Relying on the enemy's nobility, isn't that more shameless?

"You, you!" Fuzi gasped for air, wishing he could tear Diezuka Hiroe to pieces right before his eyes. "How could you people do this!"

Hiroe acted as if he had heard a joke, laughing so hard he could barely stand. He pointed at himself, trembling as he spoke: "Why couldn't we? You're the one who said we're marching toward extinction step by step, so why not allow us a moment of madness?"

"You wouldn't! I don't believe you want to see the throne left empty!"

"Whether you believe it or not is your freedom, but whether we act or not depends on us!" Hiroe finished and crouched down, his eyes behind his sunglasses filled with mockery as he looked at Fuzi's indignant face. "Make your choice, Fuzi. You can go out in a blaze of glory, like a god! It's just that no one will ever know, but I'm sure noble Quincy wouldn't care about such trifles, right? Your kin will praise you once they find out!"

Fuzi stopped cursing. With his mouth agape, he threw his body forward with a violent lunge; at this moment, he truly loathed this young man before him.

Hiroe was no weakling. He leaned back with the momentum, narrowly dodging the lunging Fuzi, then followed up with a backflip. He landed a few paces away, watching Fuzi struggle and writhe on the ground like a caterpillar, his face full of smiles.

"It seems there really is no god in this world, and there's no real difference between you and us—if anything, you're even more shameless." Hiroe said, strolling slowly over to Fuzi. With a flick and a stomp of his toe, he forced the prone Fuzi back into a sitting position. "You speak with such righteous indignation, yet you pin your life on the mercy of the very 'shameless existence' you just railed against. Tell me, Fuzi, who is the more shameless one?"

"And as for your regrets about not killing me? Don't make me laugh!" Hiroe said, pressing down harder with his foot, his emotions surging as he shouted: "Back at the Plain of Slaughter, those arrows were actually aimed at me, weren't they? And in the Fujiang District, those assassins knew my every move! That was your doing too, wasn't it? Fu! Zi!!"

"So get this straight: the only reason you're still alive is because I'm honoring our friendship! If we're talking about the greatest shame of a lifetime, that's my line! You? You aren't worthy!"

Fuzi's face turned ghastly. The other man was absolutely right. The coordinated attack on the Gillian at the Plain of Slaughter was a test; if Hiroe had been injured then, their next move would have been to eliminate every Soul Reaper present.

The assassination in the Fujiang District was even more direct, though he had indeed softened his heart and refrained from participating directly. But looking at it now, everything had been under Hiroe's watchful eye; even if he had struck, the result would have been the same.

And as for pinning his hopes on the mercy—or rather, the rationality—of an enemy, he truly had no right to criticize Hiroe. Fuzi wondered, when exactly had he become like this? Perhaps it was after coming to the Soul Society, or perhaps he had always been a cold person at his core; otherwise, he wouldn't have chosen to come to the Soul Society so early.

But regardless, he had become this kind of person—someone not much different from the Soul Reapers he despised! No, there was a difference: they still had dreams, an ideal, perfect kingdom! This was fundamentally different from Soul Reapers who were satisfied with the status quo. If one wanted to break through the mud, one had to be prepared to get dirty. Hadn't he realized that the moment he stepped into the Soul Society?

"You're right, we are indeed doing dirty work." Fuzi let out a heavy breath and lifted his head again, feeling a sense of relief he had never known before. "Friendship and stance—our choices are the same, aren't they, Hiroe?"

Hiroe curled his lip and made a "tsk" sound, his expression one of stubborn refusal to admit it. Seeing this, Fuzi asked with a playful tone: "So what will you do now? Giving things away is useless, and false threats are equally useless—and of course, even if they were real, they'd still be useless. Just as you said, I don't commit suicide because I know I can't actually die. But what about you? Don't you know that trying to make me betray my own kin is a fool's errand?"

"Of course I know!"

The ostensible purpose of coming here today was to persuade Fuzi to betray the Quincy in the living world. Yamamoto and the others said he had many tricks up his sleeve, so they sent him here to give it a try.

But even tricks depend on the situation. They had been interrogating him for so long; if there were any weak-willed or dim-witted people, they would have succeeded long ago. Unless Diezuka Hiroe was a hypnotist who could make the opponent believe they were a mole for the Soul Reapers! But was he a hypnotist? No! The Soul Society didn't even have such a profession!

If Old Man Yama were here right now, he'd probably give Hiroe a good thrashing! Wasn't it Hiroe himself who kept requesting to visit the prisoner? The old man just felt his disciple was taking things too lightly and wanted him to come here to be humbled.

Yes, it was Hiroe's own request to see Fuzi. Of course, his intention wasn't to carry out Yamamoto's absurdly ridiculous persuasion mission, but rather to pursue his own agenda—his own little secret.

"I understand. As long as we remain committed to the total extermination of you Quincy, no matter what price is offered, you—or rather, all of you—will never be swayed."

"You catch on fast, heh heh heh!" Fuzi chuckled mockingly.

"Why don't you hear me out first?" Hiroe didn't mind the mockery and continued with a smile: "We could actually conduct a transaction as equals."

Seeing Fuzi about to speak, Hiroe raised a hand to interrupt him. "I understand. The previous interrogations were also a kind of transaction, it's just that you didn't have anything worth our price. Or perhaps in your eyes, we didn't have anything that could satisfy you. Of course, none of that matters."

"Still not giving up?" Fuzi leaned back, his voice drifting from deep within his throat. "Let me go, Hiroe~. Hearing jokes for too long is quite distressing, so please, spare me~"

"I gave up on that a long time ago, but you need to pay attention to what I'm saying." Hiroe walked behind Fuzi, looked down at his slightly upturned eyes, and smiled. "Didn't I tell you we should use a more equal status? When the status changes, the content of the transaction changes too! So, please have some consideration for me—telling too many jokes is actually quite distressing."

"What do you mean?!"

The familiar smiling face above him suddenly vanished. Fuzi shouted, twisting his body left and right, trying to locate Hiroe again.

Hiroe didn't make him search for long. Soon, Fuzi saw him walking backward from the left side, step by step, back into his field of vision, where he stopped and stood with his feet together.

"Interested yet?"

"Tell me! What the hell do you mean!" Fuzi roared. He had guessed a possibility from Hiroe's words, and he was sick of this damn teasing.

"Calm down, Fuzi!" Hiroe pressed his right hand downward. But it was clearly useless; Fuzi's emotions were even more agitated, the veins on his neck bulging, looking utterly frantic. "Stop the damn nonsense!"

"Fine, fine! Fine!!" Hiroe picked at his ear and replied slowly, "The new transaction: my bargaining chip is the lives of the Quincy—not just yours, but those in the living world and all the Quincy who might be born in the future!"

"And you! All you have to do is tell me where Yhwach is!"

"How about it?" Hiroe looked at Fuzi, who was gasping for air with wide, staring eyes, and asked solemnly: "This is a transaction we can both accept, right?"