the sky blue.
His cursed power was like the most precise probe, carefully probing into the baby's tiny, still developing body.
In an instant, his brows were tightly furrowed, and a hint of doubt flashed in his narrow eyes.
He could clearly sense that within this young body, two completely different yet incredibly powerful sources of power were sleeping.
He was extremely familiar with a power - it was a pure fragment of power belonging to the "Six Eyes" and the unlimited technique!
Although it is still very weak, its essence is the same as Gojo Satoru's, like a brilliant diamond vein buried deep underground, which will surely shine with stunning light in time.
And that other force… Geto Suguru's fingertips paused slightly. That feeling was even more obscure, even more… ominous.
It was forcibly suppressed and twisted by an extremely powerful sealing technique with an ancient taboo aura, like a seed blocked by countless thorns.
The feeling that power gave him... unexpectedly resonated strangely with his original technique, yet it also carried a completely different, violent feeling belonging to vitality.
It's like a kind of... "Wood-type Curse Spirit Manipulation Technique" that has been forcibly distorted and suppressed?
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
What is the origin of this baby? Is it a power container that fell from the sky? Or is it some kind of shocking conspiracy?
The carrier? Late at night, everything is silent.
The fervor of the congregants subsided temporarily, as Xia Yujie ordered them not to be disturbed. The earth-shattering vision of the day was now replaced by only moonlight, flowing quietly through the makeshift, cozy nursery.
Gojo Satoru's tall figure silently appeared at the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. His six blue eyes, like two quiet flames in the darkness, precisely locked onto Geto Suguru and the swaddling child in his arms. He said nothing, simply watching.
Geto Suguru looked up, and their eyes met in the dim light. Without needing words, each understood the doubt and solemnity in the other's heart. Gojo Satoru's night visit was itself a silent questioning and confirmation.
The test is coming soon.
"Woo-wa-wa-wa!" A resounding cry shattered the night's stillness. Was the little ancestor hungry? Had he peed? No one knew. The experienced curse caster and the most powerful sorcerer, faced with a baby waving its fists and sobbing heartbreakingly, were instantly thrown into disarray.
"Damn it, how come this thing is even harder than a first-level cursed spirit?" Geto Xia Yu's brows knitted together as he tried to untie the complicated swaddling clothes and diapers, his movements as stiff as a marionette. His proud cursed spirit manipulation skills were useless at this moment.
"Use your cursed power, idiot Gon!" Gojo Satoru, unable to bear the sight, leaned forward, his tone filled with his usual disdain and self-righteousness. He raised his hand, attempting to use the exquisite repulsive field of the "No Limits" technique to gently lift the baby's bottom like a feather, making it easier for Geto Suguru to operate.
The idea is beautiful, but the reality is cruel.
"A-choo!" Perhaps it was the change in airflow caused by the micro-manipulation of cursed power, or perhaps it was a coincidence, the baby suddenly sneezed loudly.
Along with the sneeze, a small stream of warm, milky-smelling liquid - maybe saliva, or maybe something else - splashed out precisely, instantly wetting the front of Gojo Satoru's expensive black high school uniform, and also falling spots on the cuffs of Geto Suguru's dark purple robes.
The air froze for a second.
Geto Xia Yu looked at the suspicious wetness on his sleeve, then at the more obvious puddle on Gojo Satoru's chest. His nerves, tense all day, suddenly relaxed. He chuckled softly, wiping himself with a clean towel while glancing at Gojo Satoru with a rare hint of mischief in his voice: "Hey, Satoru, are you okay?"
Gojo Satoru's face darkened as he snatched the towel from Geto's hand and wiped his face and clothes vigorously, muttering unyieldingly, "Humph, when I single-handedly exorcised the special-grade cursed spirit [Tamamonomae], you didn't think I was clumsy!"
After the words fell, both of them were stunned for a moment. Those distant memories of fighting side by side, sharing life and death, seemed to be gently stirred by these careless words.
They looked at each other subconsciously, their eyes briefly touching in the air, and then they turned away quickly almost at the same time as if they were burned.
A subtle, indescribable embarrassment and nostalgia quietly permeated the air, but was concealed by each of them with their usual awkwardness.
After a battle-like struggle (feeding, burping, and changing diapers again), the little one finally fell asleep contentedly on the soft bedding with a pacifier in his mouth.
He curled up between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, like a little animal that had found a warm nest. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, gently casting a soft glow on his delicate face.
Her long eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows under her eyes, and there was a little undried milk stain at the corner of her mouth, making her look extremely innocent and peaceful.
The room was completely quiet, with only the baby's even, soft breathing as the sound could be heard.
However, Geto Suguru's gaze did not fall on the baby's peaceful sleeping face, but was staring at the back of the little neck.
In the moonlight, an extremely tiny mark with a very light color and a shape like entangled vines and twisted runes can be vaguely seen.
He extended his finger and, from a distance, very gently traced the outline of the mark. His voice was extremely low, like a whisper, filled with endless inquiry and heaviness:
"Little guy... who are you?"
Gojo Satoru closed his eyes, seemingly dozing off, but upon hearing this, the corners of his mouth curled up in a lazy, habitual arc, as if stating a matter-of-fact fact:
"Nonsense, of course he's my son."
The picture freezes at this moment:
Outside the window, the cold moonlight was like a silver veil, gently enveloping this strange family of three—the awkward strongest, the pensive leader, and the mysterious baby.
In the distance, the low, lullaby-like goodnight chanting of the Panxing Sect's Night Watchmen could be faintly heard, ethereal and pious.
The baby turned over unconsciously in his sleep, and his chubby little hand scratched the air a few times. Then, he accurately and tightly grasped a strand of Suguru Geto's half-bun black hair that fell down, and refused to let go.
In the moonlight, the mark on the back of the neck seemed to flicker extremely faintly with the baby's breathing, and then disappeared into the delicate skin texture, as if it had never appeared.
The night is long, the mystery deep. Does this baby, dropped from the sky, bring a spark of hope or the prelude to disaster? No one knows. Beneath the tranquil moonlit night, the undercurrent of fate quietly surges.
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