A Fierce Battle a Thousand Years Later
The charred blade traced a simple arc in mid-air.
Fifteen million degrees of heat are condensed into a mere millimeter of the blade's tip.
Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryūsai stepped forward, his body slightly lowered, and the broken blade in his hand slashed diagonally upwards.
Basic Kendo, reversed kasaya.
This basic movement, which could hardly be called a technique, carried an unparalleled weight and solemnity when wielded by the old man.
Yhwach swung his hand down on the pure white broadsword, and thick black sludge gushed from the hilt, meeting the slender tip of the blade.
Laugh!
Like a red-hot iron probing into snow, the black liquid silently disintegrated the moment it touched the tip of the blade.
The invisible high temperature cut a smooth notch into the spine of the broadsword, causing the sword's momentum to be deflected outward by half an inch.
Yamamoto remained expressionless, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the charred hilt of the sword rotated clockwise.
Use the opponent's strength to deflect their attack, and seize the opportunity to strike.
Using the momentum of the opponent's sword strike, the Zanka no Tachi pressed down, transforming into a sharp, straight slash that cut directly towards Yhwach's neck.
Yhwach stepped back half a step, his left hand making a grasping motion, and several holy light blades suddenly shot out from his fingertips.
Yamamoto did not swing his sword to block the light blade.
The old man's tattered Zanjitsu Gokui shimmered with a faint, tangible golden light.
When the light blade touched the void three inches away from the halo, it was like dew falling into boiling oil, instantly vaporized by the extreme heat.
The Yamamoto kept moving, the wooden clogs beneath its feet crushing the lava surface, relentlessly pressing forward against the retreating shadows.
"The way of the sword is not simply a collection of complicated moves."
Yamamoto's single eye shone like a torch, and his deep voice echoed in the scorching void.
As the words were spoken, the charred, broken blade spun three times in mid-air.
Horizontal slash, backhand flick, thrust.
The three most basic movements were connected smoothly and seamlessly, with no hesitation between fast and slow transitions.
Each strike landed precisely on the brief opening created by Yhwach's shifting movements.
A sinister glint flashed in Yhwach's eyes as he reconstructed the Reishi broadsword in his hand, holding it horizontally to block his vital points.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A series of crisp, metallic clangs rang out.
Yhwach blocked the first two slashes, but the third thrust, aimed straight for his throat, slid across the inside of the blade at an odd angle.
The intense heat from the blade instantly incinerated the collar of the Obsidian robe.
Even someone as powerful as the Quincy was at a disadvantage in close combat when faced with this refined swordsmanship that had been honed over a thousand years.
Yhwach sneered, "The skills of mortals, no matter how many times they are refined, are nothing more than going in circles."
Yhwach pushed out with his left palm, and the black swamp beneath his feet transformed into countless sharp black spikes, bursting upwards and piercing through everything.
"If one has forgotten even the fundamentals of wielding a sword, how can one speak of reaching the summit?"
Yamamoto's long robe fluttered, he stomped one foot on the ground, and spun half a circle around himself.
The intense heat of the Zanjitsu Gokui radiated outwards as the body spun, like a rotating halo, instantly burning away all the incoming black rays.
Using the momentum gathered from his spin, the old man gripped the hilt of the knife with both hands and raised it overhead.
A slash down the center line, a cut through the robe.
A single, unadorned strike fell straight down from the void.
A cracked scorch mark appeared in the void along the path of the blade.
Yhwach raised his broadsword to parry the blow.
Boom!
The immense force shattered the lava beneath their feet, creating a crater hundreds of feet deep.
Yhwach's Obsidian armor peeled off inch by inch, and a large blank space was evaporated from the mud beneath his feet.
The indifference on the man's face was finally replaced by a dark cloud.
He can see the Future and rewrite the predetermined ending.
But in every existing moment of confrontation, the old man's sword-wielding trajectory was so precise that no flaw could be found.
A thousand years of killing and immersion had made Yamamoto's body instinctively eliminate all unnecessary movements.
Every exertion of force, every step movement, was perfectly controlled at the balance point between power and speed.
Yhwach swung his arm to deflect the blade, then thrust his broadsword horizontally toward Yamamoto's right rib.
Yamamoto sidestepped half an inch, the back of his blade sliding smoothly along the broadsword, making a grating scraping sound.
Using the momentum of the blade, close-range strangle the opponent.
The broken blade slid rapidly forward along the sword, slicing straight at Yhwach's right hand, which was gripping the sword.
Yhwach could only loosen his grip on the sword hilt, withdraw his hand, and retreat several steps.
The pure white broadsword then turned into fragments of Reishi that scattered into the air.
Yamamoto did not stop to pursue, but steadily sheathed his sword at his waist, the tip of the blade slightly lowered, assuming the most orthodox Zanshin defensive stance.
Huff, huff.
The old man's chest rose and fell slightly, and the sweat on his body evaporated into white mist the moment it appeared.
Maintaining Bankai at 15 million degrees Celsius places an unimaginable burden on this aged and frail body.
But in that single, half-open eye, the fighting spirit burned ever brighter and clearer.
"What's wrong, Yhwach?"
Yamamoto gripped the charred short blade and said in a deep voice, "Having absorbed the Soul King's Source, is this all the sword you wield?"
Yhwach stopped ten paces away, the black mist in his eyes swirling slowly like an abyss.
A strange, mocking smile slowly appeared on that dignified and cold face.
"Truly admirable swordsmanship, Shigekuni Yamamoto."
Yhwach spread his right hand, and a longer, more slender Reishi greatsword, its entire body wrapped in a jet-black causal fluid, materialized in his palm.
"In a pure contest of skill, even I, a thousand years ago, must admit that you have truly reached the pinnacle."
Yhwach took a step, and with each step, an invisible hum echoed in the air.
"But you never truly understand that the skills you've honed, the principles you've upheld, are nothing more than chains used by ordinary people to comfort themselves."
Yhwach raised his Long Sword, the tip pointing directly at the old man in front of him.
"Within the power that transcends all, all skills, reactions, flaws, and responses are merely a painting already completed on a blank sheet of paper."
Yamamoto scoffed, "Arrogant."
The old man's steps faltered, his entire body transforming into a rushing golden streak of light, as he thrust his Zanka no Tachi forward once more.
This strike brought together all the strength he had in his body.
The power of the Zanka no Tachi - East - Kyokujitsujin was pushed to its peak, and even the space in front of the blade tip visibly collapsed.
No matter how bizarre the opponent's methods may be, as long as they are completely annihilated with absolute speed and extreme heat, all illusions will naturally dissipate.
The charred tip of the knife pierced straight towards Yhwach's chest.
However, faced with this attack that was powerful enough to evaporate the heavens and earth, Yhwach did not even make any move to block or dodge.
The man stood still, the approaching broken blade reflected in his multiple pupils, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"I've seen through it, Shigekuni Yamamoto."
Yhwach uttered calmly in a whisper, "In the predetermined Future, your sword has already lost its aim."
Click.
A clear, crisp cracking sound suddenly rang out in the air.
Yamamoto's pupils suddenly contracted.
He clearly felt that his outstretched arm and the blade inexplicably deflected slightly in the unobstructed space.
This wasn't because I accidentally chopped it off.
Rather, it was the Future trajectory that space carried that was forcibly reversed and reorganized in that instant.
The Kyokujitsujin, which was originally enough to completely annihilate Yhwach, grazed the outside of the man's black robe and struck the ruins of the sky behind him.
Boom!
A scorched, thousand-foot-long gash was torn open in the sky, and Reishi Storm from the void poured out wildly.
But Yhwach's body was intact.
The old man's body leaned forward from the all-out thrust, and the light of the Zanjitsu Gokui momentarily dimmed and weakened after the full-force burst.
In that moment of utmost lapse in vigilance, a divine light, interwoven with darkness and holiness, quietly emerged.
The Reishi Greatsword, a blend of pure white and ink, is like a predetermined law that transcends cause and effect, piercing straight through the void.
Pfft!
The sharp blade pierced precisely through the old man's thin Captain's Haori, entering from his chest and exiting from his back.