Battle Against the Arrancar (5)

Ulquiorra Cifer's eyes narrowed slightly, and a genuine flicker of emotion finally appeared in his empty green eyes. He could sense that Liu Ziyun wasn't boasting or bluffing—he truly had the confidence and the ability.

"Is that so?" Ulquiorra's voice remained calm, but his Reiatsu began to slowly rise.

The Reiatsu was cold and deep, like a bottomless abyss or the cold winter night. The surrounding air began to become heavy, and fine frost condensed on the ground, not because of Tōshirō Hitsugaya's Hyōrinmaru, but because of Ulquiorra's overwhelming Reiatsu.

Liu Ziyun sensed the Reiatsu and frowned slightly. He wasn't worried about himself, but about the others around him—if Ulquiorra went all out, few of the Soul Reaper present would likely escape unscathed.

Just as the two were on the verge of a fierce battle—

After bursting out of the Visoreds ' base, Ichigo Kurosaki rushed towards the direction with the densest Reiatsu from the Arrancars. He was incredibly fast, his black Shihakusho fluttering in the wind, and he gripped Tensa Zangetsu tightly in his hand, the Reiatsu on the blade trembling slightly, as if it too yearned for battle.

However, as he passed through a grove of trees and was about to speed up, a figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere and blocked his way.

He was a man with light blue hair and beast-like eyes. He exuded a wild and violent aura, like a predator eyeing its prey, sending chills down one's spine. A bloodthirsty smile played on his lips, and his eyes were filled with the excitement of a hunter encountering its prey.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Ichigo Kurosaki stopped in his tracks, Tensa Zangetsu horizontally in front of him, warily watching the uninvited guest. His gaze involuntarily fell on Grimmjow's right arm—it was empty, the sleeve fluttering gently in the wind. The last time they fought in Soul Society, Liu Ziyun severed his arm, and now it seemed that the severed arm had not been reattached.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo Kurosaki asked, frowning, "Why isn't your hand reattached?"

This question pierced Grimmjow's heart like a knife. His face instantly darkened, and a ferocious killing intent flashed in his eyes.

He recalled the scene from that day—after his arm was severed by Liu Ziyun, he was taken back to Las Noches by Kaname Tōsen. He had thought that Aizen would order his severed arm to be reattached, after all, he was Espada and one of Aizen's most important combat forces.

However, Kaname Tōsen stepped forward at that moment and said in a cold, almost cruel tone, "Losers have no right to keep their bodies intact."

Aizen didn't speak, only watching everything with his perpetually unfathomable eyes. Grimmjow thought Aizen would stop him, would speak up for him—but Aizen said nothing, only watched silently, a faint smile even playing on his lips.

Kaname Tōsen make his move. He raised his hand, uttered the Release Phrase for releasing the Kidō, and a beam of light struck the severed arm. In that beam of light, the severed arm turned into ashes, gradually dissipating into the air.

Grimmjow wanted to stop it, but he was bound and could do nothing. He could only watch helplessly as his arm turned to dust, and ashes drifted through his fingers.

"This is your punishment." Kaname Tōsen's voice was as cold as iron. "Acting without authorization, engaging the enemy without permission, and suffering a defeat. You have tarnished the name of the Espada. From this day forward, you are no longer Espada."

At that moment, Grimmjow's anger erupted like a volcano. He hated Kaname Tōsen, hated the man who had stripped him of his arm and status. He hated himself even more, hated his incompetence, hated his failure. But what he hated most was Liu Ziyun —the man who had severed his arm with a single stroke, the man who had made him lose everything.

Now, Ichigo Kurosaki mentioned his arm, bringing up the humiliation he least wanted to recall.

"Kid," Grimmjow's voice was low and hoarse, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, "Dealing with you doesn't require two hands. So that hand... I threw it away."

He paused, his gaze sweeping around as if searching for someone. "What, you didn't bring that guy named Liu Ziyun this time? Are you afraid I'll kill him, or is he too scared to come?"

Ichigo Kurosaki Tensa Zangetsu, his wariness turning into determination. "To deal with you, I don't need my teacher to step in."

These words were like adding fuel to the fire, intensifying the murderous intent in Grimmjow's eyes. He sneered, his laughter full of mockery. "Is that so? Then let me see what your apprentice has actually learned!"

Ichigo Kurosaki remained silent. He gripped Tensa Zangetsu with both hands, and his Reiatsu erupted— Bankai! The long blade of Tensa Zangetsu gleamed with black light in the sunlight, and his Reiatsu spread outwards like a storm, rustling the leaves around him.

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo Kurosaki's Bankai form, his sneer deepening, "Your Bankai... seems rather useless."

He had seen far too many flashy Bankai, far too many seemingly elegant but utterly ineffective moves. To him, Ichigo Kurosaki's Tensa Zangetsu was nothing more than a sword that had become thinner and longer—what power could it possibly possess?

Ichigo Kurosaki remained unmoved. His gaze was calm as still water, his tone carrying an undeniable confidence. "You seem to have forgotten... the scar on your chest."

Grimmjow's expression changed instantly. He subconsciously looked down at his chest—there, a hideous scar stretched from his shoulder to his waist, a mark left from his Ichigo Kurosaki.

That scar still aches faintly, reminding him how much he had underestimated his opponent, and reminding him that this "kid" was far more complex than he appeared.

"Is that so?" Grimmjow's voice grew even more sinister, the killing intent in his eyes almost tangible. "How many times can you unleash an attack of that caliber?"

Ichigo Kurosaki did not answer. He raised his left hand, slowly covering his face. Black Reiatsu began to gather on his left hand, as thick as ink, as deep as the night. The Reiatsu grew stronger and more solid, finally condensing into a mask on his face—