Yan Si was sitting cross-legged in the center of the cave, with an unusually solemn look on his face, and his brows were slightly furrowed.
What made him feel stressed was not the writing of Kuchiki Kyōka's past experience itself.
Those facts have a clear context and can be completed with a little literary polish. It is not a difficult problem.
What really made him feel dignified, and even required him to come to this absolutely secret place before he dared to try it, was his decision to take an unplanned adventure.
Whether it was the signs of civil strife in Nobles revealed from Kuchiki Ginrei's conversations with several captains, or Aizen's seemingly gentle but pressing invitation to "give Shikai guidance."
It made him clearly realize that with his current meager Fifth-level Spiritual Pressure strength, he would be a little reluctant to even protect himself in the upcoming storm.
Strength, only if you are strong enough can you have a choice in the changing situation of Future, instead of following the crowd or becoming a pawn at the mercy of others on other people's chessboards.
Therefore, regarding the story of Kuchiki Kyōka, he does not intend to stop at recording and beautifying the "past" like he did with "Lan Chuan" or "Shu Hua".
He was ready to... try to touch something more dangerous, but also something that might bring greater power.
Yan Si stood up slowly, holding the blank stack of paper tightly with his left hand, and stretched his right hand towards his waist.
Hold the handle of the knife and pull it out.
The ancient Zanpakuto exudes a slight warmth in the palm of the hand.
His lips opened slightly, and his voice echoed clearly in the empty cave:
"Write it, Tsuzurimono Bansho."
The Zanpakutō in his hand disappeared, and a simple writing brush with a moist body and a tip that shimmered with a changing Reishi light appeared.
The moment the brush took shape, Reiatsu all over Yan Si exploded!
In the calm cave, the invisible Spiritual Power began to rotate crazily, forming a light blue vortex visible to the naked eye with him as the center.
The air was stirred, making a low roar, and the fine dust and gravel on the ground were picked up, suspended and fluttering.
Yan Si stood in the center of the eye of the storm Spiritual Power, his body as steady as a rock.
His right hand holds the brush made of "Tsuzurimono Bansho" tightly, and the tip of the pen is pointed at the paper pressed by his left hand.
The Spiritual Power in the body is rising at an unprecedented speed, rushing towards a certain limit.
He could feel that Spirit Particle Circuit was heating up, his blood was flowing faster, and even his soul was trembling slightly because of the surge of power.
That's it now!
When Spiritual Power climbed to the top, Yan Si's eyes flashed, and his right wrist suddenly pressed down.
It's not writing, it's more like the gesture of cutting off!
The tip of the pen touches the paper.
There is no ink, only the highly condensed Reiatsu turned into invisible marks, accompanied by the words flowing from his heart, deeply imprinted on the paper:
<string prison>
One·Stage string
When the badge of Kuchiki family
Ribbon hanging down to form a marriage letter
I use civilian fingerprints
Iron the notch in the Nobles pedigree
In the eyes of the princess
Reflecting the unforged blade
And the arc of our love
Just stretched
Seireitei The most dangerous string
The moment the words were completed, the paper moved on its own without any wind, trembling slightly, with a dark golden shimmer flowing on the surface, as if it had been given some kind of living quality.
Yan Si didn't stop.
The blood on his face faded a little, beads of sweat oozed from his forehead, but the hand holding the pen became more stable.
Instead of calming down, the Spiritual Power vortex around me became even more violent!
The suction force suddenly increased, and the gravel on the ground was rolled up into pieces, turning into a miniature tornado surrounding him!
He is overdrafting and squeezing, pushing the ability of "Tsuzurimono Bansho" into a more ambiguous and dangerous realm.
It is not just about recording or modifying "what has happened", but trying to outline what "has not happened", a poem based on existing clues and possibilities..."Future Poetry".
The pen tip was raised again, condensing all the concentration and Spiritual Power he could mobilize at the moment, and "cut" towards the paper for the second time!
Second: Mirror Rebellion
When the entire Seireitei
Start gargling with my reflection
Every mirror grows
Knife cocoon of different shades
Someone saw the puppet dancing
Dancers were seen strangled
Thread-lifter's palm print
The last stroke has fallen.
"Buzz!"
The soft sound of the pen tip echoed in the cave.
Almost at the same time, the violent Spiritual Power vortex around Yan Si instantly collapsed, and the rolled up gravel fell to the ground.
"Cough, cough, cough!"
Yan Si suddenly bent over and coughed violently. Every cough seemed to affect his internal organs.
His throat felt sweet, and a pool of bright red blood spurted out of his mouth uncontrollably, splashing on the cold ground and leaving dazzling traces.
His legs weakened and he could no longer hold up, and he collapsed to the ground with a "plop".
His left hand subconsciously covered his heart tightly, and there were sharp and severe pains. His forehead was instantly covered with cold sweat, and his teeth were clenching.
He tightly suppressed the backlash pain that originated from the depths of his spiritual body, breathing heavily, which seemed particularly clear in the silent cave.
After a long while, the tearing pain slowly receded like a tide, leaving only a long dull pain and a lingering feeling of weakness.
Yan Si slowly released the hand covering his chest, his fingertips still trembling a little.
He lowered his head and looked at the paper in his left hand that contained "Future Poem".
The dark golden light on the paper has been restrained, but the writing seems to have weight, pressing heavily on the paper.
Unexpectedly... just using this vague metaphorical form of "poetry" to try to outline the Future that Kuchiki Kyōka might go towards, almost caused my spiritual body to be damaged and I vomited blood and fell to the ground!
Moreover, he could feel that the time range covered by this "Future poem" was not far away, and at most it covered things that might happen in the past few years.
Its clarity and certainty are greatly reduced, and it is more like a warning fragment of a prophecy than an exact script.
Kuchiki Kyōka is certainly not weak in strength, but its strength relies more on the special and tricky ability of the Zanpakuto "Muramasa".
His own Spiritual Pressure Level is estimated to be at the mid-range level of Captain-level, probably hovering in the mid-to-lower reaches of Third-Class Spiritual Pressure.
Just describing this level Shinigami was vague for a short time Future, and I made myself pay such a price.
Then, the strength of Aizen Sōsuke and Unohana Retsu is unfathomable, and Spiritual Pressure Level is probably extremely high...
At this stage, I can't even think of trying it!
If you force yourself to write it, I'm afraid it will be drained Spiritual Power in an instant, or even your spiritual body will collapse.
Yan Si struggled to stand up, folded the first draft with "String Prison" written on it, and put it away close to his body.
During the movement, the muscles in the chest and arms were still aching.
The reason why he took the risk to write "Future" was not just to add depth to the story of Kuchiki Kyōka.
The purpose is to test the boundaries of "Tsuzurimono Bansho"'s ability and understand its own limits more clearly.
Now it seems that with his current total amount of Reiatsu and the degree of control over "Tsuzurimono Bansho", the possibility of vaguely touching nearly Future in the form of "poetry" is already an extreme operation.
If he wants to write Future more clearly, he will probably use up all his Spiritual Power and fall into an extremely dangerous state.
Ultimately, the foundation is still too thin.
The total amount of Spiritual Pressure Level, Spiritual Power, and the understanding of the nature of one's own strength... all need to be further improved.
He stood quietly in the center of the cave for a long time, feeling the slowly recovering Spiritual Power in his body and the clear feeling of weakness.
The moonstone-like dome sheds constant light, illuminating his slightly pale face.
Finally, he gently exhaled the turbid air that smelled of blood, turned around, and walked towards the entrance of the cave.
The "Tsuzurimono Bansho" in his hand has long since returned to the form of a Zanpakutō, hanging quietly on his waist.
Only after trying some roads do you realize how difficult it is and that you must walk it.