Chapter 75: Soul King's Divine Fist, Style 1 — The Soul King's Casual Punch
Unsurprisingly, once Mo Yu issued his apocalypse declaration, the atmosphere was pushed to a fever pitch. The first to react wasn't the powerhouses of the Three Worlds, but Hell itself.
The already surging Miasma of Hell began to erupt at three, five, even ten times its original rate. To put it in human terms, Hell was currently wearing a headband that read [Lord Soul King's Life-Long Number One Fan] and a support outfit screaming [Heartily Welcoming Lord Soul King to Oversee Hell's Operations], frantically waving glow-sticks and screaming "KO! KO!" for Mo Yu.
It was easy to understand. For a million years, Hell had been gnawing at the Three Worlds. Facing the Soul King—the materialized crystalline essence of the Chaos World—it was naturally overwhelmed with desire.
In contrast, the hearts of the powerhouses whose spirits had been pulled to the palace sank into an abyss! No one dared to ignore Mo Yu's jesting tone, for as his words fell, the world transformed. Thunder roared, mountains and rivers buckled, and a vast, terrifying majesty radiated outward, pinning everyone down until they could barely breathe.
Then, Mo Yu took a casual step forward. Endless dark clouds birthed from nothingness, rolling like a tide that blotted out the sky. He took another step, and the very foundation of the Soul Society began to tremble.
Though the Soul King wasn't born at the absolute dawn of time, the million-year survival of the Three Worlds rested solely on His shoulders. In this severed Chaos World, He was the true Creator, the Supreme God-King; His existence was synonymous with the world itself. At this moment, His will flowed through heaven and earth, declaring that the opening performance was over—the tournament had officially begun!
The King of Fighters Tournament in the Bleach world was not a team-based battle to decide a single winner. Mo Yu, though bearing the mantle of an Old Testament God, was a modern youth raised on Eastern culture. Even while replicating God's classic move—the Great Flood—he didn't quite like the Western style of a "final judgment."
World karma is the accumulated debt of all phenomena, not the sin of one man; therefore, it does not require one man to bear it all. The world's sins are borne by all living beings; the world's tribulations are solved by them. In this tournament to liquidate a million years of karma, Mo Yu didn't need a handful of "protagonists" to endure the test—he cast his apocalyptic will upon everyone equally.
The battle began in that instant.
With every step forward, carrying the might of heaven and earth, the will of every Purity powerhouse was tested. Some retreated, some resisted, and some rose against the current, returning Mo Yu's will with equal ferocity. Through the Soul King's vessel, Mo Yu felt it all. The wills of many powerhouses transformed into invisible, scorching fists, ready to fire!
It was a silent declaration: Once Mo Yu stepped out of the palace, a brutal, bloody brawl would be unavoidable!
Such a high-purity response made Mo Yu laugh. "Not scared? Scaring me instead? Excellent Purity. You haven't disappointed me. Let me personally feel whether this world I created is qualified to continue into the New Era!"
Mo Yu leapt from the Soul King Palace, spreading his arms and enjoying the thrill of a freefall from tens of thousands of meters! The wind howled in his ears, and the ground enlarged rapidly. Finally, with a thunderous BOOM, the earth cracked into a massive crater. Mo Yu landed in a standard "superhero landing" pose, stood up, and began to walk.
Dark clouds spread, the earth quaked, and Hell's shadows expanded. All this was because, after a million years, the Soul King was treading upon His creation for the first and last time.
In the Seireitei, silence reigned.
In the center of the Soul Society, there were many qualified to be pulled to the palace for the opening act—especially after Rukia's "Muscle Light" recruitment drive. Many had premonitions, but held onto a sliver of hope; the Soul King's declaration had now thoroughly extinguished that hope.
The Soul King's creation of the Three Worlds was an indisputable miracle. Even the most arrogant man, looking at the world and measuring his own strength, understood the absolute gap between God and man.
Terror, unease, and cowardice spread through the Soul Society. Then, everyone's eyes instinctively fell upon Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto. When the sky falls, the tall must hold it up. The strongest Soul Reaper of a millennium was the backbone of the Seireitei; as long as he stood, there was hope.
Yamamoto sensed the gaze. He turned his head slightly to look at the Monk, who had appeared out of nowhere, and said flatly:
"I can understand my worthless disciples, weak ordinary Reapers, and even the useless Nobles looking at me with such eyes. But you, the Captain of the Zero Division—as the Royal Guard, shouldn't you be the first to the front line when the King treads the earth? Why do you watch me with the eyes of a coward?"
The Monk's smile was awkward. "My traps and preparations are mostly inside the palace. Now that the Heretical God has hijacked the King's body and walked out, it's a bit of a headache. The current plan is for everyone to act together to restrain the Vessel, and then I'll find a way to exorcise the God."
Yamamoto remained stoic, his blood-red eyes calm. "The fact that your will was pulled to the palace means you've started to contemplate the mysteries of Purity yourself. If so... don't you think those words have very low Purity?"
The Monk's smile turned even more strained. For a million-year-old monster to be caught "version-lagging" and secretly studying the new patch was embarrassing. But adhering to the logic that 'if I'm not embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to others,' he said:
"Purity aside, in reality, we cannot allow the King's body to fight. Every bit of His power consumed brings the destruction of the Three Worlds closer. In the end, even if we win, there will be nothing left to save..."
It was a stark reality. The Three Worlds were maintained by the Soul King's power. To the Monk, winning the war but losing the world was a joke.
Yamamoto ignored him, saying flatly: "The Soul King and the Order He carries should have left the stage of history long ago..."
He had never felt the "Old Era" so out of place as he did now. The Soul King simply stood up and walked out, and the whole world shivered because it was about to end? Such a joke was too cruel even for Hell.
The Monk grew anxious. "I admit the current Order has flaws, but if we put the King back, we have time to improve. If the Order exits now, we all get buried with it!"
Yamamoto stopped talking to the Monk. He stood up and used his remaining hand to adjust the 1st Division Captain's haori on his shoulders. Finding it difficult, his Lieutenant of a thousand years, Chojiro Sasakibe, stepped forward to help.
Once ready, Yamamoto walked forward with his Lieutenant, saying without looking back:
"If everything is unavoidable... then let us, the remnants of the Old Era, be buried on the eve of the New Era's launch. At least then we can maintain our honor as Soul Reapers and leave something for the future..."
Eons ago, before he was "Genryusai," he had opened the Genji School to teach and leave his mark on the world. After two thousand bloody years, he realized he had never truly abandoned that original heart.
Yamamoto did not use Shunpo. He walked the streets of the Seireitei step by step. Soul Reapers, Nobles, and commoners in refuge saw his calm, deep gaze, understood his intent, and bowed in respect.
"My, my, old man. A rebellion of this level isn't something you should do alone. We 'young' people are the main force, after all."
Shunsui Kyoraku, the second-in-command of the Gotei 13, appeared at Yamamoto's side, walking with him.
"Teacher, you're old and frail. We're young and strong. You stay back and let us go first!"
Jushiro Ukitake followed, coughing blood as he spoke. Then came the other Captains—Byakuya, Komamura, Unohana, Kenpachi, Hitsugaya—followed by many Lieutenants and officers.
Walking slowly, Yamamoto lowered his eyes. A thousand years ago, he had marched into the Seireitei with his Captains to announce the Era of the Soul Reapers. Now, a thousand years later, he was marching out with them. The world never truly changed; it only repeated in cycles.
He walked past the gates and onto the open ground beyond the Seireitei. The tide of Hellish Macho-Men, though thinned by the purge, was still vast. But they had stopped their suicidal charges. They stood silent, dark eyes fixed on the Seireitei. The "flood" had paused because a far greater, more terrifying tsunami was rolling in.
Yamamoto and his men waited. Soon, the black flood split, and the Macho-Men lined up to welcome a figure walking leisurely toward them.
He looked ordinary. He wasn't particularly tall, nor did he have visible muscles. But the moment He appeared, no one thought Him small. Before the thought could even form, a presence as high as the sky and as vast as the earth filled their senses.
Kyoraku tipped his hat. "My, my... though it's the first time seeing the Soul King in person, that 'Celestial' posture is truly heart-stopping. I feel like kneeling just looking at Him."
It wasn't an exaggeration. A crushing pressure rolled over them, like the world itself was scolding them, forcing them toward the dirt.
"Excluding Aizen and his group—who have no interest in the profession—are all those who symbolize the honor of the Soul Reaper standing before me? Good. High spirits. The battle intent in your eyes is potent; I am satisfied. Well then, enough talk. Come..."
The Soul King extended His right hand. He curled His fingers, leaving only His middle finger extended, and gave a light, provocative beckon:
"Use your fists and blades to tell me what Soul Reaper honor is. Use your will to tell me what the New Era in your hearts should look like. If you cannot... do not blame me for showing no mercy!!!"
The first to strike was the youngest Captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya. At only twelve years old in appearance, he was the most impatient under the crushing pressure. Or perhaps, knowing his lack of experience, he struck first to gather data for the others.
"Bankai! Daiguren Hyōrinmaru (Grand Crimson Lotus Ice Ring)!"
An ice lotus bloomed, and a majestic ice dragon coalesced, dancing with fierce power. The weather shifted instantly into a blizzard. Mo Yu looked up at the falling snow, a trace of intoxication in his eyes. Supernatural weather created by individual power was truly beautiful. Snowflakes fell on him, turning into frost.
"Hyōten Hyakkasō (Frozen Heavens Hundred Flower Funeral)!"
Hitsugaya went straight for his ultimate. Hyōrinmaru, the strongest ice-type blade, specialized in weather manipulation. The snowflakes were his blades. If pushed to its limit, this move could freeze the Soul Society or permanently alter the climate of the Three Worlds. Of course, to reach that level, Hitsugaya needed two thousand years of growth to match Yamamoto's raw mass. But even now, the internal freezing power was immense.
As the funeral progressed, Hitsugaya charged, intending to end it with a stylish execution slash.
Though covered in frost, Mo Yu looked away from the sky and locked eyes with the charging boy. He gave a flat critique:
"Flashy and pointless."
Hitsugaya's eyes went wide. At some point, the Soul King had clenched His fist. At some point, He had swung it. The fist enlarged in Hitsugaya's vision. Where the shockwave passed, the wind died, the snow stopped, and the exquisite ice flowers were pulverized.
Soul King's Divine Fist, Style 1 — The Soul King's Casual Punch.
When the dust settled, Hitsugaya was face-down on the ground, his head buried deep into the earth by the blow.
Retracting His fist, Mo Yu looked at the crowd. "Aside from relying on the Zanpakuto's power, you have no other skills. The blade's ability is strong, yet your development of it is pathetic. Overall, your Purity is far too low. If this is the 'New Generation' of Soul Reapers, then this profession has no reason to exist!"
In the original series, Hitsugaya was the "No. 1 Genius," with a blade rivaling Yamamoto's fire—infinite potential. But in practice, he was the "Jobber King," constantly losing to make others look good. Even when the author gave him a "Hype Adult Form," the effect was debatable.
In this World Bubble, he gave Mo Yu zero surprises.
However, Mo Yu waited. He wanted to see if Hitsugaya would "Adult-Form" early—to see if his Reiatsu would spike and his body would grow as he unleashed his true Bankai. The expectation came true: the boy buried in the dirt began to emit an abnormal flow of spiritual energy, and a more potent cold erupted.
But after waiting a few seconds, Mo Yu found the transformation speed too slow. He grew curious: Can a second-stage transformation be interrupted?
He swung another punch.
With his upper body now thoroughly hammered into the bedrock, Hitsugaya proved one thing to Mo Yu: Starting a slow second-stage transformation right in front of the enemy is not a wise move.
End of Chapter
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