Death God: Starting from Refining Essence into Qi

"Take a break first." Qianri's voice was hoarse from the fierce battle, but still steady. "We've left the pursuers behind us by a distance. I've checked the alleyway on the east side; we can get out of there."

Xuan nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings. Of the dozens of Xingjun soldiers who had followed Qianri in his charge, less than half remained, all wounded, their death armor stained with blood. They were the most elite warriors of the Secret Service, and from receiving the news to arriving at the battlefield, and then managing to hold off the pursuing Quincy forces, they had not hesitated or complained even when faced with the suicidal order of covering the rear.

Xuan closed his eyes, trying to regulate his spiritual energy, but his body was like a dried-up riverbed; no matter how hard he tried, he could only manage to squeeze out a few weak wisps of air. Fortunately, Zhenyuan was still in a state of liberation, capturing spiritual particles from the air and slowly sending them into Xuan's body.

Just then, the hairs on the back of Xuan's neck suddenly stood on end.

Perhaps due to the influence of the Spirit King's Sleep, in the state of Shi Jie Zhen Yuan, Xuan's spiritual power perception range was not only wide, but also much more acute than that of ordinary death gods.

He could sense an abnormal directional flow of spiritual particles in the air in the distance, rapidly condensing and converging in his direction—a cluster of extremely fast spiritual energy was rapidly approaching.

Xuan was suddenly startled and quickly made a judgment: it was a spirit bullet.

The bullet was incredibly fast, closing in in an instant. Xuan didn't even have time to warn Qianri, who was unaware of what was happening.

Xuan's spiritual power was already stretched thin. Even though he had been relying on Shi Jie Zhen Yuan to restore his spiritual power, it was still depleted. He had to exert all his strength to turn his body at a tiny angle before the bullets came and hastily raise his hand to open a circular shield behind Qian Ri.

【Binding Spell #39: Round Gate】

The shield was thin and its spiritual energy was dim, but Xuan had already exhausted the spiritual energy for his Instant Step technique, so this was all the defense he could muster at the moment.

A pure silver-blue spirit particle sniper bullet, possessing extremely refined penetrating power, was fired from a concealed position atop the distant ruins. Its trajectory was cunning, perfectly avoiding all the walls that provided cover, and striking Xuan's vitals along the gaps in the defenses.

The sharp, piercing sound entered my ears a beat too late.

The first to be hit by the bullet was a member of the Criminal Investigation Corps standing at the forefront of the defensive line. He was turning sideways to guard against the enemy on the east side when the bullet easily pierced through his Death Knight's armor and spirit body. A cloud of blood mist instantly exploded in his chest, his body swayed, and he fell straight down.

The bullet, undeterred, struck the hastily formed circular shield. The transparent shield instantly cracked like a spiderweb, then shattered with a crisp sound, disintegrating into countless fragments of spiritual energy. The bullet, still carrying its remaining force, continued its trajectory towards Xuan.

As Chihiro was carrying Gen south, he suddenly saw Gen make a move. His mind, which had been somewhat relaxed due to Saito's death and having just escaped danger with Gen, immediately tightened.

His reaction speed was extremely fast, and he finally sensed the spiritual bullet behind him, but by then it was already too late. He tried to move using the Xuan Shunbu technique, but his physical reactions were somewhat sluggish due to his mental state, and he couldn't outrun the bullet that was so close at hand.

At that moment, the sound of bullets whistling through the air and the dull thud of bullets entering flesh rang out simultaneously.

The bullet pierced Qianri's back, exiting through his left chest with a warm spray of blood. The acrid smell of burnt fabric and flesh, mingled with the pungent stench of blood, instantly filled the space between the two. The remaining impact propelled the bullet forward, precisely embedding itself in Xuan's left shoulder.

Xuan felt a sharp numbness in his left arm, followed by excruciating pain that shot up his collarbone. He could clearly feel his shoulder blade cracking, and his entire arm went numb instantly, hanging limply at his side. The immense force propelled him backward, his back slamming heavily against the rough, broken wall, dust falling in a flurry onto his hair and shoulders.

Warm blood splattered on his face, trickling down his brow bone and blurring his vision.

My vision was instantly filled with a thick crimson color, and I couldn't see anything clearly. A long, drawn-out buzzing sound filled my ears, and the lingering stench of blood filled my nostrils.

Qianri carried Xuan away from the original spot with Shunbu, placed Xuan on the ground in a corner of broken walls and ruins, and then slumped down on the ground with his back against the wall.

The surrounding criminal soldiers only then realized what had happened in the blink of an eye. They determined the enemy sniper's location from the wound of the criminal soldier who had been killed by a bullet, and then they all stood between Qianri and the sniper, forming a human wall to guard against any subsequent bullets.

Xuan was already used to the continuous pain of his soul being torn apart; this external injury was nothing to him. Xuan raised his still-conscious right hand, propped himself up, and reached towards Qianri, his voice still hoarse from the fierce battle:

"Qianri, where are you injured? Where were you hit?"

Xuan's fingertips soon touched a warm, wet patch.

Qianri's chest was no longer gushing blood, but dark red blood was seeping out, trickling down between his fingers. Xuan's fingers pressed against the edge of the wound, and he could clearly feel the huge gash from which the bullet had pierced, as well as the rapidly beating, yet increasingly weak, pulse beneath it.

Two executioners removed their clothing and wrapped it around Qianri's wound to seal it and prevent outside air from entering her chest cavity. Then, another executioner took a worm-like creature from a black box and inserted one of its needle-like ends into the depression directly below her sternum, draining the blood from her pericardium, relieving the pressure, and allowing Qianri's heart to beat again. During this process, the drained blood was transfused back into Qianri's body from the other end of the worm's transparent body.

Qianri leaned against the broken wall, his orange-red scarf soaked dark brown with blood, his short, silvery-white hair stained with blood and dust, clinging messily to his forehead. He looked down at the bloody hole in his chest, then looked up at Xuan, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Her smile was as bright as ever, as if the wound piercing her heart and lungs was just a minor scratch.

"What's the panic? It's just a scratch." His voice was much lower than usual, with a noticeable breathiness. With each word he spoke, fine frothy blood oozed from his chest. "I've actually used the prepared medical equipment on myself."

"Please stop talking, Lord Qianri," said Xingjun, who was operating the equipment nearby.

Xuan's fingers tightened slightly. He watched the emergency rescue unfold before him, clearly sensing that Qianri's spiritual pressure was weakening, like fine sand in an hourglass, slowly leaking away until it was all gone. That familiar, blazing, and intense spiritual pressure was now rapidly fading.

The prolonged battle, coupled with the shock of losing one of his two close friends to death and the other to serious injury in a short period of time, caused Xuan's consciousness to become hazy.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of fabric burned by the spirit, mixed with the pungent smell of blood. Yet, in a daze, a faint sweet fragrance of plum wine seemed to drift by – the aroma of wine that filled the courtyard on the day of their thousand-day wedding.

He remembered that Qianri wore a sharp suit that day, her eyes and brows radiating a smile. After the wedding, Qianri said to herself, "If I ever have a child, I'll have him become your apprentice."

Xuan's fingers tightened slightly as he gripped Qianri's wrist. The breathy, blood-smeared voice he heard overlapped with Qianri's cheerful laughter from his memory.

One night, not long after the Gotei 13 was established, Chihiro and Saito left their respective barracks and sneaked into Gen's underground training ground. The warm yellow light of Kido-tama fell on the sake bottle, and Chihiro swirled the bottle and laughed, "Once someone can take over our positions, we'll just retire and live a peaceful life."

Saito then chuckled and retorted, saying that you should properly train the next head of the Shihōin family, otherwise you certainly won't be able to enjoy your retirement.

But in the blink of an eye, Saito had transformed into a sky full of lightning and shattered before his eyes; Senji was also seriously injured, his spiritual pressure gradually weakening, and it was unknown whether he could be successfully cured.

"mysterious."

Qianri's voice pulled Xuan back to reality. Qianri's breathing was already very weak, and with each rise and fall, blood foam spilled from the corner of his mouth. His gaze fell on Xuan's face, and his eyes, which were usually full of smiles, now held a hint of pleading and entrustment. It was an expression that Xuan had never seen in his eyes before.

Throughout his life, Qianri was proud and unrestrained, fearless and always standing in front of others, never showing such a look to anyone.

Qianri's gaze slowly passed through Xuan, as if looking into the distance, towards his wife and daughters far away, towards the leisurely days he longed for.

But his pupils quickly refocused on Xuan's face. At this moment, blood filled Xuan's eyes, turning everything crimson, and he could only make out Qianri's rough outline. Qianri tremblingly raised his hand and grabbed Xuan's wrist.

"My daughter..." His voice grew even softer, his breath laced with blood and foam, "You must urge her to cultivate. Make sure she reaches at least... at least the third level of spiritual power."

As soon as he finished speaking, Qianri's vision went black, and he fell into a coma due to excessive blood loss.

Upon hearing this seemingly final statement, Xuan felt anxious and helpless as he sensed the gradually weakening spiritual pressure fluctuations of the past thousand days.

In the distance, the Quincy shield bearers seemed to have broken through the rearguard defenses of the Executioners and were now charging towards this place, while a rain of blue arrows fell from the sky.

Just then, the surrounding air suddenly froze.

The wind stopped, the dust suspended in mid-air froze, the spirit arrows flying from afar stopped in mid-air, and the drops of blood dripping from Qianri's chest froze an inch above the ground, like solidified red beads. The world seemed to have been paused; all movement disappeared, even the sound of breathing ceased to exist.

A gaunt figure slowly walked out from the depths of the alley.

He wore a tattered straw hat, the brim pulled low, obscuring most of his face. A gray beard, dusty and grime, hung down from the brim. His back was slightly hunched, but his steps were steady. In his hand, he held an ancient-looking Zanpakuto, already drawn.

It was none other than the captain of the 13th Division, Nikotsu Saizo.

He walked up to the two men and stopped. His gaze swept over Qianri's body, then over Xuan's pale face and broken left arm, a flicker of pain crossing his cloudy eyes. The old man opened his mouth, but ultimately only sighed softly, the aged sigh echoing in the still air.

"Don't be nervous, this is my ability." Nikotsu Saizo's voice was dry and hoarse, like the sound of wind blowing through withered wood. "I can't hold on for much longer, so get you to the hospital as soon as possible."

Everyone, including Xuan, was completely paralyzed; their breathing and heartbeat had stopped, but their consciousness remained clear, or rather, their souls were unaffected.

Nigu Caizang's gaze swept over the criminal soldiers around him who were still in fighting stances.

Some looked in the direction from which the spirit arrows had come, their faces still wary; others drew their Zanpakuto and charged towards the Quincy, their bodies frozen in mid-air. Everyone stood motionless, frozen in place, as if time had stood still for them.

The old man bowed slightly in their direction. His back was bent low, and his white beard trembled slightly with the movement. His voice was filled with a heavy sense of apology.

"I'm sorry, I can't control this ability precisely."

He could only take Xuanhe Qianri with him.

His Zanpakuto possesses the ability to stop time, but its range is limited and comes at the cost of consuming his own lifespan. The duration of the time stop corresponds to the amount of lifespan lost, hence his appearance as a withered, emaciated old man. His physical strength and lifespan cannot sustain so many people, yet his time-stopping ability affects everyone within a certain range except for himself. These executioner soldiers are destined to remain here, facing the next wave of arrows.

Nigu Cai Cang said no more, straightened up, bent down, and carefully hoisted Qian Ri's body onto his shoulder. His thin body looked unsteady, but he carried an adult man steadily, without the slightest sway. Then he reached out his other hand, supported Xuan's arm, and with a little effort, pulled him up from the ground.

"I'm gone."

As soon as the three words were spoken, the two figures began to move rapidly in the still space.

The scenery along the way was like a frozen painting. The Quincy's spirit arrows hovered in mid-air, maintaining their flying posture; collapsed bricks and stones hung in the air, their edges sharp and distinct; blood droplets hung in the wind, refracting a pale blue light. Gen, being carried by the reversed skeleton, glanced back.

Those familiar members of the Criminal Investigation Team, who had fought alongside Qianri through thick and thin, remained in their final battle stances, standing quietly like silent statues. They were unaware that time had stood still, nor what awaited them in the next moment.

Nigu Cai Cang moved very fast, and in just a few breaths he carried the two away from the main battlefield.

Time began to flow again.

The Quincy's arrows, which had seemed to be stuck in an invisible barrier, slowly resumed their movement and gradually approached their target.

Those covert mobile team members whose time was suspended, although conscious, could only watch helplessly as the overwhelming pale blue spirit arrows slowly approached their bodies. Only when the arrows were about to hit them could they gradually move, but they could not exceed the speed at which the arrows pierced their bodies.

With the sounds of arrows piercing flesh and muffled groans, they fell one after another into pools of blood. One by one, their spiritual pressure extinguished, like candle flames blown out by the wind, quickly fading completely into the ruins.