Early the next morning, the sky was bright with daylight.
The joint expedition team had finished packing and continued their march into the distance.
The wasteland of the Rukongai's sixtieth district was gradually left behind, and the surrounding scenery grew increasingly desolate.
Hardly any intact buildings could be seen on either side of the road; only scattered ruins and broken walls lay hidden among the withered, yellow grass.
Occasionally, a few ragged souls could be seen wandering in the distance.
But the moment they spotted this procession of Shinigami, they immediately darted deep into the ruins, vanishing without a trace.
Walking in the middle of the formation, Hasumi Ren swept his gaze over those fleeting figures.
The looks in those people's eyes lacked the awe and curiosity found in the souls of the earlier districts.
Instead, they were filled with wariness and hostility.
There was even a certain indescribable greed.
"Notice it?"
Aizen's voice came from beside him, carrying a trace of imperceptible solemnity.
Ren nodded.
"They're looking at our Zanpakuto."
Aizen gave a slight nod.
"Beyond the seventieth district lies the most chaotic region of the Rukongai."
"The vast majority of the souls here are exiled thugs. They are aggressive, ruthless, and will resort to any means necessary to survive."
He paused, his gaze landing on the faintly visible figures in the distance.
"Every year, Shinigami are attacked here. Not by Hollows, but by these souls."
Aizen's tone was calm, merely stating an incredibly common fact.
"They covet the Shinigami's Zanpakuto, they covet the Shihakusho, they covet anything that can make them stronger."
Ren remained silent for a moment before turning his head to look at the burly figure leading the procession.
Kiganjo Kenpachi was taking massive strides at the very front, his broad Zanpakuto resting on his shoulder as he cursed and complained about something.
His gait was arrogant and his posture flamboyant. In this area, he did present quite an intimidating sight.
"Normally, the presence of the Eleventh Division is enough to deter those thugs," Aizen said.
He paused, a subtle shift entering his tone.
"But..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
But Ren understood.
Aizen also felt that Kiganjo was somewhat unreliable.
A captain who had nearly put the entire team in jeopardy last night because he drank too much and botched his duties.
A brute who relied purely on spiritual pressure and sheer force to crush his enemies, completely lacking any tactical combat literacy.
Ren didn't reply.
He simply continued walking forward, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
Aizen didn't say anything more, either.
The two walked side by side as the team continued north.
The environment grew increasingly barren and dilapidated.
The road had long since disappeared, replaced by rugged, uneven gravel and waist-high weeds.
Occasionally, a few unidentified skeletons could be seen scattered in the grass, gleaming a pale white under the sunlight.
Kiganjo's irritable cursing grew louder.
"Damn it, what is this garbage dump!"
He kicked away a rock blocking his path.
"Where are the Hollows? There's not a single damn ghost around! What the hell did they send me here for?"
The Eleventh Division members behind him immediately chimed in.
"Yeah, exactly!"
"The Captain is right!"
Hearing this, Ren furrowed his brows slightly.
*Did these people really know what they were doing?*
Just then, a sudden commotion broke out near the front.
"Lieutenant Aizen!"
A member of the Fifth Division jogged back, a grave expression on his face.
"We found something up ahead!"
Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Lead the way."
The team picked up their pace.
Passing through a dense thicket of bushes, the view suddenly opened up.
It was a ruin.
More accurately, it was a place where people had once gathered.
But now, only broken walls and shattered debris remained.
Houses had collapsed, walls were pulverized, and the ground was covered in scorched marks and deep fissures.
Ren's gaze swept over the area, his expression gradually turning serious.
These were clearly the marks of a battle.
And an incredibly fierce one at that.
He crouched down, lightly touching the ground with his fingertips.
The scorched earth still held faint traces of spiritual pressure fluctuations, carrying a violent aura.
Cero.
A Hollow capable of firing a Cero was, at the very least, a Gillian-class.
Ren's eyes scanned the entire ruin.
Those fissures, those scorch marks, the scattered rubble everywhere—this was clearly not the work of a single Hollow.
Ren then stood up and looked around, trying to find more clues.
But there was nothing.
Then, Ren's gaze paused. He saw spiritual power fragments scattered all over the ground in the distance.
Ren walked over and absorbed the fragments.
*This is...*
"Lieutenant Aizen."
A Fifth Division member ran over to report.
"We've searched the perimeter. There are no signs of Hollows."
Aizen pondered, his gaze sweeping across the ruins.
An Eleventh Division member scratched his head.
"Could they have just left after eating the souls?"
Aizen shook his head.
"Hollows don't attack the Rukongai just to fill their stomachs. They devour souls to acquire more Reishi, to evolve."
He pointed at the battle scars.
"Looking at these marks, the group of Hollows stayed here for quite some time. They came here to hunt. Without a threat, they wouldn't leave so easily."
He paused, his gaze growing profound.
"These traces, however, point to one possibility..."
Aizen didn't finish.
But Ren knew what he wanted to say.
And the fragments he had picked up confirmed it.
Those Hollows were already dead.
Wiped out by someone.
Ren's gaze swept over the ruins once more.
Everything pointed to a single answer.
A massive battle had taken place here.
The victors had annihilated the Hollows completely, leaving not a single trace of their remains behind.
But...
*Who could it be?*
As he was pondering, a bizarre fluctuation of spiritual pressure suddenly transmitted from the distance.
The spiritual pressure was wild and chaotic, like a beast ready to devour someone at any moment.
It carried a pure, naked aura of savagery.
Ren rested his hand on his Zanpakuto and turned his head, looking in the direction the spiritual pressure was coming from.
Just beyond their line of sight, several figures were slowly walking toward them.
Leading the group was a tall, imposing man.
He wore a tattered garment, his chest bare, and his hair hung down in a messy, wild tangle.
In his eyes gleamed the light of a wild beast.
Resting on his shoulder was a sword—a Zanpakuto with a heavily jagged blade.
The weapon's design was bizarre and ferocious, the blade still stained with dried blood that glinted with a dark red luster in the sunlight.
He simply carried the sword like that, approaching step by step.
His pace was slow and steady, carrying a strange, oppressive weight.
And on his other shoulder, bizarrely enough, sat a little girl.
She had pink hair and a petite frame, also wearing tattered clothes.
Sitting on the man's shoulder, she gripped his hair with her two small hands, her large, round eyes curiously observing the crowd before her.
Behind the man followed two others.
One was bald, with a Zanpakuto hanging at his waist and a cold expression on his face.
The other had long hair and handsome features, yet exuded an indescribably effeminate aura. He, too, wore a sword at his waist.
The four of them slowly approached.
They didn't stop until they were right in front of the team.
The tall man lowered his head, revealing a face marked by a hideous scar.
Then, his gaze swept over the tense, guarded squad members, his voice low and hoarse.