Facing Kenpachi Zaraki (7)

The light shone from the Imperial Throne Liu Hao sat, precisely covering every wound of Kenpachi Zaraki, like a mother's hand caressing a child's scars, like the spring sun melting the winter ice and snow.

Wherever the light touched, wounds began to heal at a visible speed—torn flesh regenerated, severed blood vessels reconnected, and broken bones repaired.

Those deep, bone-revealing knife wounds turned into faint scars within seconds, while the shallower wounds left no scars at all, and the skin healed as if it had never been injured.

This is another terrifying aspect of Liu Hao's Bankai. He can instantly heal anyone injured within the range of his Bankai, and can even regenerate severed fingers.

Kenpachi Zaraki felt a strange change taking place in his body. This change did not come from external healing, but from deep within himself—from his soul, from the very source of his power.

He felt something within him loosening, crumbling, dissolving. It was a seal he had placed on himself in his youth, a shackle he had deliberately inflicted upon himself after his battle with Retsu Unohana in pursuit of the thrill of combat.

The seal had existed for far too long, so long that he had forgotten its existence, so long that he had become accustomed to being sealed, so long that he thought his power was limited to this much.

But at this moment, the seal is peeling away layer by layer, like ice and snow melting in the sunlight in spring, like darkness receding in the dawn.

He felt a surge of power, suppressed for hundreds of years, welling up from the depths of his soul, like a flood bursting its banks, like an erupting volcano, like a bursting star.

Those forces surged, churned, the Roar within him, cleansing his meridians, tempering his muscles, strengthening his bones, and elevating his soul.

This feeling made him feel so comfortable that he almost groaned. He felt his body melting, dissolving, and being reborn. It wasn't a painful, struggling, or distorted change, but a natural, fluid, and joyful evolution.

Like a caterpillar breaking free of its cocoon to become a butterfly, like a tadpole transforming into a frog, like a fledgling bird spreading its wings to soar, every cell in his body was cheering, every muscle was trembling, and every bone was singing.

He felt himself leaping from one form of existence to a higher one; he was becoming stronger, purer, and closer to the essence of power.

Kenpachi Zaraki's fighting style also changed accordingly. His swordsmanship became more unrestrained, more ruthless, and more unpredictable.

Each of his strikes carried a more terrifying power than the last, so powerful that the ground beneath his feet shattered with each strike, sending shards of stone flying and dust billowing everywhere.

His speed was also constantly increasing, and the afterimages he left in the air became more and more numerous and dense, as if countless Kenpachi Zaraki were attacking the Imperial Guard at the same time.

His Reiatsu surged like a volcanic eruption, its Reiatsu, ferocity, and madness creating a suffocating sense of oppression for everyone on the sidelines.

Imperial Guard's expression remained cold and stern, but a subtle change flashed in his deep eyes. He sensed Kenpachi Zaraki's transformation, felt his power steadily increasing, and felt his fighting spirit rising ever higher.

This man's growth rate exceeded his expectations. His swordsmanship became increasingly difficult to deal with, his strength increasingly difficult to resist, and his speed increasingly difficult to keep up with.

The Imperial Guard also began to show marks: wounds from Kenpachi Zaraki's Zanpakuto, the tiger's mouth cracked by his power, and the meridians damaged by his Reiatsu.

Finally, in another fierce battle, Kenpachi Zaraki seized a fleeting opportunity.

His Zanpakuto drew a huge silver arc in the air, like a comet streaking across the night sky, like a giant wave rising from the sea, like lightning striking down from the heavens. The blade, carrying earth-shattering power, slashed fiercely at the Imperial Guard.

The Imperial Guard raised his sword to parry, but the power of Kenpachi Zaraki's strike surpassed any of his previous attacks. The power was like a mountain collapsing, a tsunami crashing, or the sky falling.

"Puff--"

A dull thud, like a sharp blade slicing through flesh and bone, like a sickle cutting through straw, rang out. One of the Imperial Guard's arms was severed cleanly at the shoulder. The severed arm tumbled through the air a few times before landing on the ground with a dull thud.

Blood gushed from the cut, drawing a shocking red arc in the air before splashing onto the ground, creating tiny blood flowers.

Imperial Guard's body jerked backward, creating distance between him and Kenpachi Zaraki. His face remained expressionless, as if what had been severed was not his own arm, but merely a piece of insignificant wood.

Kenpachi Zaraki carried his Zanpakuto on his shoulder, the blade still stained with the blood of the Imperial Guards. The blood slowly slid down the blade, dripping onto his shoulder and then flowing down his clothes.

His breathing was rapid and heavy, but his face was full of a satisfied smile. His eyes gleamed with the light of victory, a light that carried pride, smugness, and a hint of provocation towards Liu Hao. He turned his head to look at Liu Hao, who sat upright on the Imperial Throne, and grinned, revealing his signature unrestrained smile.

"Liu Hao!" Kenpachi Zaraki's voice echoed in the empty space, carrying the triumphant pride of a victor and a yearning for an even stronger opponent. "You, a mere Imperial Guard, have been defeated! You'd better come down and fight me yourself!"

His voice grew louder, more impassioned, and more fervent. His eyes burned with an even more intense fighting spirit, a fighting spirit that burned like flames, churned like magma, and shone like the sun.

The crowd on the sidelines tensed up. Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto frowned, his gaze shifting back and forth between Kenpachi Zaraki and Liu Hao.

Retsu Unohana's gaze deepened, and her fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the hilt of her Zanpakuto at her waist.

Yachiru Kusajishi clenched her hands even tighter, her knuckles turning pale and bluish, her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes were filled with complex emotions.

Isane Kotetsu's mouth opened slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. Her face was pale, and her forehead was covered in sweat.

Ichigo Kurosaki leaned forward slightly, his hands clenched into fists, ready to strike at any moment.

However, Liu Hao, seated on the Imperial Throne, remained dignified and composed. His Imperial Crown shimmered with golden light in the dim light, the mythical beast patterns on his Imperial Robes seemed to move slowly, and the armrests on either side of the Imperial Throne glowed faintly.

His gaze fell on Kenpachi Zaraki, a gaze calm and profound, like a bottomless pool, like a vast and boundless starry sky. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a faint smile, a smile that contained the composure of an Emperor, as well as a sense of pity for Kenpachi Zaraki.

"Defeated?" Liu Hao's voice came from the Imperial Throne, not loud, but clearly reaching the ears of everyone present. His voice carried an undeniable authority, and a rejection of Kenpachi Zaraki's judgment. "Captain Zaraki, what makes you think the Imperial Guard was defeated?"

Kenpachi Zaraki's smile froze on his face. His brows furrowed slightly, and a hint of confusion flashed in his eyes. He looked down at the severed arm on the ground, then at the still-bleeding wound on the Imperial Guard, before raising his head to look at Liu Hao with a puzzled expression. He had clearly severed the Imperial Guard's arm, the Imperial Guard was clearly injured, and the Imperial Guard's sword had clearly fallen to the ground—wasn't this a defeat?

But he still turned his head and shifted his gaze to the Imperial Guard.

Then, his eyes widened.