Death: This Death is a bit unorthodox.

There should be a position like the King of Las Noches, right?

What about others?

Aizen narrowed his eyes, realizing that things were not so simple, and began to carefully search through the lists of various departments.

After some effort, I finally found my target on the back of the document.

The husband of Hueco Mundo, who also serves as the director of the Comprehensive Office for Physiological Health Research of Female Arrancars—Aozaki Mazuki.

Upon seeing this, Aizen felt that all his centuries of pretense had been for nothing.

His chest heaved violently, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath to suppress his intense urge to kill someone.

"Overall, there doesn't seem to be a major problem, except for this..."

He picked up his pen and aimed the tip precisely at Aozaki Mayuki's long and tedious job title.

"No! Aizen, please!"

Just as Aozaki Mayuki revealed a heartbroken and reluctant expression.

Aizen glanced at him casually, then felt a surge of pleasure and lightly made a stroke.

"In that case, there will be no problem."

He nodded in satisfaction, walked slowly to the throne, looked at the group of Arrancar below, coughed lightly, and said solemnly:

"The Emperor of Hueco Mundo, Aozaki Mayuki..."

…………

The reactions of the corrupt officials after the list of cadres was announced were quite interesting.

People like Gangteng Baien and Xiao Long are only considered to be of above-average level among Adjuchas, and are still far from being top-tier Adjuchas.

Being able to fight your way out from hundreds of Adjuchas and become a cadre is incredibly motivating for them.

However, many broken faces were not convinced.

The one who shouted the loudest here was Grimmjow.

It's one thing if people like Harribel and Nelieel are of higher status than me.

They're all old acquaintances.

Grimmjow had challenged them before and lost miserably.

He's not someone who can't accept defeat.

He should stand at attention when he gets hit, and he'll admit defeat if he loses.

But Stark, this new guy, has never even fought before.

Why is he ranked higher than him among the Espada?

He is not satisfied.

Without saying a word, Grimmjow challenged the Starks to a positional exchange.

This is Hueco Mundo, a place where fists do the talking.

Aozaki Mayuki agreed without even thinking about it.

Stark initially intended to refuse.

He just wants to find some friends to play with, not to compete for these empty titles.

But with the encouragement of Aozaki Mayuki and Lilynette, who were always eager for a good show, he eventually accepted it, much to his annoyance.

Grimmjow excitedly ran out of Las Noches.

The Arrancars usually train outdoors.

After all, their destructive power is not insignificant; a single Cero can cause considerable damage.

Outside the Palace of the Void is an endless desert, so it can withstand any destruction.

Many Arrancar share his thoughts.

Several of his companions from the Great Hollow era also ran over there.

However, their target was not Stark, but some of the lower-ranking Espada.

After all, Grimmjow was their former leader, and they knew his strength, so they wouldn't compete with him.

Just as the Arrancar were pondering who to choose as their opponent, a terrifying spiritual pressure swept over them!

boom!!!!

The spiritual pressure, like surging waves, crashed against them one after another.

The Arrancar stared in shock at the source of the spiritual pressure—

The Espada, sitting atop the sand dunes.

Grimmjow's eyes widened:

"How can Stark's spiritual pressure be so strong!?"

His former companions were also somewhat at a loss.

"Is Xiao Long really that strong?! He's been holding back when we fight one-on-one all the time!!"

"Picaro's group of kids aren't weak either, and there are so many of them. Is it reasonable for them to be ranked sixth?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

I want everything.

Chapter 277 The Fist Hardened

Several waves of spiritual pressure erupted like a volcanic eruption, sweeping over and shaking the minds of every Arrancar in the audience like a raging storm.

This terrifying spiritual pressure seemed to contain endless destructive power, inspiring awe and fear in all who beheld it.

Just by sensing the presence of that spiritual pressure, many Arrancar were already hesitant to offend it.

However, there was one exception among everyone present—Grimmjow.

He stared intently at the languid figure on the sand dune, his anger growing ever more intense.

"Are you kidding me...?"

Grimmjow muttered to himself through gritted teeth,

"Since you possess such formidable strength, why have you been hiding your true colors all this time? Are you deliberately toying with me?!"

His eyes burned with fury, as if he wanted to burn everything in front of him to ashes.

In fact, Grimmjow was not angry because the other party was stronger than him.

What truly angered him was the humiliation of being looked down upon and fooled.

Despite possessing such immense power, Stark always kept a low profile.

He usually presents himself as lazy and indifferent to everything.

This pretense was so hypocritical that it infuriated Grimmjow whenever he thought about it.

I have come a long way through countless battles, defeated countless powerful enemies, and devoured countless Hollows to achieve what I have today.

And that Stark actually hid his true strength, even disdaining daily training.

What makes him able to surpass himself?

What does my own effort count for?

Stark remained calm despite Grimmjow's angry rebuke.

A slight smile appeared on his lips as he spoke softly:

"Because that kind of thing is completely meaningless!"

His tone was calm and casual, as if none of this mattered to him.

This guy really doesn't know how to chat.

This nonchalant attitude was like throwing a fire into a pile of dry wood, instantly igniting Grimmjow's even stronger anger!

He stared wide-eyed at Stark, his chest heaving, a powerful spiritual pressure emanating from his body.

He strode forward, bracing himself against the intense spiritual pressure.

"Shall we continue?"

Stark tilted his head slightly, seemingly puzzled by Grimmjow's behavior.

A hint of doubt flickered in his eyes.

It seemed as if they didn't understand why Grimmjow was so fixated on this battle, given the obvious difference in strength.

"Since I said I would challenge you, I will never back down."

Grimmjow grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.

"It's better this way; only the strong are worth challenging!"

He reached out and grasped the Zanpakuto at his waist, slowly drawing it out.

Seeing Grimmjow's actions, Nellyel and Halibel exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of helplessness in each other's eyes.

Grimmjow is that kind of person, overly obsessed with fighting and power.

They had been challenged by Grimmjow more than once, which gave them a real headache.

Grimmjow was always beaten badly and horribly, but he still challenged again and again.

Seeing this, Stark couldn't help but sigh deeply, then leaped off the sand dune, staring coldly at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow dared not relax for a moment and immediately raised his Zanpakuto with alertness.

No matter how stubborn he was, the formidable enemy before him did indeed pose a huge threat.

In the desert not far away, there stands a towering tower that reaches into the clouds.

At this moment, Aozaki Mayuki and Aizen stood side by side at the top of the tower, looking down at the vast sea of ​​sand below.