Chapter 283: Death To All Who See

Why is he wearing clothes?

Forget it.

As an exceptional swordsman, he shouldn't care whether the opponent is dressed or not.

Urahana Jiro's arm ached from the slow and delicate polishing, but he finally finished wiping the tip of the sword. He held the blade, forged with a meticulous fish-scale pattern, which reflected in his eyes. He felt an urge to lick the blade, wanting to display his perverseness to instill fear.

But such behavior was not elegant and didn't befit a gang leader or a master swordsman. He restrained himself.

Suddenly, he glared fiercely, exuding the aura of a killer who had slain hundreds. He held the blade vertically, then turned it towards H'el. His legs, folded beneath him in a kneeling position, straightened as he rose, the aura of a mountain of corpses and sea of blood pouring towards H'el.

Staring directly at H'el, Urahana Jiro felt a chill.

H'el held the sword by the hilt with his right hand, seemingly barely able to grasp it, dragging the blade behind him, the tip leaving droplets of blood on the ground.

Urahana Jiro felt his overwhelming aura, which had intimidated so many, had no effect on H'el, who seemed to walk calmly out of the blood-soaked mountain, dragging his sword, gazing at the heavens, and looking down on all things with an air of facing both destruction and rebirth with serenity.

Perplexed, Urahana Jiro wondered why his aura had no impact. He was renowned for his hundred kills. A single glare from him could make any thug wet their pants.

Surely, this child didn't understand the terror he represented.

In terms of a killer's aura, H'el had surpassed it long ago. In his first journey to the Pacific Rim, he had slain over eight million heinous criminals. In the second journey to the Transformers universe, he had caused the death of over a billion with his seven-layer gold barrier. And lastly, he had obliterated the entire planet of Krypton, killing billions.

Compared to H'el, Urahana Jiro, who had killed a mere hundred, was like a breeze.

At least a breeze could touch H'el's face, bringing a moment of coolness.

"Do you know what this sword is?"

No reaction? Fine.

You can't blame a child for being slow.

Urahana Jiro spoke softly, his face radiating an aura of a revered master, his eyes filled with pride and love for his beloved sword.

"Could it be... a Zanpakuto?" H'el's steps did not falter, his expression serious.

If it truly was a Zanpakuto, this man was indeed formidable.

H'el would have to be fully prepared, testing the distance between his current body and the Zanpakuto.

If it wasn't, then what was he boasting about?

"Shi—..."

Urahana Jiro felt a surge of frustration rise from his chest to his throat, choking him.

'Does this child even know what a Zanpakuto is?' he thought.

A Zanpakuto is a weapon issued by the highest authority of the Soul Society, the Seireitei, cultivated from Asauchi. Only Shinigami possess such a weapon. It's a symbol of status and nobility, far beyond the reach of commoners like us.

Urahana Jiro wanted to explain that his sword was crafted by his brother who had ascended to a Shinigami. The sword, named "Daitochi," was extraordinarily sharp, capable of cutting flesh before the tongue even reached the blade. It was a weapon of unrivaled sharpness and beauty, fitting for him.

But H'el's question disrupted his introduction. Compared to a Zanpakuto, his blade seemed inferior.

"Ignorant child!"

Urahana Jiro snorted coldly, his frustration transforming into anger. He advanced on H'el with his sword, saying, "There's no need to explain to you. Let my Daitochi send you to join Watanabe in death."

With these harsh words, he squinted and swung Daitochi diagonally at H'el.

"So, it's not a Zanpakuto," H'el muttered, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He had hoped that a Zanpakuto might have ended up in this remote region.

H'el tilted his body to avoid the strike. He didn't intend to engage in a prolonged fight. Seeing that Urahana Jiro had some skill, H'el decided to end the battle quickly by using a bit more force.

Sakura Falls flicked upward, meeting Urahana Jiro's contemptuous smile. In an instant, the sword's path split into countless shimmering images, creating a flurry of phantom blades before Urahana Jiro's eyes.

True to its name, Sakura Falls, the sword scattered like cherry blossoms, ethereal and numerous, enveloping him in a cascade of falling petals. He felt the cold steel slice through his clothes and skin, the icy touch shocking him back to reality, his heart filled with terror.

"Flash!"

Urahana Jiro, in a moment of desperation, employed the Shunpo technique taught to him by his elder brother, Urahana Ichiro, who was a Shinigami. He used Shunpo to escape H'el's barrage of sword strikes, creating a gust of wind as he retreated and landed on a grass mat.

Looking down, Urahana Jiro was horrified to see his chest and abdomen slashed open, exposing white fibers and flesh. Blood oozed from the deep wound that revealed bone, and his clothes hung in tatters, sticking to his body. Even his shoulders were not spared from the vicious attack.

H'el's Sakura Falls blade had executed a flawless technique, sealing off every escape route except a rapid retreat. Without Shunpo, Urahana Jiro would have been shredded to pieces.

"Use that escape move again," H'el's eyes gleamed with interest as he observed Urahana Jiro's Shunpo, a technique that utilized spiritual energy. H'el lacked knowledge and practical techniques involving spiritual energy, so this piqued his curiosity.

Holding Sakura Falls, H'el advanced steadily and confidently. Although he had witnessed Urahana Jiro's Shunpo, his initial focus was on swiftly eliminating him, rather than understanding the technique fully.

Urahana Jiro, seeing H'el approaching, felt a chill run down his spine. He realized that relying solely on his swordsmanship was futile against this child. The comprehensive Sakura Falls technique that sealed all directions was beyond his ability to counter.

'Did some sword master from the living world die and come to the Soul Society?' Urahana Jiro thought, perplexed. But the idea of a seven or eight-year-old possessing such advanced swordsmanship was absurd.

The pain from the wounds on his chest and abdomen fueled Urahana Jiro's determination. With a grim expression, he pointed his sword at the advancing H'el and spoke coldly, "You've angered me. This is a technique only a Shinigami can wield. Those who see it must die."

"There is no escape for you now."

°°°

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