Three colors mingled in the light inside the rooms.
Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy.
They spilled through the open doors, flowed across the stone floor, and stretched Yan Si's shadow into three, each tinted a different color.
Yan Si stood in the light, his gaze sweeping from the first room to the third.
Liquid swirled slowly in the vats, tiny specks of Reishi light floating on its surface.
Most of what Tokinada had just said was probably true.
At least, there was no mistaking the harvesting.
Thousands of years.
As that number surfaced in his mind, Yan Si let out a soft breath.
He took two steps forward and stopped before a vat of Shinigami soul liquid.
Behind its translucent walls, the pale blue liquid was as thick as melted crystal.
Yan Si reached out and pressed his palm against the cold vat. An extremely faint, almost imperceptible vibration came through it.
It was the last lingering pulse of souls forcibly stripped away, compressed, and imprisoned here.
Over a hundred million?
Yan Si withdrew his hand and glanced across the three rooms.
By a rough estimate, there were more than fifty vats piled here.
As for each vat's capacity, if one unit of Soul Power equaled one ordinary human soul, as Tokinada had said...
"Three hundred million."
He murmured the number.
Then he smiled, without a trace of warmth in his eyes.
And this was just the Tsunayashiro Clan.
The other three great noble clans apparently had not taken part.
But what about the upper- and middle-ranking nobles entrenched in the Human World? These people treated themselves as shepherds, harvesting at will.
Wool, meat, blood, marrow-not a scrap left.
Disgust flickered in his eyes.
Tokinada was a madman, and a madman's words could not be trusted completely.
Especially when it came to