Facing Kenpachi Zaraki (Five)
On the left appears a woman. She is slender and elegant, with a delicate and beautiful face. Her long hair cascades down her back like a waterfall, the strands of hair swaying gently in the air as if they were alive.
She wore a magnificent robe, its color as vibrant as the morning glow or the evening glow, both colorful and elegant. In her arms she held a sword—the very same Imperial Sword that had just vanished into specks of light.
The Imperial Sword lay quietly in her arms, its light reflecting off her own, as if they were one, as if she were the soul of the Imperial Sword and the Imperial Sword was her body.
On the right appeared a man. He was tall and robust, with a well-proportioned and powerful physique, exuding a sharp aura. His face was cold and resolute, as if carved by a knife and axe, with distinct features and no superfluous expression.
His eyes were deep and sharp, like two drawn swords, making people afraid to look directly at him. He wore a black, form-fitting outfit that clung to his body, perfectly outlining his powerful muscle lines.
A black Tang Dao hung at his waist. The Tang Dao was entirely black, with no decoration on its scabbard, exuding a pure and simple aesthetic. Yet, everyone could sense the terrifying power contained within that seemingly ordinary Tang Dao.
The Imperial Princess Imperial Guards stood on either side of the Imperial Throne, like two guardian deities protecting Liu Hao, who sat on the Imperial Throne.
The Imperial Princess's expression was gentle and serene, with a faint smile at the corner of her lips. There was an indescribable charm in that smile, as if she were watching an interesting performance, as if she were looking forward to the arrival of a wonderful moment.
The Imperial Guard's expression was cold and serious. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, only a pure and unadorned killing intent. His hand rested lightly on the Tang Dao at his waist, ready to draw his sword at any moment, ready to fight at any moment, ready to kill any enemy for Liu Hao at any moment.
As Liu Hao's Bankai was fully activated, the wounds on his body began to heal rapidly. The sword wounds left by Kenpachi Zaraki, the bruises from the battle, and the hidden injuries caused by the backlash of Reiatsu were all recovering at a visible speed.
The skin and flesh at the wound site began to grow, new cells replaced the damaged cells, broken blood vessels reconnected, and severed nerves rejoined. The scars gradually faded, shortened, and became less noticeable, eventually disappearing completely without leaving a trace.
Liu Hao sat on the Imperial Throne, looking down at Kenpachi Zaraki. His gaze was calm and profound, like a bottomless pool or a vast, boundless starry sky. A faint smile appeared on his lips, a smile that contained the composure of an Emperor and the expectation of a warrior. He slowly raised his right hand, extending his index finger and pointing it at Kenpachi Zaraki.
A soft, warm light shone down, like the spring sunshine, like a winter fire, like the warmth of a mother's embrace. The light enveloped Kenpachi Zaraki. It pierced through his clothes, his skin, his muscles, and penetrated his bones, his internal organs, and his soul.
Kenpachi Zaraki's body trembled violently. He felt a warm power surging into him from outside his body, like a warm river flowing through him. Wherever it went, all the pain was relieved and all the wounds began to heal.
The deep sword wound on his chest began to heal rapidly under the light. The skin and flesh on both sides of the wound began to grow, approaching and connecting with each other, eventually completely healing, leaving only a faint scar.
The wound on his left arm, pierced by the longsword, also healed rapidly under the light; the damaged muscles regenerated, the severed blood vessels reconnected, and even the severed nerves rejoined.
His other wounds, those big and small, deep and shallow, old and new, all healed rapidly under the light.
Kenpachi Zaraki looked down at his wounds healing at a visible speed, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. But he didn't dwell on it too much. He raised his head, looked at Liu Hao sitting on the Imperial Throne, and his fighting spirit rekindled in his eyes.
His injuries have fully healed, his stamina has fully recovered, and his Reiatsu has fully recovered. He is in even better condition than before the battle began.
His opponent, Liu Hao, sat on the majestic Imperial Throne, looking down at him with a scrutinizing gaze, an expectant look, and an unsettling composure.
Liu Hao looked at Kenpachi Zaraki, his smile deepening.
His voice came from the Imperial Throne, not loud, but clearly reaching Kenpachi Zaraki's ears. It carried an Emperor majesty, a warrior's expectation, and an appreciation as if admiring a work of art. "Captain Zaraki, let me see what you can do now."
Kenpachi Zaraki's smile widened upon hearing Liu Hao's words. He liked Liu Hao's attitude—a condescending yet respectful and expectant one.
He enjoyed the feeling of being tested, evaluated, and valued. He grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth, his eyes burning with fierce fighting spirit.
"Hahaha..." Kenpachi Zaraki's laughter echoed in the empty space, a laugh filled with excitement, anticipation, and a hint of impatience. "Then let me show you! Let's see just how far I can go!"
Before he finished speaking, the Imperial Guards beside the Imperial Throne moved.
The Imperial Guard's figure vanished from beside the Imperial Throne, moving with such speed that it seemed to traverse space itself. Without warning, without a trace, without a sound, he simply disappeared into thin air, as if he had never existed at all.
Only a faint Reiatsu fluctuation remained in the air, so weak that it was almost imperceptible. If one did not consciously perceive it, one would not notice it at all. The next second, the Imperial Guard appeared in front of Kenpachi Zaraki.
The Imperial Guard's right hand rested on the hilt of the Tang Dao at his waist. His fingers were long and strong, with distinct knuckles, and his skin was so white it was almost translucent. With a gentle push, the Tang Dao slid out of its scabbard, the blade rubbing against the scabbard and producing a soft hissing sound, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, like a cold wind blowing through withered branches, like a sharp blade slicing through silk.
The Tang Dao was drawn from its sheath with astonishing speed, the blade drawing a black arc in the air—a beautiful yet deadly arc, like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, a shark swimming in the deep sea, or a tiger leaping out of the jungle.