"Uchiha Milkshake!?"
Qiye stared at the round fan in his hands with a baffled expression, twisting and turning it absentmindedly. This was supposed to be his Soul-Severing Sword—the legendary weapon infused with the immense spiritual power of his clan. Yet, after the recent infusion of overwhelming energy, it had transformed into something utterly unexpected.
Gone was the fierce sword spirit, the overwhelming power he was used to feeling. Instead, all that remained was an ordinary round fan—plain, unassuming, utterly mundane.
No, that couldn't be right. A Soul-Severing Sword didn't just become an ordinary fan.
Qiye's mind raced. This thing can't possibly be used for kendo, he thought, eyebrows knitting in frustration.
After a few moments of silent contemplation, Qiye stood, gripping the round fan firmly, and looked over at Unohana Retsu, his eyes gleaming with challenge.
"Sister Hua, try cutting me."
At once, a spark ignited in Unohana's eyes. Her usual calm demeanor dissolved into fierce excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, she effortlessly tossed aside Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai Renji, who had been standing nearby.
To her, Qiye was a far more worthy opponent.
Ichigo and Renji quickly scrambled away, seeking Shihouin Yoruichi to request the immediate start of the liberation ceremony of Jijie. Between Unohana's overwhelming power and the dangers of this battlefield, any other threat seemed more manageable.
Suddenly, a colossal wave of Reiatsu exploded from Unohana Retsu.
She grasped her Soul-Severing Sword tightly, a cold, merciless aura radiating from her like the chill before a storm.
Without hesitation, she swung her blade.
Sword energy exploded outward, swirling like angry storm clouds.
Nanaya took a steady breath and raised the round fan to meet the oncoming assault. Infusing it with his spiritual power, he braced for the impact.
The moment sword energy met the fan, Fu Lingxin's voice rang out sharply:
"Uchiha Rebound!"
In an instant, the fan burst into radiant light, and the energy that had struck it was violently thrown back—a counterstrike as powerful as Kashiwamura Sajin's 卍700 release.
(tl note-its not the same symbol that u think it is )
"A counterattack!?" Unohana's eyes widened with surprise.
She recognized the nature of Nanaya's sword—it bore the rare ability to reflect attacks, much like Jūshirō Ukitake's Soul-Severing Sword.
But she didn't falter.
Swinging again, she shattered the returning strike.
Then, blazing with fierce determination, she fixed her gaze on Qiye.
"Qiye, fight me again!"
Their previous battle in this space had ended in a deadlock.
Qiye's vast array of abilities had made it impossible to determine a clear victor.
But that stalemate had fueled her excitement and fanatical desire to fight.
"What are you fighting for!?" Qiye sneered, waving the round fan dismissively.
"Do you expect me to compete with you in kendo using this thing?!"
Unohana opened her mouth to reply, "I'll lend you a Soul-Severing Sword—"
Before she could finish, Qiye lunged forward.
Unohana slashed without hesitation.
But the blade passed through Qiye's body as if he had vanished into thin air within this space.
"That ability again," Unohana muttered with a frown.
Qiye had used that intangible trick many times during their previous fights.
Nanaya smirked and turned slightly, patting something nearby.
"Pah!"
The sound was soft—like patting tender, supple meat beneath his hand.
Unohana's eyes widened in shock.
In just three days, this young man had grown bold enough to treat her with such disrespect.
Her anger flared, and she unleashed her captain-level Reiatsu.
"Za—"
(TLnote-ZA??girls german i swear)
"Sister Hua, I'm going for a walk," Nanaya said casually, waving his hand.
With a sudden surge, he soared into the sky, effortlessly passing through the barrier surrounding the space.
Unohana ground her teeth, itching to pursue, but she knew well that her Shunpo wouldn't catch him.
Turning her cold gaze toward Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai Renji, she saw two men visibly trembling.
They hastily brandished their oddly shaped Soul-Severing Swords and shouted:
"Captain Unohana Retsu, we're opening our Bankai! We can't fight you now."
"That's right! Once we've mastered our Bankai, we will definitely face you."
Seeing these two were currently useless, Unohana swept her gaze over the others.
Ishida Yulong? Too weak!
Sado Yasutora? Too weak!
Inoue Orihime—no exposure yet.
At last, Unohana's gaze settled on the black cat lounging by the hot spring.
With an almost fanatical look, she strode over.
The black cat, Yoruichi, blinked slowly, clearly confused.
"???" it seemed to ask.
Meanwhile, in a dim basement-like space, Nanaya paused, then headed toward the Palace of Confession.
As he advanced, he devoured the buildings along his path, intent on reconstructing the Gedo Statue.
Soon, a pale, towering structure loomed ahead—solemn, oppressive.
This was the notorious place where Seireitei imprisoned its criminals.
For three days, Nanaya had tried to send the Human Path Pain here, but Byakuya Kuchiki had stopped him each time before he could enter.
Stepping inside the Palace of Confession, Nanaya immediately set off alarms.
"Travel Disaster, Nanaya!"
A figure stepped forward—a Shinigami with slicked-back white hair, golden eyes, a black mustache, and brown skin, dressed in the Death Tyrant uniform.
His gaze was cold and resolute.
This was Chōjirō Sasakibe, vice-captain of the First Squad and trusted aide to the old man Yamamoto.
"It's not Byakuya Kuchiki this time," Nanaya said with a hint of regret.
"I still want to teach that guy a lesson."
Chōjirō drew his Soul-Severing Sword, pointing it sternly at Nanaya.
"Travel Disaster Nanaya, what are you doing here?"
Nanaya stroked his chin, glancing toward the prison cells.
"I want to check inside, though I doubt Rukia is here. With her skills, no one would dare lock her up. She'd be freed immediately."
Chōjirō snorted coldly, gripping his sword upright like a noble knight.
"With me here, Chōjirō Sasakibe, you shall not enter."
He wasn't careless—Nanaya was no ordinary human. He had defeated many captains.
Without hesitation, Chōjirō released his full power, radiating captain-level Reiatsu.
"Bankai! Huanghuang Yanling Palace!"
Golden Reiatsu erupted, regal and radiant, forming eleven golden lights crackling with thunder.
The oppressive aura was stronger than even Hitsugaya Tōshirō's Bankai.
"I am the First Squad's vice-captain. I've heard of your crimes in Seireitei. Today, I will bring you to justice."
His voice was grave and filled with unwavering confidence.
Nanaya's eyes narrowed as he watched Chōjirō swing his blade.
Golden thunder exploded outward, wrapping the sword and sky, striking like divine wrath.
"It's powerful, but if that's the case…"
Nanaya murmured, raising the Uchiha fan before his chest.
"Why not rebound it?"
As the lightning surged, the fan glowed brilliantly and reflected the thunder back skyward.
Chōjirō's eyes nearly bulged.
No one understood the power of his thunder better than him.
As a thunder-type Soul-Severing Sword, its lightning was enough to seriously wound even captains.
"Ahhh!!!"
Chōjirō screamed in unbearable agony.
Lightning surged over his body, making it twitch and flash like an X-ray—his bones clearly visible beneath.
When the storm subsided, black smoke curled from his form, his hair a wild, disheveled afro.
He collapsed, dazed and broken.
"That's it?"
Nanaya looked down coldly at the fallen vice-captain.
He had expected a tougher opponent.
In the end, all Chōjirō did was reflect the attack—and nearly electrocuted himself to death with his own thunder.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Nanaya stepped over the fallen man and muttered bitterly:
"The most mysterious and powerful vice-captain?"
"Who Hasn't used Bankai in hundreds of years?"
"A Shinigami who could become captain at any time?"
"Fool! If you don't fight for centuries, no matter how strong your sword is, it's useless. Pretend to be a pig long enough and you'll truly become one…"
Hearing this, Chōjirō Sasakibe almost spat blood.
A vice-captain who had mastered Bankai, reduced to nothing but a pig in Nanaya's eyes.
Shame swelled in his chest, choking him.
The angrier he grew, the more powerless he felt.
Finally, unable to bear it, he tilted his neck and fainted—saving what little dignity he had left.
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