Battle Against Kenpachi Zaraki (Twelve)

Kenpachi Zaraki's eyes were bloodshot, and his furious gaze seemed to want to burn everything in front of him to ashes.

His pupils reflected the composed figure on the Imperial Throne in the distance— Liu Hao was sitting there, one hand gently resting on the head of Yachiru Kusajishi, seven-colored light pouring down from his palm, enveloping the small body in a dreamlike glow.

A faint smile graced Liu Hao's face. The smile was gentle and calm, without the slightest panic or tension, as if everything happening before him was just a predictable scene, as if Kenpachi Zaraki's overwhelming rage and frenzied charge were merely insignificant trifles.

He didn't speak, nor did he even glance at Kenpachi Zaraki. His attention seemed entirely focused on Yachiru Kusajishi beneath his palm, on the seven-colored liquid slowly merging into her body, and on this ritual concerning Yachiru's fate. This indifference, this composure, this calm as if everything was under his control, pierced Kenpachi Zaraki's heart more than any words.

However, just as Kenpachi Zaraki was about to rush in front of Liu Hao, six black figures appeared around him at the same time, like six black lightning bolts falling from the sky, or six black iron walls rising from the ground, surrounding him completely.

Six Imperial Guards, six identical figures, six cold and ruthless faces, six Tang Dao as black as ink. They stood in a perfect circle, Kenpachi Zaraki in the very center, leaving him no chance to escape.

Their positions were so precise, as if measured with a ruler, with equal distances between them, symmetrical angles, and synchronized breathing. It was as if they were not six independent individuals, but six parts of a whole, a perfect killing machine controlled by Liu Hao's will.

One of the Imperial Guards stepped forward, blocking Kenpachi Zaraki's view of Liu Hao. His Tang Dao pointed diagonally at the ground, with Kenpachi Zaraki's blood still clinging to the tip. The blood slowly slid down the blade and dripped onto the ground, making a soft "drip-drip" sound.

His gaze was cold and calm, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, only a pure, unadulterated killing intent. His lips parted slightly, and his voice, like the cold winter wind, like an icy blade, spoke each word clearly, "To approach the Emperor, you must defeat us!"

These words were spoken with absolute certainty and brooked no argument, as if declaring an inviolable iron law, as if stating an unchangeable fact. The Imperial Guard's tone left no room for negotiation, no possibility of compromise, only an absolute and unchallengeable authority.

Kenpachi Zaraki stared at the Imperial Guard blocking his path, his eyes burning with fury that seemed to consume the man. His pupils reflected the Imperial Guard's cold, handsome face, his black Tang Dao, and his flawless stance.

His breathing was rapid and heavy, each exhale carrying a strong stench of blood. His chest heaved violently, and his hands gripped the hilt of his Zanpakuto tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, and the veins on the back of his hands bulging like writhing earthworms or coiling snakes.

He didn't speak. At a time like this, any words would be superfluous, any nonsense a waste of time. Kenpachi Zaraki was never one to express himself with words; his language was his sword, his expression his battle. He didn't need to say anything to the Imperial Guards, because he would answer everything with the Zanpakuto in his hand.

Kenpachi Zaraki pushed off the ground with both feet, his body shooting towards the Imperial Guards like a cannonball. His speed was astonishing; the ground shattered beneath his feet, sending shards of stone flying and dust billowing everywhere.

He held his Zanpakuto high, its blade gleaming with a cold light, the serrated notches on the surface appearing particularly menacing under the illumination. His eyes burned with a fierce fighting spirit, a spirit that burned like flames, churned like magma, and shone like the sun.

However, faced with Kenpachi Zaraki's charge, the Imperial Guards showed no panic, no retreat, and not even any unnecessary movements.

They simply stood there quietly, six Tang Dao raised simultaneously, their tips pointing at Kenpachi Zaraki, six pairs of eyes locked onto his figure, and six killing intents locked onto his soul.

Their coordination was seamless, as if they shared the same consciousness, as if they were six avatars of one person, as if they were six extensions of Liu Hao's will.

Kenpachi Zaraki's battle with the Imperial Guards erupted once again, but this time, his opponent was not one person, but six. Six Imperial Guards, each possessing the same speed, strength, and skill, attacked him simultaneously from six different directions, at six different angles, and at six different speeds.

During the fight, Kenpachi Zaraki was completely unable to withstand the combined attack of six Imperial Guards. Although his Zanpakuto was wild and his strength was terrifying, no matter how fast he was, he could not deal with attacks from six directions at the same time; no matter how strong his defense was, he could not block the slashes of six Tang Dao at the same time; no matter how sharp his reflexes were, he could not dodge the thrusts from six angles at the same time.

A Tang Dao stabbed at him from behind. He dodged to the side, but the blade still slashed his shoulder, and blood gushed out. Another Tang Dao slashed at him from the left. He raised his sword to block, but the impact made his arm go numb, and his hand split open again, with blood dripping down the hilt of the sword.

Another Tang Dao came thrusting from his right side. He had no time to dodge and could only watch helplessly as the blade pierced his waist. A sharp pain came from the wound, making his body shudder violently.

New wounds kept appearing on his body, some deep enough to expose the bone, some over a foot long, some on his chest, some on his back, some on his arms, and some on his legs.

The crisscrossing wounds, dense and numerous, transformed him into a horrifying sight. Blood gushed from his wounds, staining his already tattered Shihakushō a dark red. Bloodstains were scattered all over the ground, pooling into small pools that shimmered with a dark red light in the dim glow.

However, the moment the wound appears, a warm and gentle light immediately envelops Kenpachi Zaraki. Wherever the light touches, the wound begins to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye—torn flesh regenerates, severed blood vessels reconnect, and broken bones repair themselves.

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.