Chapter 292: The Wicked Live Thousand Years
"Uh..."
Hearing Satoru's response, the Monk was momentarily taken aback.
Then, he shook his head with a laugh.
"Alright then, come on in."
Saying this, he opened the door and entered inside.
Satoru followed after him.
Hyōsube Ichibe'e's dojo shared a similar style with Yamamoto's—both were of that ancient type.
If forced to compare, Yamamoto's leaned more Japanese, while the Monk's carried a hint of Chinese flavor.
"Come, find a place to sit anywhere. I don't like using stools—usually just sit directly on the floor."
The Monk swayed his body and plopped down cross-legged on the spot.
After Satoru also sat down, he grinned and said:
"Let me guess... before you came here, quite a few people probably told you to be careful, right?"
"Like, don't say things you shouldn't say, don't do things you shouldn't do... that sort of thing?"
"Yes."
Satoru nodded. "Shigekuni, do you think what they said is right?"
The Monk took half a second to react before remembering the inside joke about "Shigekuni."
He grinned. "Yes, and no."
"Satoru, I've lived a very long time—longer than you can possibly imagine."
"For humans, Shinigami who can live for hundreds or even thousands of years represent a terrifying gap."
"But I have lived for millions of years!"
"Even your teacher, Yamamoto Shigekuni, is but a tiny ripple in the long river of history to me."
"To me, this long river is important, but a single ripple or a few drops of water within it mean nothing."
"Add a few drops, and the river remains a river. Subtract a few drops, and it's still a river."
"No matter a person's temperament—whether they're hot-tempered or steady—they wouldn't vent their frustrations on a few drops of water in the river."
"So, even Yamamoto Shigekuni, even the captains of the Zero Division, only understand me on a superficial level. It's not surprising they'd caution you like this."
"This is merely the conclusion they've drawn by trying to understand me based on the parts they can comprehend."
Satoru raised an eyebrow.
"From what you're saying, it sounds like you don't intend to treat even your colleagues in the Zero Division as equals?"
The Monk shook his head.
"Treating others as equals is a false premise in itself."
"In the Zero Division, aside from me, Ōetsu is the oldest, so naturally, we have more common topics to discuss."
"The others have been in the division for no more than a thousand years at most."
"Even if I wanted to sit and chat with them every day, would there be that much to talk about?"
"To put it in terms you can understand: if you have a teenager, even if you love them, at most, you'd occasionally play with them and chat about the trivialities of their life."
"But if you tried to discuss your own experiences, your thoughts, your understanding of power, or the new techniques you want to develop... how much of it would they truly grasp?"
"The more and longer you interact, the more you'd naturally reduce your conversations with them."
"This isn't because you 'discriminate' against them, but simply because it's unnecessary."
"That's the attitude I hold toward those younger members and toward you Shinigami."
Hearing this, Satoru frowned and fell into deep thought.
In his own daily life, he didn't really feel this way.
When he spent time chatting with Aizen or Kisuke Urahara, it always felt sincere, and they could talk for as long as they wanted.
On the contrary, it was Sōsuke who always slipped away after a few casual words.
Wait... Could it be that they felt talking to him was like talking to a child?
Ridiculous, how could that be?
He was the man with wisdom unparalleled in the Soul Society!
Satoru took a deep breath, suppressing the murderous intent he felt toward Kisuke Urahara, and looked at the Monk.
"Go on."
"Ah, yes."
The Monk was slightly taken aback but nodded.
Was it just his imagination, or had Satoru exuded an astonishing killing intent just now?
Was there something in what he'd said that could provoke such anger?
He crossed his arms.
"...In short, my point is simple: I don't want to involve myself too much in most of the world's affairs."
"All kinds of experiences, all kinds of emotions—I'd already experienced most of them within the first ten thousand years of my life."
"The following million-plus years have just been repetitions of that first ten thousand years."
"Even the most ardent lover of life would have long grown weary of it."
"For this old man, only two things remain worth rousing my spirits and moving my limbs."
"First, someone attempting to shake the foundation of this world—the Soul King."
"Second, someone who, though not necessarily intending to do so, possesses the capability."
"Satoru, you currently fall into the second category."
"I won't speak in riddles with you—I'll tell you directly."
He extended a thick finger, pointing at Satoru.
"Satoru, within you, there are at least two powers whose depths I cannot fathom."
"Do you know what this means?"
Upon hearing this, Satoru was momentarily stunned.
Two?
He was aware of one—the power of Shadow Strike.
Shadow Strike was formed from the polluted entities cast outside the world by the Soul King when he traversed from beyond this world. Thus, it was natural that the Monk, born within this world, could not comprehend the power of Shadow Strike.
But where did the second one come from?
Detached Silence? The power of Gigai?
These were things that existed within this world—the Monk couldn't possibly be unaware of them.
Could it be... his own world-shaking intellect?
Satoru's eyes lit up.
Had someone in this world finally realized this?
As Satoru secretly rejoiced, the Monk continued:
"I am the one who names all things in this world. Normally, no ability in this world can remain hidden from me."
"Even powers whose users do not understand them or know their names—I can articulate them!"
"Therefore, you, who possess a power I cannot comprehend, are an extremely dangerous existence to this world..."
"If this were the me of hundreds of thousands of years ago, I would have already moved to erase you upon discovering this."
"But as I said earlier, I have grown weary of involving myself in every matter."
"So... Satoru, I ask you here and now."
"Do you harbor any ill intent toward the Soul King?"
The moment his words fell, a terrifying aura surged from the Monk.
Behind him, it was as if a malevolent demon had descended upon the world, its predatory eyes fixed fiercely upon the flesh before it.
Anyone facing such overwhelming pressure would inevitably feel intimidated and confess everything in their heart.
Yet, Satoru simply gazed calmly at the great monk before him.
Having come this far in the conversation, escape was no longer an option.
Outright denial and responding with lies might have been a solution.
But... regardless of the likelihood of success with such a method, even if he could truly deceive his way through, he would inevitably live under perpetual surveillance from then on.
At that point, what difference would there be between lies and the truth?
Moreover, in Aizen's ambitious blueprint, he had always placed himself at the forefront, in a leadership position.
Although his role as a leader was merely a front—deliberately pushed forward because Aizen disliked the spotlight—it was still proof of Aizen's trust in him.
If he cowered and backed down at such a moment, what right would he have to earn Aizen's recognition? What face would he have to stand before Aizen?
Under the monk's gaze, Satoru opened his collar, revealing the flame tattoo beneath.
He pressed his hand against it, using the restraint of the shadow-forged seal to temporarily suppress the flame emblem's ability to sense Reiatsu.
This way, the alarm mechanism Yamamoto had placed on him could not be activated.
After completing this, he looked at Hyōsube Ichibe'e and grinned.
"That's right, I intend to overthrow the Soul King."
"After that, I will... cough."
"I will become the Soul King, the one who stands above the heavens!"
"Whether it is all things in this world, whose existence and names are subject to your will, or that pitch-black aristocratic system, I will make them vanish completely from this world!"
Having said this, he stood up, flicked his Captain's Haori, and prepared for battle.
Yet he saw that the monk remained seated, watching him with an extremely peculiar expression.
The monk opened his mouth as if to say something.
Then, he revealed a strange smile.
"You wish to become the Soul King?"
"...Yes, is there a problem?"
"Well... how should I put it? There is definitely a problem, it's just... cough."
As he spoke, the monk slowly rose to his feet.
He rubbed his face, forcibly smoothing away the expression that threatened to turn into laughter.
With considerable effort, he finally regained a serious demeanor.
"Enough, enough. Since we've come this far, let's settle this with our skills!"
Saying this, he reached out to grab Satoru's shoulder.
Satoru shifted his posture, evading the grasp.
"Huh?"
Seeing his grab miss, the monk showed a look of surprise.
The next moment, his eyes widened like copper bells, and he lunged forward like a tiger unleashed, grabbing again!
Satoru instinctively retreated to dodge.
Yet he found that, despite moving a considerable distance, at the critical moment of evasion, the monk's fingertips still pressed against him.
Thwack!
The monk firmly grasped his shoulder, and a tremendous force surged through.
Satoru's vision blurred, and the next moment, he found himself no longer in the monk's dojo but on a mountain peak.
The monk released his grip, flashed away, and reappeared some distance off, standing opposite him.
"Come on, brat. Let this old man see how far Yamamoto Shigekuni's disciple can go against me!"
He grinned and beckoned to Satoru.
Gazing at the monk before him, Satoru frowned slightly.
It wasn't fear born from inferior strength.
Long before coming to the Soul King Palace, he had mentally prepared himself for the vast power gap between him and the Zero Division.
What truly puzzled him was the Monk's attitude.
Just now, when he admitted his intention to overthrow the Soul King, for a fleeting moment, he sensed an overwhelming, undisguised killing intent from the Monk.
Even an orphan protagonist in a web novel, upon encountering their father's killer, probably wouldn't exhibit such intense killing intent.
But immediately, the Monk's killing intent vanished.
Although a trace of hostility remained, the aggressiveness had diminished significantly.
It was as if... it had downgraded from the level of a sworn enemy to mere ordinary dislike for an unfamiliar criminal.
Where exactly had the conversation gone wrong?
Unable to pinpoint the issue at that moment, he simply memorized every word of their exchange verbatim.
If he managed to survive and see Aizen again, he'd leave it to him to figure out!
As for himself, his task was to find a way to stay alive and return!
Satoru's gaze sharpened, and he instantly charged toward the Monk, his fists drawn back like fully drawn bows—
Triple · Two Bones!!
Using Two Bones with both fists simultaneously, augmented by a third layer of force from his shadow strike.
Controlling six distinct flows of power at once—not one more, not one less. A hair's breadth of error would lead to a thousand-mile deviation!
BOOM!!!
A massive explosive shockwave erupted from the Monk's Zero Division Palace, violently spreading in all directions!
Nearly every corner of the Zero Division Palace simultaneously sensed the commotion.
"So it's come to this?!"
Senjumaru frowned.
As the second member to join the Zero Division, she still held deep affection for the Soul Society.
Witnessing Satoru and the Monk clash, she grew anxious.
Should she intervene?
Though she had never seen the Monk in action, intuition alone told her that guy was monstrously powerful.
Among the highest echelons of the Soul Society, a saying circulated:
The Zero Division's strength surpasses that of the entire Gotei 13.
In truth, that statement could be revised:
The Monk's strength alone surpasses the entire Gotei 13, plus all the remaining members of the Zero Division combined!
After all, even when facing Yamamoto Shigekuni, she had never felt so utterly crushed, so completely powerless to defy.
This wasn't merely a matter of strength—it was being overwhelmed at the very level of existence itself!
"What a fool! I've warned him to this extent, so why did it still come to this?!"
Shutara couldn't help but curse.
As she hesitated, she suddenly sensed another Reiatsu rushing toward the scene.
Kirio Hikifune!
Feeling the Reiatsu of her former subordinate, Shutara closed her eyes in anguish.
Fine, so be it. If they die, they die.
Having been transformed by the Soul King's power, even in death, there was still a chance of revival.
Provided the Monk allowed it.
Gritting her teeth and stamping her foot, Shutara burst out of her palace and raced toward the battlefield.
At Kirin Palace, the Shinigami with the pompadour hairstyle stood on the rooftop, staring dumbfounded in the direction of the Reiatsu fluctuations.
"That kid... is fighting the Monk?!"
"Isn't this the end?!"
"Will there even be a body left to collect?!"
Shinji stood nearby, fighting the urge to cover his ears.
Why did this guy have to be so loud?
Was he a fishmonger in his past life?
His eyes held a trace of astonishment.
On his very first day in the Soul King Palace, he had been secretly summoned by the Monk.
That night, the Monk met him and got straight to the point, asking directly:
"Captain Hirako, if there were someone in the Soul Society right now who would destroy it in the future, who do you think it would most likely be?"
Hearing this strange question, Shinji was momentarily taken aback.
Before he could respond, the Monk continued:
"Don't say such a person doesn't exist, or that you don't know... or anything like that."
"I only want to hear who you think it is."
Shinji frowned.
Who would destroy the Soul Society?
If they were talking about who had caused the most trouble in the Soul Society over the years, there was no doubt it was Satoru.
If they were talking about who had the ability to turn the Soul Society upside down, again, there was no doubt it was Satoru.
That guy's Eleventh Division was already inhumanly strong.
Not only were they terrifyingly powerful, but those little monsters' loyalty to Satoru was downright absurd.
He had no doubt that if Satoru ever raised the call to arms one day, all the officers of the Eleventh Division would follow him in a frenzied slaughter.
But... even so, he didn't think Satoru was the person the Monk was referring to.
After a long period of contemplation, he shook his head and said:
"Even if you tell me not to say it, this is the only answer I have."
"Such a person doesn't exist."
The Monk hummed in acknowledgment.
"Then, if the Soul Society must have such a person, and if no one fits the criteria, who would be the closest match in your opinion?"
What kind of strange questions were these?
Shinji's brow furrowed deeply.
The Monk comforted him in a timely manner: "No need to worry. Such baseless speculation is merely idle talk—it leaves your lips and enters my ears alone."
"Surely you don't think I would rush into the Soul Society to arrest someone based solely on your words?"
That was a fair point...
Shinji scratched his head.
The problem was, even so, he couldn't think of anyone.
Wait...
He suddenly froze.
A few seconds later, he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Destroying the Soul Society might be going too far... But if we're talking about someone who hides their true nature best, I do know one."
"My vice-captain, Sōsuke Aizen."
"If he had sufficient reason, he probably wouldn't have any psychological burden about destroying the Soul Society."
"However, I don't think he would have such extreme thoughts. After all, he does have a few friends around him."
Hearing Shinji's words, the Monk hummed and nodded.
"Understood... Then, after you return to the Soul Society, pay more attention to that vice-captain."
"Yes, and also keep an eye on Satoru while you're at it."
"Huh?"
Shinji showed an exasperated expression: "You don't actually think that kid Satoru would destroy the Soul Society, do you?"
The Monk wasn't angered by this nearly rude attitude, merely shaking his head gently:
"Not at all. This old man is asking you to pay attention to Satoru merely out of curiosity."
Though he didn't understand what this large monk was thinking, since it was just such a vague task with no specific requirements for completion, Shinji readily agreed.
Once he returned to the Soul Society, what could you do about how he handled it anyway?
Recalling that day's conversation, he couldn't help but feel puzzled.
This large monk clearly said it was just observation, so why did he suddenly take action?
He scratched his head.
Hopefully, the Captain-Commander has some backup plan...
...
...
Amid billowing dust, the Monk flew out.
He looked at his arm, surprise showing in his eyes.
Satoru's punch just now had actually made him feel pain for the first time in a long while.
It must be known that his bones and flesh had all been reinforced by the Soul King Power.
In other words, his entire body was composed of "Ōken"!
Such an invincible physical body had nearly had its arm broken by a single punch...
What kind of monster disciple had Yamamoto Shigekuni trained?
While pondering this, he saw Satoru charging out from the dust cloud after him.
Mid-air, Satoru's body was fully extended, as if trying to pump the power from within his body fiercely into his limbs.
At the moment of reaching the pumping limit, he suddenly threw a punch.
Evening Elephant!!
The wind pillar generated by the punch instantly rushed forward, enveloping the Monk.
Within the wind pillar, the Monk felt his movements hindered, his entire skin being ravaged.
"Ha!"
He spun around mid-air, palms pressed together.
With this movement, his Reiatsu violently erupted, instantly shattering the wind pillar that enveloped him.
But, just as the wind pillar shattered, two blades burning with blue flames and trailing long chains had somehow already reached his side.
"Oh... Using the wind pillar to obstruct vision while sending Rikujōkōrō over, huh?"
"Unfortunately, useless."
"All things whose names I know..."
While speaking loudly, the Monk brought his five fingers together and suddenly thrust out a palm.
A giant hand condensed from Reiatsu materialized in the air, slamming hard against Rikujōkōrō's blade.
The rapidly approaching blades were directly sent flying back by this slap.
"...Are as powerless as ants before me!!"
Having broken three of Satoru's moves in succession, the Monk stabilized his posture, standing in the air.
Watching Satoru retract Formless Nirvana by pulling back his arm not far away, he grinned, revealing a pitch-black smile.
"Satoru, if that's all you're capable of, then leave your life here."
Having withdrawn Formless Nirvana, Satoru gripped his Zanpakutō with both hands and flashed a wild grin in return.
"Sorry, but I don't plan on dying so early."
"Is that so? But do you still have the strength to resist now?"
The Monk tucked his hands into his sleeves. "I have fully comprehended the power of your Zanpakutō."
"No matter what technique you employ, as long as it derives from your Zanpakutō, it cannot escape my understanding."
"Any ability within my comprehension can be neutralized by this old man."
"As for your hand-to-hand skills... I admit you possess some talent, but to think you could defeat me with such meager ability is utterly laughable."
"Since ancient times, Shinigami power has been manifested through the Zanpakutō."
"Relying on fists and feet is heresy."
"When facing inferior opponents, the method of victory matters little. But to expect heresy to prevail against an existence far surpassing your level is pure foolishness!"
The moment his words fell, he stomped the ground and instantly closed the distance to Satoru, striking palm-first toward his chest.
Satoru, who had prepared to counter with a punch, suddenly changed expression upon seeing the Monk's attack trajectory. Shifting his arm direction, he met the strike with his elbow.
BOOM!!!
The terrifying force from the Monk's palm surged through the point of contact into Satoru's arm.
The violent impact dislocated his entire arm, blood spraying from his shoulder.
"Hmm?"
Noticing Satoru would rather endure injury than alter his defense to protect his chest, the Monk raised an eyebrow.
Does this brat have a chest injury?
Squinting, he observed a flame-shaped tattoo.
The Monk suddenly recalled—back in the dojo before their battle began, Satoru had revealed this mark.
If his senses hadn't deceived him, the youth seemed to have used some method to seal what was originally an active emblem.
What kind of maneuver is this?
Driven by curiosity, he closed in again.
Facing the Monk's second assault, Satoru neither dodged nor evaded.
First, he forcibly reset his dislocated arm back into its socket, then blue flames erupted from his back with a roar.
Shunkō—Hell Chariot!!
With fire blazing from his shoulders, Satoru charged back faster than before.
Between them, afterimages of fists and palms instantly filled the air.
When Senjumaru and Kirio arrived, they witnessed this astonishing scene.
While exchanging blows with Satoru, the Monk extended his Reiatsu to examine the emblem branded on Satoru's chest.
Seconds later, understanding dawned on his face.
This is an alarm mechanism... left by Yamamoto Shigekuni.
This Satoru brat actually deliberately disabled the alarm to prevent Yamamoto from sensing the disturbances here.
For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He was astonished that Yamamoto cherished this disciple so deeply, having even prepared for potential conflict with the Soul King Palace.
Simultaneously, he marveled that despite possessing such a lifesaving trump card, Satoru suppressed the impulse to call for help, personally discarding this lifeline.
He couldn't help but ask:
"Brat, why didn't you call for Yamamoto's help?"
Satoru grinned widely. "The Soul King Palace alone isn't worth my teacher's intervention."
"Heh... Yamamoto certainly didn't dote on you, his disciple, for nothing."
The Monk shook his head with a smile.
Then, his Reiatsu suddenly surged as he reached toward the flame mark on Satoru's chest.
His powerful fingers gleamed with crystalline Reiatsu.
Satoru had no doubt that his defenses would be as fragile as tofu against those fingers.
At the critical moment, he slapped his sword hilt:
"Detachment from Form, Serene Extinction!"
BOOM!!!!!
A whirlwind erupted, swirling around Satoru's body.
The Monk retreated dozens of meters in surprise.
Under his gaze, the storm gradually dissipated, revealing Satoru's figure within.
A silver helmet, golden half-plate armor, metallic claws, and shield-like wings.
Though his size remained similar to before, his aura was completely different!
Satoru let out a long breath.
White mist drifted from between his teeth.
He raised both arms and crossed them sharply—
"Bankai."
"Detachment from Form, Serene Extinction—True Self Illuminated!"
Sensing the layers of rapidly swelling Reiatsu from Satoru, the Monk showed an approving look.
"Indeed, a formidable Bankai."
"However, unfortunately, I am also aware of this ability of yours."
"Even earlier than you yourself knew about it."
"Any ability whose name I know cannot escape my control!"
As he spoke, he reached out and pulled a long brush from the void, gripping it with both hands and holding it horizontally before his chest.
Beneath the helmet, Satoru grinned:
"If you're not afraid, why draw your weapon?"
"Hmm... for ceremonial significance."
The Monk chuckled.
"Is that so."
Satoru nodded.
The next instant, transformed into a war machine, he swung his claws and slashed toward the Monk!
The Monk's eyes widened as he gripped his brush and engaged in rapid exchanges with Satoru.
The two figures shot up into the sky, crisscrossing and colliding above the Soul King Palace, erupting in bursts of Reishi explosions.
Outside the Phoenix Palace, Ōetsu raised a hand to shade his eyes as he watched the battle from afar.
"Oh ho, truly astonishing... Is this kid a monster?"
"With such terrifying combat power, if his opponent weren't the Monk, he'd likely have been defeated by now."
"Unfortunately... there simply doesn't exist anyone in this world who can defeat the Monk."
In the sky, Satoru's body radiated a brilliant golden light as he swung his metal claw with his right arm, slashing fiercely toward the Monk.
After activating Bankai, every one of his ordinary attacks carried the power equivalent to his usual double-layered force.
Even Ichibe'e had to take such powerful attacks seriously.
"Well done!"
The Monk roared, suddenly twisting the brush in his hand to meet Satoru's metal claw with the brush tip.
Screech!!
Amid the sparks that flew, the Monk's brush grazed Satoru's arm.
Suddenly, Satoru felt his right arm go limp as if drained of strength, becoming difficult to control.
Noticing the change in his expression, the Monk grinned:
"Cutting the name, not the flesh... that is the ability of this brush of mine."
"Anything touched by this brush loses half of its name."
"To put it in terms you can understand—you lose half your power!"
"How does it feel? The sensation of your arm being difficult to control must be quite painful, isn't it?"
Satoru quickly retreated, putting distance between himself and the Monk.
"Cutting the name, not the flesh... Is this your Shikai?"
"Shikai? No, not at all."
The Monk shook his head: "This brush of mine is not the same concept as the Zanpakutō you're familiar with."
"This brush has possessed special power since the moment of its creation."
"It was only much later that I comprehended its second stage of power, what you would call 'Shikai'."
"Want to know its Shikai ability? If you do, then force me to use it!"
The Monk bellowed, swinging his brush to attack.
Watching the Monk's approaching brush, Satoru didn't continue retreating.
After hearing the Monk's explanation of his ability, he instantly made a judgment.
Facing "Cutting the name, not the flesh," the longer he dragged things out, the worse his death would be.
Only by settling this quickly could he possibly grasp a sliver of survival!
Just as the Monk's brush was about to strike, Satoru suddenly moved.
He raised his right arm to block the descending brush.
The moment his arm made contact with the brush, the feeling of weakness returned.
This time, the emptiness in his arm became even more pronounced.
His control over the arm was reduced to just one quarter.
But Satoru paid it no mind at all.
Using the time bought by sacrificing one arm, he had already closed in to a sufficiently close distance to the Monk.
Gripping his metal claw, he thrust forward violently—
The Monk raised his eyebrows.
Trading injury for injury?
Too naive. When I attack, I keep forty percent of my strength in reserve. Just by pulling back my brush, your feeble attack simply can't...
Wait, no!!
Sensing the terrifying aura emanating from the metal claw, the Monk instantly realized something was wrong.
He retreated backward with all his strength, trying to create distance.
But because he had reacted a beat too slow, his body had already fallen within the capture range of Satoru's claw.
Gripping the metal claw, Satoru's pupils contracted sharply.
A double force executed entirely through his own physical body.
Aided by Shadow Strike, filling in the third layer of force.
And then... the detachment and cessation after Bankai, adding the fourth layer!
"Fourfold·One Bone!!"
"Satoru Hundred Fist Barrage!!!"
BOOM!!!
Just before reaching the Monk's body, Satoru unleashed all his power in a torrent!
The terrifying impact instantly engulfed half of the Monk's body!
"Uwoooohhhh!!!"
The intense pain forced a scream from the Monk that hadn't been heard in hundreds of thousands of years.
Not far away, Kirio and Senjumaru finally caught up.
The two had originally come to persuade the Monk to spare Satoru out of respect for Yamamoto Shigekuni.
But upon arriving, they saw Satoru with his arm extended forward.
The metal claws in his hand pointed directly at the Monk's stomach.
On the Monk's abdomen, a massive bloody hole was visible.
His belly had been pierced through, revealing squirming intestines within.
Some internal organs had also ruptured from the earlier impact, blood gushing out steadily.
"Hey hey hey... you've got to be kidding me..."
In the distance, before the Phoenix Palace, Ōetsu stood with his mouth agape, expression stunned.
On the roof of the Kirin Palace, Tenjirō leaned on his oar-shaped Zanpakutō, eyes wide with shock.
The Monk was actually injured...
After joining the Zero Division for so long, this was only the second time he'd seen the Monk wounded.
The last time he was injured was during a sparring match with Ōetsu.
In that bout, Ōetsu had been left with barely an inch of unbruised skin, requiring a full day's soak in his hot springs to fully recover.
Satoru... this guy actually accomplished something even more outrageous than Ōetsu?!
The Monk looked down at the wound on his stomach.
"What a fearsome attack... to inflict such damage without even making physical contact."
"If that strike had been released while touching my body, it might have pierced straight through my abdomen!"
He reached out and wiped his hand across his belly.
A green light appeared, sealing the wound.
While not fully healed, it no longer affected his combat ability.
Looking at the panting Satoru before him, who appeared completely exhausted, the Monk spoke:
"I acknowledge that technique of yours."
"Since that's the case, allow me to show you something."
"My... Zanpakutō release!"
Under Satoru's gaze, the Monk raised his brush:
"Blacken, Ichimonji!!"
A pillar of Reiatsu shot skyward!
...
...
Seireitei, First Division barracks.
Yamamoto stood beneath the eaves, silently watching the pond in the courtyard.
Behind him, Chōjirō Sasakibe stood waiting.
He felt somewhat helpless.
Three days had already passed since Satoru ascended to the Soul King Palace.
During these three days, the Captain-Commander had spent nearly all his free time here watching the fish, aside from handling official duties.
Though he claimed to be watching fish, having served Yamamoto for so many years, Sasakibe knew perfectly well he was actually waiting for news of his disciple.
Suddenly, he noticed Yamamoto frown and look up at the sky.
Thinking Yamamoto was worried about Satoru, Sasakibe quickly spoke up:
"Genryūsai-dono, there's no need to worry. Didn't you leave Satoru-dono with a distress signal? Since no signal has come, it means Satoru-dono should be fine."
Under his gaze, Yamamoto spoke in a grave voice:
"The mark I left... has developed a problem."
"Something is obstructing the connection between this old man and the imprint!"
Hearing this, Sasakibe couldn't help but startle.
"Could it be... the work of the Zero Division?"
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes but didn't respond.
Judging by the speed at which the connection with the imprint was lost and the sensation it gave, he suspected it was more likely that a certain rebellious disciple had actively cut off the signal!
His blood pressure couldn't help but rise.
"Notify the Kidō Corps to immediately construct the ritual and contact the Soul King Palace!"
Though furious, Yamamoto still issued the command without delay.
Based on the timing of the imprint's sealing and the decisiveness of the action, he had almost guessed what had happened.
If Satoru had chosen to confront the enemy directly, then even if he rushed over now, it would already be too late.
Damn rebellious disciple!
Inside a certain building in the Eleventh Division.
Aizen stood quietly, as if waiting for something.
Behind him, several captain-level combatants stood, all awaiting his instructions.
Suddenly, Mayuri spoke up:
"I've intercepted an encrypted communication from the Kidō Corps!"
"The Soul King Palace... they're urgently constructing a ritual to contact the Soul King Palace!"
"It's the Captain-Commander's order!"
Upon hearing this, Aizen's expression remained unchanged, but his gaze instantly turned icy.
The Captain-Commander isn't taking action but choosing emergency contact instead...
This is bad. That fool Satoru must have chosen to conceal it from the Captain-Commander and start the battle alone!
How could such an idiot exist in this world!
Fury sent Aizen's blood pressure skyrocketing.
Simultaneously, his mind raced with rapid calculations.
Between the Soul Society and the Soul King Palace stood over seventy layers of barriers.
Even if he led a team to storm the Shiba Clan, seized control of the Shiba Cannon, it would be impossible to breach those immensely fortified barriers strengthened over hundreds of thousands of years.
Unless... he could obtain a "Royal Key"!
Yamamoto's inaction indicated that he believed it was already too late to intervene.
So, what should he do?
Wait here idly?
For a moment, Aizen felt a wave of despair wash over him.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
Though the reason remained unclear, a unique connection existed between himself and Satoru.
From various daily nuances and the feedback he received after directly questioning Satoru, he was almost certain that Satoru's power grew in tandem with his own.
Undoubtedly, that guy was currently battling powerful foes in the Soul King Palace.
Then... if he took the Number Nine drug now to forcibly boost his Reiatsu, he might just increase Satoru's chances of victory!
Although consuming the Number Nine drug would damage his potential and permanently diminish his strength, there was no time to hesitate under these circumstances!
Aizen took a deep breath and pulled out a small box from his pocket.
Opening it revealed a red pill inside.
He opened his mouth, ready to swallow the pill.
At that very moment, a pillar of light suddenly descended from the heavens.
Like a satellite cannon fired from an orbital weapon, it crashed down with blinding radiance, detonating violently upon the ground of the Soul Society!
The massive explosive shockwave and rampant Reiatsu instantly obliterated vast stretches of surrounding structures, causing varying degrees of damage for kilometers around.
Everyone from the Eleventh Division to the First Division felt the intense impact.
Puzzled, Aizen flashed outside in an instant, gazing toward the origin of the explosion.
The next second, as if sensing something, his eyes widened in astonishment.
At the First Division, Yamamoto's eyes snapped open.
"Chōjirō, dispatch a team immediately to the explosion site!"
"Bring members of the Fourth Division... and inform Captain Unohana to join them!"
At the Eleventh Division, Aizen declared without hesitation:
"With me! We're going to rescue survivors!"
"Kurotsuchi! Bring reishi-restoratives and other medicines!"
Amid the blast winds accompanying the pillar of light, he distinctly sensed Satoru's Reiatsu emanating from the epicenter.
That guy... had actually returned on his own!
As he sprinted at full speed, Aizen couldn't help but shake his head with a wry smile.
Truly... the wicked thrive for a thousand years!