Human World, A Bookstore.
Ding bell~
The doorbell rang loudly.
Ichigo Kurosaki opened the door and walked in, followed by two people.
"Master, I'm here."
His voice is much calmer than two years ago, his shoulders are broader, and his school uniform stretches out his boyish silhouette.
Orihime Inoue poked his head out from behind him, with orange hair tied into a ponytail and bright eyes.
"Hello, store manager~" she greeted energetically, her voice echoing in Bookstore, as if it was bringing in the sunshine from outside.
Yasutora Sado, who was walking at the back, lowered his head slightly. The door frame was a bit short for him.
He nodded towards the counter, slightly but seriously, with a hint of shyness on his dark face.
Yan Si stood up from behind the counter, closed the book in his hand, and placed the cover down on the table.
He glanced at the three of them, and his eyes paused on Ichigo. This kid has grown taller again.
"Master, why did you come to us?" Ichigo walked to the counter, put his hands on the counter, and frowned slightly.
A Bookstore has been opened near Karakura Town High School for many years and has always been the favorite place for students.
Not only because of Shuquan, but also because of the person Shopkeeper Siwei Yan sitting behind the counter.
The author of the best-selling novel series "Rukongai" has a handsome appearance and a gentle temperament. Just sitting there makes people want to stay a little longer.
Orihime Inoue and Yasutora Sado are also regular visitors here.
It's just that Inoue lost his only guardian brother not long ago, and his financial source has been cut off. Recently, he has to be careful about even buying reference books.
Chado's family conditions were also not good. Except for the necessary materials for study, he read other books while standing in front of the bookshelf and never took them to the counter.
Yan Si knows these things well.
He smiled, walked out from behind the counter, and stood in front of the three people.
"Summer vacation is about to begin." His voice was very soft, but every word was clear, "I have to go out for a long time for something, so I would like to ask the three of you to help me look after the store."
"Looking at the store?" Ichigo frowned. He didn't agree immediately.
Master suddenly said that he would be away for a long time, which was wrong.
During the years of knowing Yan Si, Ichigo has long believed that his master is the invisible guardian of the world.
Master is leaving.
Something bad must have happened.
Ichigo's right hand was unconsciously pressed on his chest. There was a silver necklace hanging there, which was given by the master when he became a disciple.
"Sorry, I..."
Yasutora Sado's voice was low and hesitant.
He rubbed his fingers on the seam of his trousers and looked at the ground.
He wanted to refuse.
During the summer vacation, he had to work at construction sites, moving companies, or delivering goods, wherever the hourly wages were high.
Bookstore's salary... I'm afraid it's not enough. Yan Si glanced at him and raised the corners of his mouth slightly.
"While working, you can read all the books in the store for free."
He paused, stretched out his hand and raised a finger.
"The hourly wage is fifteen hundred dollars."
Yasutora Sado's eyes widened instantly.
One thousand five hundred yuan.
For a day's work of moving bricks on a construction site, the hourly wage is only a little over a thousand.
Moreover, the work was extremely tiring, from morning to night, and I couldn't straighten my back the next day.
Here? Sitting? Reading?
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Can I really read books casually?" Orihime Inoue's focus is completely in another direction.
Her eyes were as bright as two stars, she put her hands together on her chest and leaned forward slightly. Yan Si smiled and nodded.
Then he walked up to Yasutora Sado, raised his hand and patted his shoulder.
The force wasn't heavy, but Chadoo could feel the warmth of that hand, and there was some indescribable sense of stability.
"That's it." Yan Si's tone left no room for negotiation, "You will start working today. As for how to take turns, the three of us will discuss it."
He turned and walked towards the door.
"Wait..."
Ichigo chased after him.
Bookstore At the door, the sun shone down from the eaves, cutting a dividing line between light and dark at the feet of the two people.
Ichigo lowered his voice and spoke very quickly.
"Master, what happened?"
He raised his head, and there was no childishness in his eyes, only seriousness and determination.
"Now with my strength, can I help?" For more than a year, he patrolled the streets of Karakura Town every night.
He killed many of the monsters that emerged from Garganta.
At first, my hands would shake and I would have nightmares, but now I'm used to it.
He knew he had become stronger.
He is so strong that he can feel that none of the Shinigami uniforms in this city who are wearing black Shinigamis are his opponents.
Yan Si looked at him for two seconds.
Then he laughed.
There was a trace of relief in that smile, but also a trace of something inexplicable.
"Ichigo, you are very strong now." His voice became softer, "Also, maybe because you are a human being, even if Karakura Town explodes with full power, it will not have a big impact on the balance of the surrounding Reishi."
He turned sideways, looked over Ichigo's shoulder, and looked toward the end of the street.
There were several students in school uniforms walking by, talking and laughing.
"In this city, those Shinigami alone are not enough." Ichigo's brows furrowed even more tightly.
"So I leave this to you."
Yan Si looked away and fell on the face of the orange-haired boy in front of him.
"Your strength, even among Shinigami, is Captain-level."
Captain-level bie.
Ichigo knows the weight of these four words.
He read in "Rukongai"... The captain of Thirteen Court Guard Squads is the thirteen strongest people in Soul Society.
"Master..."
His voice was a little tight.
What Master is going to do this time may not be as simple as "going out for a trip".
Yan Si stretched out his hand and pressed on Ichigo's shoulder.
The palm of the hand is very stable, not heavy, but it is like a mountain pressing down. "Ichigo, you already know very well about Three Realms."
His voice became serious, and every word struck Ichigo's ears.
"Protect Human World Reishi Concentration Point, protect your family, this is what you should do."
Pinch your palms together and use your fingers slightly.
"As for charging outside, leave it to my master."
Ichigo's lips moved.
He wanted to say, "I want to go too," he wanted to say, "I can help," and he wanted to say, "Master, don't carry it alone."
But the words were stuck in my throat and I couldn't spit out a single word.
Because he knew that what the master said was right.
Karakura Town needs someone to guard her, and her mother and sisters need someone to protect her.
And he is that person.
Ichigo put his right hand on his chest, and through the school uniform, he could feel the outline of the silver necklace. "I will definitely protect this place."
His voice is not high, but very strong.
Like a promise, like an oath.
Yan Si smiled and nodded, turned around and walked towards the corner.
The sun fell on his white shirt, making his shadow very long.
Ichigo stood there, watching the figure go further and further away, turned into the alley, and disappeared into the shadows.
He didn't chase.
He just lowered his hand from his chest, clenched it into a fist, and hung it by his side.
Yan Si The moment he walked into the alley, he lightly traced his finger in the air.
A crack opened in the air, and Reishi poured out from the edge of the crack, glowing with light blue light.
He stepped in.
Senkaimon closed up behind him, as if it had never existed. When he reappeared, he was already standing at the door of the Shihoin Clan's Estate.
No announcements, no stops.
He went straight through the gate, walked around the vestibule, and walked along the stone path paved with fine white sand.
The guards saw him and bowed their heads slightly to get out of the way.
No one asked out loud.
Shihoin Clan's uncle has no trouble traveling in this Estate.
The bedroom door is ajar.
Sunlight leaked in through the gaps in the paper window, casting several slender strips of light on Tatami.
Yoruichi was half lying on a chair by the window, with a thin blanket covering his body. His long purple hair was scattered on his shoulders, glowing softly in the light.
Her belly is slightly bulging.
Yan Si walked over, squatted down by the chair, and put his hand on the back of her hand.
"Back?" Yoruichi didn't open his eyes, and his voice was a little lazy, as if he had just woken up. "Hmm." Yan Si held her hand tighter, "How do you feel?"
"Heavy." Yoruichi opened his eyes and looked at him sideways with his golden eyes, "It's more tiring than carrying a two-hundred-pound sandbag for a day."
Yan Si smiled.
His hand moved from the back of her hand to her abdomen, his palm pressed against the thin blanket, feeling the slight warmth underneath.
"He kicked you?"
"She." Yoruichi corrected.
"How did you know it was your daughter?"
"Intuition."
The two were silent for a moment.
The only sounds in the room were the rustling of the wind through the paper windows, and the sound of water dripping in the distant courtyard.
"When are you leaving?" Yoruichi asked.
Her voice was very calm, as if she was asking "What's for dinner today?" Yan Si's fingers gently drew circles on her abdomen.
"Wait a moment."
"How long will it take?"
"Leave after the meeting."
Yoruichi finally opened his eyes, turned his head, and faced him.
There were no tears or reluctance in the golden eyes, just a deep gaze.
"Remember..."
Her voice is very soft.
"You have to crawl back even if you crawl."
Yan Si leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers.
The tip of the nose touches the tip of the nose, and the breath is entangled with the breath.
"Remember." He pecked her lightly on the lips, then stood up.
His fingers slipped from the back of her hand.
Turn around and walk towards the door.
When he reached the door, he stopped and did not look back.
"Have you thought of a name yet?"
Yoruichi's voice came from behind, with a hint of smile.
"Name Ming. Yan Si Ming."
Yan Si stood at the door, the sun shining in from the outside and falling on his shoulders.
He didn't speak, just nodded slightly.
Then step out.
First Division Conference Room
When the door was pushed open, everyone inside had already arrived. The captains of Thirteen Court Guard Squads were arranged on both sides, the Vice-Captains of Court Security Guard Squad were standing in the back row, and the Nobles representatives were huddled in the corner, all with gloomy faces, as if they were attending a funeral.
Kyōraku Shunsui stood in front of the main seat. He took off his bamboo hat and put it in his hand, revealing his face that was always three-quarter lazy and seven-quarter shrewd.
He saw Yan Si walking in and nodded.
" Representative Human World is here, let's continue."
Yan Si walked to the end of the queue and stood there, with his hands in his pockets and his back against the wall.
Kyōraku swept across the audience, and his voice fell silent.
"The agreed time has come and Soul King has not come back."
The conference room was quiet for a moment.
No one showed any surprise.
Everyone knows this result.
"So," Kyōraku's voice was low, but every word was like a hammer hitting an anvil, "It's Hell Investigation Corps's turn to take action."
He picked up a list from the table, unfolded it, and read, "Thirteen Court Guard Squads... formerly Captain-General Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Chōjirō Sasakibe, Kenpachi Zaraki, Unohana Retsu, Chiziro Sochika, Kuchiki Byakuya."
The person whose name was read stood in the queue with a calm expression.
Kenpachi Zaraki grinned like a child going on a spring outing.
Unohana Retsu folded his hands in front of him, with a gentle smile on his face, but something was glowing slightly deep in his eyes.
Kuchiki Byakuya stood upright, with his hand on the handle of Senbonzakura, and his eyes looking straight ahead.
Kyōraku Continue to read:
"Nobles... Kasumioji Clan and the elders of each family, a total of eleven people."
The gloomy-looking old men in the corner trembled slightly.
Some people lowered their heads, some gritted their teeth, and some clenched the crutches in their hands.
But no one raised a voice to object.
Because the person standing behind them is Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
The old man was leaning on a cane with his eyes closed, as if he was taking a nap. But no one dared to doubt that as long as someone dared to say the word "no", the Ryūjin Jakka would burn through his throat in the next second.
Kyōraku turned over the list.
"Hueco Mundo... Aizen Sōsuke, Kaname Tōsen, Third Espada Nelliel, Fifth Espada Ulquiorra Cifer, Ninth Espada Ilfort·Glanz."
Yan Si's eyelids raised.
He turned his head and looked at the shadow in the corner of the conference room.
There is nothing there.
But he knew that Aizen could hear every word here even if he wasn't present.
Kyōraku closed the list and raised his head.
"Human World...Siwei Yan."
Yan Si said softly "hmm" as a response.
Kyōraku put down the list, put his hands on the table, and scanned the audience.
"Hell Investigation Corps is composed of Three Realms personnel. The term is... five years." His voice slowed down and every word was spoken clearly.
"After five years, if you have not returned, Thirteen Court Guard Squads will start the captain selection process, and at the same time start the next round of personnel selection for Survey Corps."
He paused.
"At that time, I will give up the position of Captain-General and lead the team to set off."
The conference room was so quiet that you could hear the crackling of candles burning.
No one spoke.
No one thought he was joking.
Kyōraku Shunsui usually looks lazy, but what he says is always serious.
He straightened up and put the hat back on his head. The brim of the hat was lowered, covering most of his face.
"Let's go."
His voice came out from under the brim of his hat, a little muffled, but very clear.
"Go to Hill of the Twin Executions." Hill of the Twin Executions
The wind is very strong.
The top of Hill of the Twin Executions is completely wrapped by the barrier of Kidō Corps. A pale golden light curtain rises from the ground and closes above the head, like an upside-down bowl.
Outside the light curtain is the sky of Seireitei, with blue sky and white clouds, gentle wind and beautiful sun.
Inside the light curtain, the air was so heavy that it seemed to be solidifying.
The body of Ukitake Jūshirō lies on the stone platform in the center.
He was wearing white Captain's Haori, with his hands folded on his abdomen, his face was pale, and his lips were bloodless.
But the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, as if he was having a good dream.
The stone platform is surrounded by sacrificial vessels.
Copper lamps, wood-carved rune plaques, and prayer flags engraved with ancient characters.
The prayer flags fluttered in the wind, making a rustling sound.
Six priests surrounded the stone platform, wearing black and white sacrificial robes, with red lines on their faces. They began to dance.
The dance steps are very slow and heavy, and each step is based on some ancient rhythm.
Lift your left foot and lower it.
Lift your right foot and lower it.
The body is rotated, the arms are extended, and the fingertips point to the sky.
They were chanting incomprehensible incantations, and their voices overlapped together, like wind blowing up from the depths of the canyon.
The firelight danced around them.
The flame in the copper lamp is blue. It does not emit smoke or generate heat. It just burns quietly, reflecting everyone's face in a faint blue.
The ceremony lasted three days.
For three days, no one spoke or left.
The priests danced for three days without stopping.
The dance steps are still the same, the rhythm is still the same, but their faces have become thinner and their eye sockets are sunken, but the light in their eyes has not gone out. At dusk on the third day.
The setting sun shines in from outside the barrier, dyeing the light curtain orange.
Directly above Ukitake Jūshirō, the air began to twist.
At first it was just a small patch, like steaming steam on the road in summer.
Then the distortion grew larger and darker, and the color changed from transparent to gray, from gray to black, from black to...
Dark red.
Like coagulated blood.
There was a smell in the air, not rotten or burnt, but a deeper, heavier smell.
It seems to have surged up from the deepest part of the earth, carrying the smell of rust and dust.
Everyone's breathing stopped for a moment.
The dark red aura condensed, surged and rotated directly above Jūshirō Ukitake.
Then... a door appeared.
The door was big enough that ten people could walk in side by side.
Its edge is made of bones, white bones, intertwined one by one, like countless hands held together.
There are skeletons on the door frame, large and small, some with eyes closed, some with mouths open, and some with empty eye sockets facing downwards.
The door opened slowly.
Squeak...
The sound was deep, like a rusty iron door being pushed open, or like something moaning in the throat.
A dark red light shines through the crack in the door.
The light fell and shone on Jūshirō Ukitake's face, turning his pale face a strange red color.
Then, a hand stretched out from the door.
The hand was very long and white, as white as bone.
The five fingers were as thin as bamboo sticks. The nails were black and the tips were slightly curved. It did not hesitate and stabbed straight down.
Pfft...
The hand penetrated Jūshirō Ukitake's chest.
Without blood, a corpse will not bleed.
But that hand stirred in the chest, as if looking for something.
Then it was found.
It grabs something and pulls it out.
Chains poured out of the door.
Black Chains, densely packed one by one, came out from the crack in the door like a snake and wrapped around Jūshirō Ukitake's body.
Wrap around his arms, wrap around his legs, wrap around his waist, wrap around his neck.
Chains Tighten.
The body was slowly lifted off the stone platform and headed towards the door. "Let's go."
The voice of Yan Si sounded in the silence.
He took a step.
When your feet step on the air, there is no sound or trace.
The figure disappeared from the stone platform and appeared at the door of Gates of Hell the next second.
He didn't even look back and stepped straight in.
Dark red light engulfed his figure.
"Hahaha!"
Kenpachi Zaraki burst out laughing.
He carried Nozarashi on his shoulders and rushed out in large strides. A wave of air exploded under his feet, and his whole body shot toward the door like a cannonball.
"Wait a minute, I!"
Unohana Retsu followed him, her footsteps very light, as if she were stepping on the wind. Her braids were fluttering behind her, the corners of her mouth were slightly raised, and there was something burning in her eyes.
Chiziro Kenpachi didn't run, he just took a step and appeared at the door.
He looked back at Soul Society, and at the Shinigami who were standing, kneeling, and raising their heads.
Then turn back and walk through the door.
Aizen stood next to the stone platform, with his hands in his trouser pockets, his head raised, looking at the skull door.
His seal has been broken.
Behind him, Kaname Tōsen stood silently, his hand on his Zanpakutō.
Nelliel stood behind Kaname Tōsen, his green hair fluttering in the wind, and the goat horn mask on his head glowed strangely in the dark red light.
Ulquiorra's face was expressionless, only the green light in his left eye was flickering.
Ilfort hugged his shoulders and raised his head, not knowing what he was intoxicated with.
Aizen watched it for three seconds.
"Interesting." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
"It is indeed a power I have never seen before."
Then he took a step towards the door.
The pace is neither fast nor slow, just like walking in your own yard.
Kaname Tōsen and three Espada followed him and filed in.
Next to the stone platform, Nobles representatives stood in a pile.
Eleven people, all old men.
His hair is gray, his face is wrinkled, and the crutch in his hand is shaking.
It's not the wind blowing, it's the shaking hands.
The smell coming from that door is terrible.
That was not Reiatsu, not murderous intent, but something more primitive and essential... death.
Pure irreversible, eternal death. They have lived too long, hundreds of years, thousands of years.
The older you get, the more you fear death.
This is the truth.
And now, they are going to walk through that door.
"Gulu."
Someone swallowed, and the sound was particularly clear in the quiet air.
No one moved.
No one takes that step.
"What?"
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's voice sounded from behind them. It wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it.
"Do you want me to give you a ride?"
He was holding Ryūjin Jakka. The blade was not unsheathed, but the wood at the end of the cane had cracked, revealing the dark red handle inside. The old man closed his eyes and had no expression on his face.
But everyone knew that he was not joking.
"Damn... Damn it!"
Kasumioji Clan's owner gritted his teeth and the wrinkles on his face were squeezed together.
He glanced at the door and then at Yamamoto.
If you go in, you might die.
Not going in...
If you don't go in, not only will you die, but your family will also be implicated.
The current Soul Society is no longer what it used to be.
Nobles Without the privileges and immunity, Central Court and the others are worried about finding a target to scare the monkeys.
He took a deep breath.
"Let's go!" He yelled, lowered his head, leaned on crutches, and rushed towards the door tremblingly.
The other old men looked at each other, gritted their teeth, and followed.
Each figure disappeared into the dark red light.
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto opened his eyes and watched their figures disappear behind the door.
Then he lowered his head and glanced at the stone platform at his feet.
Jūshirō Ukitake's body is no longer there.
The stone platform was empty, with only a few prayer flags still floating in the wind.
"Let's go."
He leaned on crutches and walked forward.
Sasakibe followed behind, Gonryōmaru had already been unsheathed, and golden arcs danced on the blade.
The two figures were submerged in the dark red light and disappeared behind the door.
Hill of the Twin Executions The wind has stopped.
The light curtain was removed, and the setting sun shone from the west, dyeing the entire mountain top golden.
Kyōraku Shunsui stood there, holding the bamboo hat in his hand and pressing it on his chest.
He looked at the Gates of Hell door that was slowly closing, and at the figures that had disappeared behind the door.
Standing for a long time.
"I wish you all good luck in martial arts."
His voice was very soft, blown away by the wind, and drifted into the distance.
No one responded.
Only that door slowly closed in the dark red light.
Squeak...
The voice was deep, like a sigh.
Then, it disappeared. The sky returned to its normal color.
Sunset, clouds, evening breeze.
It's like nothing happened.
Kyōraku Shunsui put the hat on his head, keeping the brim very low.
He turned around and walked down the mountain.
Footsteps sounded on the stone slabs, tap, tap, tap.
One click, one click.
Very stable.
He took a few steps, stopped, and turned his head.
"Do you think they will come back?"
There is no one behind you.
Only the wind. Kyōraku smiled, turned back, and continued walking.
"Yes."
He seemed to be answering someone, but also seemed to be talking to himself.
The moment Yan Si stepped into Gates of Hell, the world changed.
The light disappeared from behind, as if it was swallowed by something.
It doesn't dim slowly, but "pops", like a candle being snuffed out, like a light being turned off.
One second you can still see the sunset of Hill of the Twin Executions, and the next second there is only one color left in front of you... red.
Dark red.
It's not the bright red of blood, but a deeper, darker, older red.
Like blood stains that have dried for thousands of years, like rust that has been burned by fire, like the residue left after the last ray of light at dusk is crushed.
I stepped on something under my feet. It was not as hard as stone slabs, nor as soft as sand, but an indescribable texture.
It's like stepping on ashes or broken bones. Every step will sink a little and make a subtle clicking sound.
Yan Si glanced down.
The red sand, as fine as flour, spreads out in all directions from under your feet, extending to the end of your sight.
The sand is littered with rocks, with rugged black shapes, some like human ribs, some like broken swords, and some like twisted human faces.
Dead branches stick out from the sand, with no leaves or bark, just bare white branches, like skeletons that have been peeled off.
The wind is blowing.
It is not an ordinary wind, not cold, not hot, not dry, not wet.
But when it blew by, Yan Si felt like his soul had been scratched by something.
It's not pain, it's an indescribable discomfort, like someone is gently scraping your bones with their nails, or like something is peeking into the deepest fear in your heart.
He stretched out his hand and spread his fingers, feeling the flow of the wind.
The wind passed through the gaps between his fingers. It had no temperature or weight, but he could feel... it was taking something away. Little by little, like strands, like sand in an hourglass, like water leaking out from between the fingers.
"Can you absorb and utilize the power here?" Yan Si tilted his head, his voice was not high, but it could be heard far in the empty red desert.
Aizen stood beside him, with his hands in his trouser pockets, his head raised, looking at the dark red sky without stars above his head.
"No." Aizen's voice was calm, even with a hint of interest, "This power... is really strange."
He stretched out his hand with his fingers spread wide, palm facing up.
The red sand fell on his palm, there was no Spiritual Power fluctuation, no Reishi reaction, it just lay quietly.
Aizen's fingers tightened slightly, trying to extract the power from the sand.
Nothing happened.
The grains of sand are still grains of sand, unchanged, not dissipated, not absorbed by him.
Aizen's brow moved slightly, which was a rare gaffe.
"Interesting."
He turned his hand over, and the sand grains slipped from his palm and fell to the ground. They were mixed with the surrounding sand and could no longer be distinguished. Yan Si also tried it.
He unfolded his Reishi perception, seeping into the sand beneath his feet, extending into the air, and spreading toward the dark red sky above his head.
No reply, no feedback.
It's like pouring water into the desert, like shouting into the void.
Every grain of sand, every stone, every gust of wind here contains a kind of power.
But that power was completely different from Reishi, not anything he was familiar with.
It is thicker and heavier, with an indescribable "weight"... not a physical weight, but a spiritual weight.
It was like there was something pressing on my chest, not heavy, but always there.
"It seems," Aizen put his hands back into his trouser pockets and raised the corners of his mouth slightly, "If we fight here, there is no way to reply."
Yan Si nodded.
Shinigami's battle is Reiatsu's war of attrition.
When the Spiritual Power is exhausted, use the Zanpakutō. When the Zanpakutō fails, use the Kidō. When the Kidō is also used up, the only option is to rely on your fists.
No matter how you fight, as long as you still have breath, Reishi will replenish it from the environment and slowly recover.
But there is no Reishi.
In other words, the "Reishi" here is not something they can use.
"We are fine." Yan Si glanced at the team behind him.
Kenpachi Zaraki was carrying Nozarashi, grinning, looking around, his eyes full of excitement.
He was probably looking for something to hit.
Unohana Retsu stood a few steps behind him, with his hands folded in front of him and a gentle smile on his face.
But her eyes kept staring at the pile of rocks in the distance, as if looking at something.
Chiziro Kenpachi walked at the back of the team, not looking at anyone or in any direction.
His steps were so light that there was almost no sound on the sand.
Amatsuyu Takuru didn't know when, but she had melted into the surrounding air. She couldn't see it, but her presence could be felt. Espada behind Aizen also stood firm.
Nelliel's green hair was fluttering in the dark red wind, and the goat horn mask on his head glowed dimly.
Ulquiorra's face was expressionless, only the green light in his left eye was flickering.
Ilfort hugged his shoulders and raised his head. He didn't know what he was intoxicated about, but his feet were firmly planted.
Kaname Tōsen stood beside Aizen, with his hand on his Zanpakutō and his face facing forward. Although he could not see, he was listening and sensing.
"Where are they?" Yan Si looked towards the middle of the team.
Nobles representatives stood in a pile.
One of them looked wrong.
What's that old man's last name?
Yan Si thought about it for a while, but didn't remember it.
Not important.
The important thing is that there are patterns on his face. They are not tattoos, not scars, but patterns.
It starts from the cheekbones and spreads around, like tree roots, like blood vessels, like something crawling under the skin.
The color of the pattern is black, very deep and thick, almost invisible under the dark red light, but if you look closely you can see... it is moving.
Climbing slowly, bit by bit, towards the heart.
"What's wrong with you!" When the owner of the Kasumioji Clan found out, his voice changed. He pointed his crutch at the old man's face and his fingers were shaking.
The old man lowered his head and looked at his hands.
There are also patterns on the back of my hands.
The black ones are densely packed, like spider webs.
"I just... tried to absorb the power in the sand..." His voice was broken, as if squeezed out from the depths of his throat, "The... power here... is very strong... I want... to try..."
The words are not finished yet.
His eyes widened suddenly.
The whites of the eyes were covered with bloodshot eyes, one by one, like red earthworms crawling on the eyeballs. The pupils changed from black to red, from red to black, from black to... nothing.
Hollow.
Like two dug out eye sockets, like two dry wells.
"Ah!"
He let out a scream, whipped out the Zanpakuto from his waist with his right hand, and slashed at the person next to him.
The blade was very fast, creating a dark red arc.
"You're crazy!" The person next to him screamed and ran away. The blade grazed his ear and cut off a strand of gray hair.
Others also moved.
Nine people, nine swords, shot at the same time.
The old man was pushed to the ground, his face buried in the sand, and he made a "ho ho" sound from his mouth, like a wild beast and a mad dog.
His body was twitching, his limbs were kicking around, and his nails dug deep grooves on the ground.
"Hey! What's wrong with you!" Xia Dalu squatted down and tried to hold down his head. The old man's neck suddenly turned 180 degrees.
Click.
The sound of bones was very brittle and could be heard far in the open desert.
He raised his face, looked at Xia Dalu who was squatting in front of him, and opened his mouth.
A mouthful of black mud spurted out of his throat.
It's not blood, it's mud.
Thick and dark, like mud dug out from deep underground, with a rotten sweet smell.
Black mud sprayed on Xia Dalu's face and on the four old men who were holding him down.
"What the hell!"
"This mud..."
"It's drilling into the body!"
People who were splashed by the black mud screamed. The mud seemed alive. It started to seep into the skin when it touched the skin. It didn't hurt or itch, but you could feel... something crawling under the skin, swimming in the blood vessels, and drilling into the seams of the bones.
The pattern spreads from the place where it was touched, spreads around, and crawls towards the heart.
One, two, three, four.
Four people, plus the first one, five.
The faces of the five people were all covered with black patterns, their eyes were becoming bloodshot, and their pupils were dilated.
"Do it."
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto's voice came from behind, not loud, but very clear.
Kenpachi Zaraki I have been waiting for this sentence for a long time.
His knife has been raised.
Nozarashi was as light as a chopstick in his hand, slashing it from left to right across the top of his head.
The bright white sword light shot out from the tip of the sword so fast that the trajectory was invisible.
Five heads flew up at the same time. The incision on the neck was neat and there was no blood.
Those headless bodies stood there for half a second, and then began to sink, as if they had stepped into quicksand, as if their ankles were being dragged down by something.
The sand is moving, like countless hands, grabbing the twitching bodies and pulling them down.
The five corpses were completely submerged in the red sand in less than three seconds.
Not even a trace was left, as if they never existed.
Kenpachi Zaraki put the knife back on his shoulder and curled his lips.
"What?" His voice was full of dissatisfaction, "You're not strong at all."
He originally thought that those old men could turn into powerful things after being polluted, so that he could enjoy being slashed twice.
As a result, the five heads were all dead with one blow.
So weak that it can't even be considered a warm-up.
The owner of the Kasumioji Clan stood there, the black mud on his face not yet wiped clean.
He stretched out his hand, wiped it on his face, and looked down at the black mucus on the back of his hand. It was evaporating, not being dried by the wind, but starting to fade from the edges, like ice cubes melting in hot water. It disappeared completely in a few seconds, leaving no trace.
But he knew that the thing had entered his body just now.
Although it was only a little bit, and although the pattern did not appear, he could feel... something in his body, like a hair sticking to his skin, it didn't hurt but was always there.
He raised his head and looked around.
The remaining people, including himself, were five.
Eleven people came in, and within ten minutes, only five were left.
They looked at each other, their eyes full of wariness.
It's not about being wary of the enemy, it's about being wary of each other.
Who knows if the old man just now was really contaminated because he tried to absorb power?
Who knows if the black mud spitting out was a coincidence or someone did it on purpose?
Who knows...
Their eyes invariably turned to the front of the team. People from Thirteen Court Guard Squads stood in front, with their backs to them.
Kenpachi Zaraki is holding the knife, Unohana Retsu is standing quietly, Chiziro Kenpachi has his eyes closed, Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto is leaning on a cane, Chōjirō Sasakibe is holding Gonryōmaru.
In front is Espada.
At the front are Aizen and Yan Si.
No one looked back at them.
No one cares about them.
Xia Dalu tightened his grip on his crutch, swallowed, and made no sound.
Yan Si withdrew his gaze and stopped looking at the movements of the old men behind him.
He raised his head and scanned the red desert.
The sky is very low, not because we are close, but because it feels like we are being pressed down.
The dark red clouds are thick, like coagulated blood clots, pressing low above the head, making people breathless.
There was no sun, no moon, and no stars. The light came from nowhere, and everything was dark red, as if soaked in blood.
There are mountains in the distance, black mountains with rugged outlines, like rows of erected blades, and like skeletons stuck upside down on the ground.
There are scattered rocks at the foot of the mountain, some as big as houses and as small as fists, each with a strange shape.
The wind is blowing, and the wind that blows into the soul never stops.
"How to explore?" Yan Si said softly.
He really didn't know how to start.
It's so big here, there are no directions, no signs, nothing to refer to.
Reishi Sensation is released, like a stone sinking into the sea, there is not even an echo.
He didn't know which way to go, what to look for, or even whether there was an end here.
"Oh yeah."
A voice came from a distance, not loud, but especially clear in the empty desert.
"You are finally here Hell, Genryūsai." Everyone paused in their movements, and then immediately entered a fighting state.
Kenpachi Zaraki Put the knife down from his shoulder, hold it with both hands, and press down slightly.
Unohana Retsu's eyes narrowed and his hand rested on the handle of the knife.
Chiziro Kenpachi opened his eyes, and the shadow on the cliff in the distance was reflected in his pupils.
Aizen didn't move, he just turned his head slightly and the curvature of the corners of his mouth became a little deeper.
Yan Si raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound.
About two thousand meters ahead, there is a black cliff.
The cliff is steep and as smooth as if it had been cut by a knife, with a huge platform at the top.
People are standing on the platform.
Not one, but a row.
Nine people lined up from left to right.
Their clothes are the same... black Shinigami uniform, white Haori, with Zanpakutō hanging on their waists. Standing there, everyone exudes an indescribable sense of oppression.
It's not Reiatsu, it's not murderous intent, it's something more essential.
Like a sword, like a sharp edge that has been sharpened for hundreds or thousands of years, standing there makes people feel tight on the skin and cold on the back of the neck.
The leader stands in the middle.
His hair was gray, very long, hanging down to his waist, and was tied randomly with a black rope. His eyes looked past everyone and landed on Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
"Long time no see."
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto walked out from behind the team, leaning on a cane.
His steps were slow and steady, stepping on the red sand.
He walked to the front of the team and stopped, raised his head, and looked at the row of black figures on the cliff for a long time.
"Ah." His voice was deep.
"Long time no see."
Chōjirō Sasakibe stood half a step behind him, holding Gonryōmaru tightly, and golden arcs of electricity danced on the blade. His eyes swept across the faces of the nine people on the cliff, one by one, from left to right, and from right to left.
Then he spoke softly, not loud enough for Yan Si to hear.
"The captains of First Generation Thirteen Court Guard Squads."
Yan Si's brows moved.
"First Generation?"
"Hmm." Sasakibe's eyes did not leave the cliff, and his voice was very low, "The nine people over there are all captain First Generation of Thirteen Court Guard Squads."
He paused and tightened his fingers on Gonryōmaru.
"Be careful."
"They are strong."
The wind blew from the cliff, carrying red sand and hitting everyone's face.
Nine figures stood on the cliff, the hem of Shinigami uniform fluttering in the wind, like nine black flags.
Below, Three Realms's expeditionary force looked up at them. The dark red sky, black cliffs, and red sand.
The wind keeps blowing.
Blow into the bones, into the soul.