Death God: Starting from Refining Essence into Qi

"Are you alone? You've got guts."

Zenjoji Yubin's figure was like a moving iron tower, and the Mankai Kongo Shackles after his Bankai gleamed with a dark, bloody light in his hands.

Two vajra rings engraved with mantras for subduing demons were linked together by a heavy chain. The dark red patterns on the rings looked like dried blood, and each swing of the chain produced a sharp sound that tore through the air.

The bluestone slabs beneath his feet had long since crumbled, each step leaving a deep indentation. The violent spiritual pressure surging around him shattered the scattered spiritual arrows aimed at him, and even the approaching dust automatically dispersed to the sides.

Standing opposite him was Algrara Lalau, equally imposing. He had already activated his Bloodlust Armor, and pale blue spirit runes crawled along the lines of his bulging muscles, covering his arms and extending down his broad shoulders and back.

For a typical Quincy, the Blood Armor, which increases strength and speed, might be more commonly used, but this is not the case for Algra Ralau.

He is a close-combat Quincy, and few ordinary enemies can withstand a single axe blow from him; even if they do, they can only withstand one more. In comparison, using the Bloodlust Armor to block other people's ranged attacks and reduce the recoil of his own attacks is more practical.

The Spirit Axe was heavy in his hands, its blade gleaming with a cold, hard light, and its surface broad and thick. Two heavy axes that would normally require two hands to wield were as easy for him as two hand axes.

The Vajra Ring and the Hand Axe collided violently in mid-air, the ear-piercing clang of metal causing a painful sensation in the ears. A visible shockwave of spiritual pressure spread outwards from the point of impact, sending blood puddles and rubble flying in all directions.

Zenjōji Yubin's feet sank half an inch into the stone slabs as she pushed off the ground. Her thick arm muscles were taut, and the veins writhed like earthworms under her skin as she held the opponent's giant axe in mid-air.

"Is that all the strength you have?!" Zenjoji Yubin roared in a deep, booming voice that shook the surrounding broken walls, sending dust and debris flying. He exerted force from his waist and abdomen, his arms suddenly swinging outwards, the Vajra ring with chains sliding up the axe and crashing heavily into Algra Lalau's wrist.

Algra Ralau grunted, twisting his wrist to deflect the force. The giant axe sank downwards along with the opponent's momentum, its tip carving a deep trench in the ground and sending sparks flying. He pushed off the ground and took a step forward, slashing out with his other axe. The blade whistled through the air as it aimed at Consort Zenjoji's waist and abdomen. Even before the axe arrived, the sharp wind from it already caused a painful cut.

Shan Ding Temple Consort neither dodged nor evaded; instead, she lowered the Vajra ring on her left hand, forcefully catching the horizontal slash. The force of the impact traveled from her arm to her torso, shattering another ring of the stone slab beneath her feet, yet she remained completely still.

He grinned maliciously, revealing a set of white teeth, and swung the golden ring in his right hand along the chain, whistling through the air as it struck Algra Lalau's cheek.

The surrounding Shinigami and Quincy instinctively avoided this battlefield. The two pure powerhouses fought fiercely, and the scattered spiritual pressure and axe-shaped ring blades were enough to seriously injure ordinary soldiers.

Several Quincy infantrymen who didn't have time to retreat were knocked down by the sweeping axe wind. Before they could get up, they were struck by the chains swung by Yoshihime Zenjoji, and their bodies flew out like kites with broken strings, crashing into the broken wall and collapsing into a limp heap, never to move again.

After exchanging blows for dozens of rounds, Algrara Lalau had roughly figured out his opponent's style. Those brass-like metal rings were both offensive and defensive, and were linked by chains, allowing them to extend and retract freely. Their fierce moves contained precise timing, and several times they grazed his vital points.

His arms were slightly numb from the impact, and the muscles enhanced by his Bloodlust Armor were even starting to ache. This was the first time in a long time that he had encountered an opponent who could rival him in pure strength, and whose fighting style was extremely similar. Although he was slightly at a disadvantage, he was still enjoying the fight.

However, failing to eliminate the enemy before him would slow down His Majesty Yhwach's campaign, which made Algraa Larao's face turn solemn.

In contrast, Zenjoji Yubin was getting more and more into the fight, her ferocious grin growing wider. She was inherently a battle addict, and when she encountered an evenly matched opponent, her blood seemed to boil.

He paid no heed to the few shallow wounds on his body; the blood trickling down his muscles and into his collar only fueled his ferocity, making the attacks of the Vajra Shackles even more ruthless. He suddenly snapped his double rings together, clamping the massive axe that was coming at him, his arm muscles taut, forcefully pushing back Algra Lalau's force.

The two were locked in a brief struggle, the stone slab beneath their feet unable to withstand the pressure of their immense forces, cracks spreading outwards like a spiderweb. A vein throbbed on Algraa Lalau's forehead, and his spiritual pressure surged again. He gritted his teeth and exerted force, the axe blade slowly pressing down on his opponent, closing the distance between him and Zenjoji Yubin inch by inch.

Just as the two were locked in a stalemate, a slender figure silently crouched behind the broken eaves of a half-collapsed clock tower on the flank of the battlefield.

Nikita Deslock had already raised her sniper rifle, the muzzle steadily aimed at the imposing figure of Zenjoji Yubin in the center of the battlefield.

Nikita Deslock's gaze followed the crosshairs, precisely locking onto Zenjoji Yubin's back, her fingertip lightly resting on the trigger.

Her breathing was extremely slow, the rise and fall of her chest was barely perceptible, and her whole person blended into the shadow of the clock tower. Even her spiritual pressure was restrained to the extreme, blending into the chaotic spiritual pressure fluctuations all around, making her inconspicuous.

Confirming the target was at the optimal firing angle, Nikita Deslock's finger suddenly pressed down. The moment the trigger was pulled, the gun trembled slightly, and a burst of high-density spiritual bullets shot out, hurtling towards Zenjoji Yubin's back of the heart and nape with a sharp whistling sound. The bullets were so fast they left pale blue trails, tracing straight streaks of light through the smoke, instantly covering hundreds of meters.

Just as Consort Zenjoji was locked in a fierce struggle with Algra Lara, a sharp, stinging pain suddenly shot through her back, as if she had been stung by a swarm of wasps.

The bullet struck his thick back, first breaking through the spiritual pressure on his skin, then sinking into layers of fat and muscle, finally stopping just inches from his internal organs.

The shoulder of the concubine in Zenjōji instinctively sank slightly, the force of the struggle weakened by half, and the axe blade pressed closer to his chest.

Blood quickly soaked through the shihaka robe on Zenjoji Yubin's back, leaving dark red, damp stains on the outer white haori. But Zenjoji Yubin simply strained her muscles, and the blood stopped flowing.

But he only let out a muffled groan, his back muscles suddenly tightened to lock the bullet, and his waist and abdomen exerted force, using the pain to push the giant axe back.

"You fly-like thing, how dare you bother me!" he cursed gruffly, his eyelids not even lifting an eyelid, his entire attention still locked on Algra Lalau in front of him. The wound on his back was nothing more than a mosquito bite to him, not a big deal for the time being, and not worth mentioning compared to killing his opponent.

Algra Lalau naturally wouldn't miss the opening when his opponent exerted force from behind. He abruptly retracted his axe and spun around, his other battle axe whistling upwards, the blade aimed straight for Consort Zenjoji's chin.

Zenjōji Yubin tilted his head back to avoid the attack, the axe whistling past his chin. He then used the momentum to push out his Vajra Ring, blocking the axe in mid-air. He then exerted his strength, as if he wanted to break his opponent in two.

Instead of retreating, Algrara Lalau advanced, turning sideways and slamming her shoulder into the arm of Zenjoji Yubin, widening the distance between them once again.

With a roar from someone, the two engaged in battle once more, their moves becoming increasingly ferocious, the loud clashing sounds echoing continuously, and the cracks in the ground widening.

As Consort Zenjoji's movements became increasingly exaggerated, she gradually disregarded the injuries on her back, which began to bleed with each vigorous movement.

But the attack of the Zenjoji concubine showed no signs of slowing down. He strode forward and slammed down his double rings in turn, like two heavy hammers, forcing Algra Lara to retreat repeatedly and forcing him to use his double axes to parry.

In the shadows beneath the clock tower, Yan Yuanjinle raised his hand and pushed up his brown-tinted glasses; the reflection from the lenses made it impossible to see his eyes.

Yan Yuanjinle arrived following the intense spiritual pressure conflict, ready to support the captain who was fighting.

He originally intended to rush to the battlefield where Unohana Yachiru and Onizuka Amanoki were fighting as a four-person melee to provide support and free up more captain-level combat power as soon as possible. However, he saw that the area in front of him was shrouded in water mist, and he could not sense the spiritual pressure inside at all.

To avoid being accidentally injured by his allies, he came to support Lady Zenjoji. He happened to spot a cluster of bullets being fired at Lady Zenjoji from behind and followed the trajectory to find the bullet's location in the barrel.

Yan Yuanjinle's footsteps were very light, making no extra sound as he stepped on the gravel-strewn ground. His spiritual pressure was completely concealed, like a shadow blending into the background, as he approached the top of the half-collapsed clock tower step by step.

Nikita Deslock had just fired a burst of bullets and was gathering new spirit bullets when, without warning, a slight ripple appeared in the air beside her, followed by what seemed like a flash of light.

Almost instinctively, she jerked her head back and braced her palms against the broken wall beside her, flipping herself backward half a meter.

A flash of cold light passed by.

Yan Yuanjinle appeared where she had been crouching, his left hand gripping a horizontal sword about fifty centimeters long, the blade as thin as a cicada's wing, the tip of which was stained with a string of faint blood beads.

Nikita Deslock rolled on the ground, kneeling to steady herself, and immediately reached for her neck. Her fingertips touched something warm and sticky; looking down, she saw a faint trace of blood on her fingertips. A sharp pain shot through her throat; a shallow cut was oozing blood—just a hair's breadth away from severing her carotid artery.

She glanced up at the Grim Reaper a few steps away, her eyes sharp. Yan Yuanjinle also stood still, not giving chase, his Zanpakuto hanging diagonally at his side. Behind his brown-tinted glasses, his gaze was calm yet sharp, as if he were sizing up prey that had already fallen into his trap.

The two stood less than a foot apart, neither making the first move. The wind, carrying smoke and a faint scent of blood, swept between them. Not far away, on the street, the battle between Consort Youpin and Algra Lalau at Zenjō-ji Temple continued, the deafening clang of giant axes clashing with vajra rings, rubble tumbling down the broken walls of the bell tower, dust settling on their shoulders. Yet, within this small space, it was so quiet that even their breathing could be clearly heard.

Nikita Deslock had already discreetly modified her Spirit Sniper Rifle into a submachine gun in her left hand, but she still dared not make any rash moves, because she did not know if the Grim Reaper who had almost slit her throat had any backup plans.

Sunlight pierced through gaps in the clouds and slanted in through the holes in the clock tower, casting a cold glare on Yan Yuanjinle's glasses. He tilted his head slightly to avoid the direct sunlight, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on Nikita Deslock.

Yan Yuanjin stood upright, with his other hand hidden behind his back, as if he were holding something.

He did not attack rashly. The enemy's reaction speed exceeded expectations; they managed to evade a fatal attack while reloading ammunition and observing the battlefield, demonstrating their high level of combat skill. A hasty attack would easily expose weaknesses and might not yield any advantage; he needed to observe further.

Nikita Deslock was also observing her opponent. This captain of the Grim Reaper, wearing brown-tinted glasses, exuded an aura as steady as a stone sunk to the bottom of water, revealing not a trace of emotion.

His stance may seem stiff, but there's not a single blind spot on his body. The angle at which the knife hangs at his side is just right for him to launch a block or attack at the fastest speed. Even his footing is positioned in the most advantageous position for exerting force.

Another loud crash came from the street downstairs, accompanied by the boisterous laughter of Zenjoji Yubin, indicating that he had gained the upper hand again.

The two inside the clock tower remained locked in a standoff, their figures frozen in the smoke and light, a stark contrast to the frenzied battle below.

Nikita Deslock's Adam's apple bobbed slightly. The stinging pain from her wound traveled through her nerves, but she didn't even flinch. She was waiting, waiting for her opponent to reveal even the slightest opening. Yan Yuanjin was also waiting, waiting for the moment her opponent made the first move, to seize that fleeting opening and deliver a fatal blow.

The wind swirled brick fragments between the two, and time seemed to slow down in this small space, making each second feel exceptionally long.

The two stared at each other for a long time. Just after Nikita Deslock blinked, Yan Yuanjinle's figure suddenly began to fade. Nikita Deslock alertly sensed her surroundings and fired several bullets at the dissipating figure. The bullets pierced through the afterimage and hit the damaged wall of the clock tower.

"He maintained his form in place using spiritual power... I wonder how he managed to completely conceal his spiritual power. He must have left this place in the blink of an eye, such keen observation and speed..." Nikita Deslock analyzed the situation just now.

"The enemy is in the dark while we are in the light. Even though I still don't know how he appeared out of thin air in front of me, almost slit my throat, and then vanished into thin air, I must retreat as soon as possible." Nikita Deslock's mind raced. "For now, abandon support for Algra and prioritize retreating to a safe area near His Majesty. Fortunately, I've already wounded that Grim Reaper with a bullet; Algra should be able to withstand the duration of his Bankai."