Death God: Starting from Refining Essence into Qi

Xuan opened his eyes in the real world.

A thought flashed through his mind: the sword spirit is another version of himself, why does it talk so much? But there was no time for him to continue thinking about it—Unohana's slash had already landed. The long conversation with the sword spirit in the spiritual world was but a fleeting moment in reality.

He still held the unfamiliar shallow weapon in his right hand. Spiritual energy flowed in without any hindrance.

"Weave reality, for all things are illusion."

The blade melted in his palm. Ice crystals slowly spread along the spine, maintaining the outline of the blade while the edges twisted and deformed, like an aurora sculpted into the shape of a blade. The tsuba, a metal disc, disintegrated into countless tiny points of light, reforming into a precise, rotating ring that hovered between the blade and hilt, emitting a faint hum, like the fluttering of insect wings. The entire blade shimmered slightly from start to finish, each flicker leaving a trail of light in the air, tracing fine, shimmering fragments that drifted away slowly with the movement of the blade.

The power accumulated during his slumber was released at this moment. His spiritual pressure surged abruptly from a near-death state—like a flood bursting its banks and pouring into a dried-up riverbed, briefly supporting Gen's condition. However, this spiritual pressure carried an illusory, flickering quality, like a signal constantly switching frequencies, making it difficult to pinpoint.

Unohana's sword, which she had just slashed, stopped halfway through its strike.

Her gaze first fell on the ice crystal blade in Xuan's right hand. Then it moved to the pile of rubble on the ground—the arm guard that Zhen Yuan had transformed into was lying there, the cracks on the black and gold metal shell clearly visible, and the black and purple patterns had completely disappeared.

A Shinigami (death god) who possesses two Zanpakuto (soul-slaying swords).

Unohana watched this scene unfold. This kid had just grasped a fallen warrior's asahi-daira and instantly completed his Shikai—such talent seemed utterly ordinary in the face of this sight. In her thousand years of experience, she had never heard of a dual-wielding death god.

She aimed the tip of her knife at Xuan again.

"Let me see how many more breaths this new knife can give you."

Before she could finish speaking, Unohana had already closed in on Gen. Her toes trod over the gravel without making a sound, and her blade slashed diagonally from the lower right to the upper left, aiming for Gen's left neck.

Xuan's blade lightly touched the ground. The ethereal ice crystal blade exploded in that instant—countless tiny fragments shot in all directions, hovering briefly in mid-air. Each fragment reflected his face, his pale and focused expression.

All the fragments transformed into his likeness in the same instant.

Six Xuan appeared simultaneously in the depression. One raised his sword to parry Unohana, one swung his sword from the left to slash at her right rib, one bent down and stabbed at her knee from behind, one gathered power in both hands to condense Kido, one used Shunpo to try to create distance, and one knelt on one knee among the rubble—in the exact same posture as before, down to the exact detail of the bleeding wound on his thigh.

Unohana's blade sliced ​​across the neck of the first illusion. There was no resistance. The illusion's body swayed to both sides from the point of cut, like a reflection in turbulent water, twisting for a moment before shattering into fragments of light.

The second illusion on the left seized the opportunity to strike. The tip of the blade touched the fabric of her right rib—the sensation was wrong. Unohana didn't even turn around, instead slamming her left elbow backward. This elbow struck the illusion's chest, where one should have heard the sound of ribs shattering, but instead, it passed right through without resistance. The second illusion vanished.

A third illusion pierced her from behind, aiming for her knee. The blade pierced her—without any real sensation. She turned as the illusion dissipated, her gaze sweeping over the remaining shadows.

The fourth Xuan, who had gathered demonic energy in both hands, released white lightning. The lightning bolt shot towards her from the front—but almost simultaneously, the fifth Xuan, who had used Instant Step to create distance, also released the same lightning bolt, attacking from her right rear blind spot. The two bolts of lightning arrived at the same time, one from the front, the other from a blind spot.

Unohana swung her sword. The lightning bolt in front of her whistled even more sharply. Her blade cleaved the white lightning, then she turned to the side. A second bolt of lightning from her blind spot grazed her right shoulder, scorching a mark on her shihaka armor. The one in front was real; the one from the blind spot was an illusion.

Her lips seemed to twitch slightly. Without pausing, she cleaved the fifth Xuan Yi Blade in two.

The sixth Xuan, kneeling in place, made no move. The blade pierced his brow—again, without any resistance.

All six illusions vanished. Unohana raised her eyes. In the shadows of the rubble at the edge of the depression, Gensei crouched beside the corpse of a fallen warrior, supporting himself with the gleaming blade, panting heavily. Using the time bought by the illusions, he had retreated more than ten paces. The wound on his leg had been torn open further with the movement, blood trickling down the cracks in his Shinigami armor, forming a small, dark, damp puddle at his feet.

Not enough. Six aren't enough. The realism isn't enough either. Each illusion's movement has a barely perceptible lag—a half-beat delay when raising the sword, a slightly off-center swing angle, and a half-second slower turn into light fragments when shattered. Unohana caught these unnatural details. To create illusions that even the sword demon couldn't distinguish, one would need to simulate each illusion's movements, reactions, and spiritual pressure fluctuations with absolute precision—he hadn't reached that level yet.

Unohana walked towards him. Her pace was unhurried, her toes treading over the gravel, and her spiritual pressure pressed down on him as if it were a tangible substance.

Xuan gritted his teeth. He held the Myriad Phenomena Void in front of him, focused all his mind on one point, and activated his second ability.

Unohana's sword slashed down. Midway through the strike, her pupils suddenly contracted—the icy blade vanished from her sight, only to reappear a moment later, three inches above her right knee. She lowered her right arm, the blade angled in front of her knee, preparing to parry. But there was nothing in front of her knee. Her sense of touch and intuition simultaneously detected a threat approaching her knee—her spiritual pressure confirmed the threat's location, her skin felt the distinctive needle-like discomfort of a sharp weapon approaching, and she heard the shrill whistling of a blade cutting through the air.

Her gaze fell on her right knee. Empty. In her true vision, the blade was still three steps away. In her false perception, the blade tip had retreated to its original position.

A fraction of a second.

But those fractions of a second were enough for Xuan to sidestep the blade. Her blade grazed his right shoulder, cutting a new gash in his shihaka armor. The wound was extremely shallow.

Unohana gave a soft "hmm." Gen, panting as they regained distance, watched as the illusory blade flickered three times—his spiritual energy supply was insufficient. Even more troublesome was her overly sharp combat intuition. The feigned touch just now was too clear—a blade truly approaching the knee would create airflow, cast a very faint shadow, and cause the assassin to unconsciously adjust their center of gravity before striking. He didn't have time to simulate all these details.

She closed in again. The blade slashed down from directly above, blocking Tang Zhu's space to dodge left or right.

Xuan stared at her feet and activated his ability again.

In Unohana's perception, a sharp protrusion appeared where her right foot was about to land—a broken fragment of a Zanpakuto, blade facing upwards, piercing diagonally from the rubble. Her right foot stepped on it, and the tendons in her ankle were severed by the blade. The exact sound of bone cracking, the extent of the subcutaneous bruising, the angle at which her center of gravity shifted to the left after her ankle lost stability—every piece of information was precisely presented in her mind. At the same time, her spiritual pressure sensed Gen's true form approaching her right knee.

She looked down. There were no fragments of the Zanpakuto among the rubble. Her ankle was intact.

But the blade had already veered off course. The blade cleaved into the gravel, sending debris flying everywhere.

She took two breaths. It took her longer to shake off the false message of an "ankle injury."

However, Xuan's next move proved that it made no difference. The tip of his blade was already piercing the knot in the center of her chest—the first time in the entire battle that he had truly threatened her vitals.

Unohana loosened the hilt of her sword. She twisted her upper body to the right, avoiding a vital spot on her chest, and flipped her hands upwards—based on Gen's slightly bent left leg and his posture as he prepared to push off the ground to propel himself forward, she judged that the thrust was too powerful to be retracted midway, and disarming him with her bare hands was the best solution.

But as she pushed her hands to the intended position following the grappling trajectory, the wrists that were about to be seized vanished in an instant, reappearing below her forearms. The moment the blade tip deflected—it was light. The trail of light trails left by the flashing blade was used to create a visual misdirection. The real blade tip did not deflect. The real blade tip remained aimed straight at her chest.

Unohana's left palm slapped the blade away. The instant the blade was deflected, Gensuke released the hilt. The Void of All Things tumbled halfway through the air, the blade's light flashing blindingly bright for a moment—all the remaining light erupted in that instant. Vision was obscured.

In the brief moment when his vision returned, Xuan gripped the hilt of the knife again, the blade already three inches to the side of her neck.

The blade stopped on its own three inches away.

He couldn't strike anymore. His strength was completely exhausted. He knelt on one knee amidst the rubble, leaning on the Void of All Things, his chest heaving violently. The trails of light on the blade thinned, his leg wound was still bleeding, blood loss made the edges of his vision begin to darken, and his hand holding the knife began to tremble uncontrollably.

Unohana looked down at Gen, who was kneeling before her. Three inches to the side of her neck. From beginning to end, he had never truly touched her even once.

Then she sheathed her sword.

"Dual swords." Her voice echoed in the hollow, "Unheard of before."

She looked at him as if he were an unfinished sword. Currently, his strength was mediocre; he simply needed time. Time to grow, time to hone his skills, time to reach his full potential.

Unohana reached out her hand, her tone carrying a faint hint of expectation, like a hunter releasing a prey that was too young, promising to meet again in a more suitable season.

"I look forward to your increased strength, so I can enjoy a proper battle."

Xuan tried to stand up. His legs buckled, and he knelt down on one knee again.

She didn't help him up. She simply drew her Zanpakuto and swung it horizontally. Release.

A gigantic green ray emerged from the void, accompanied by the sound of flowing water. The flesh-eating creature opened its massive jaws—a jaw large enough to swallow an entire cow—and engulfed Xuan entirely within them.

Healing spiritual energy surged in from all directions, like warm spring water permeating the entire body. The edges of the horrific gash on the thigh began to close, muscle fibers realigned, and severed blood vessels shut one by one. Dozens of tiny wounds healed one by one, leaving only very faint white scars.

Xuan's consciousness blurred in the dim light of the healing. He vaguely felt the fleshy creature close its mouth, and then his whole body rose and fell gently with its movement. The soft sound of gravel being crushed came from outside, growing fainter and fainter, and farther and farther away.

Unohana bent down and picked up the remains of Zhenyuan from the rubble—the cracks on the black-gold metal shell were still clearly visible, and the black-purple patterns had completely disappeared. She looked at it for a moment, then put the remains into the mouth of the flesh-eating beast.

"Where do you live? I'll take you home," she said. Xuan thought to himself, "If only my words didn't carry that 'probing for the future battleground' vicinity."

"The Yorozuya in the West 20th Ward".

The inner walls of the flesh-clawed creature's mouth gradually closed, and darkness covered Gen's blood-stained face. The ray-shaped Zanpakuto adjusted its direction and swam westward.

The depression was gradually left behind. Moonlight shone on the corpses and shattered blades scattered on the ground, and on the black-haired woman standing there. The hem of her shihachi (a type of Japanese martial arts uniform) swayed gently in the night wind, and the bloodstains on her cuffs had dried and darkened.

The Minozuki carried Gen westward. The healing spiritual energy continued to slowly seep into every wound in his body. He closed his eyes, making sure both Zanpakuto were still there, and finally relaxed slightly.

Inside the flesh-sucking chamber, Gen finally had time to treat the wound on his thigh. The previous rough treatment had only slowed the bleeding, not stopped it completely.

He had already lost too much blood, and even with the aid of flesh-cutting therapy, there was still a risk of dying from blood loss. While he was still conscious, Xuan followed the "pinching the femoral root to stop bleeding method" recorded by Sun Simiao in "Supplement to the Thousand Golden Prescriptions", pressing his fingertips on the femoral artery and applying vertical pressure towards the pubic bone.

After confirming that the wound on his leg was only slowly bleeding, Xuan took off his shihaka armor and placed the relatively clean inner layer directly over the bleeding point, pressing down firmly with the heel of his right hand.

At this moment, his spiritual energy was almost exhausted, and he could not gather his spirit through the microcosmic orbit. Xuan began a technique he had never used since the Foundation Establishment stage—the Gathering Spirit Technique—where he closed his five fingers and placed his thumb at the base of his ring finger.

This movement stimulates the ulnar and median nerves in the hand, activating the vagus nerve through a nerve reflex, thus lowering heart rate and blood pressure, achieving a calming effect on a physiological level. This movement was taught to Xuan by his master when his junior brother in his previous life was unable to calm his mind. Xuan saw it by chance at the time and never expected it to come in handy now.

Xuan stopped thinking about it and focused all his attention on stopping the bleeding.

Inside the warm cavity of the flesh-crushing creature, Gen had no idea how much time had passed or where he was. He could only feel the slight undulations of his body as the ray-shaped biological Zanpakuto swam around.

Finally, with the help of the flesh-snip-like creature, the wound on Xuan's thigh stopped bleeding, and the other smaller knife wounds on his body also stopped bleeding. He was now temporarily out of danger. Xuan's face was pale as he waited for his wounds to slowly heal.

Whether Unohana chose to spare Gen for the sake of more enjoyable battles in the future, or there was a one in ten thousand chance that Unohana, a ruthless killer, felt pity—Gen ultimately survived.