Bleach: The Strongest Shinigami-Chapter 214 ⥤ The Dishonorable Old Man

Looking at the demon-like figure in the sky, Genryūsai's expression was complicated, filled with an indescribable impulse.

This kid had broken through to Rank 1 Reiatsu?

Though most of Akira's abilities came from his own teachings, Genryūsai felt no satisfaction at this sight. He should have had thoughts like "my unruly disciple has finally grown up" or "my painstaking cultivation wasn't in vain — the child can now stand on his own."

But Genryūsai felt none of that.

Right now, his mind fixated on one fact: when this troublemaker was at Rank 2 Reiatsu, he had already nearly turned Soul Society upside down, perfectly embodying defiance of authority and challenge to his superiors.

Now that he had broken through again, would Soul Society survive? Would he, Shigekuni Yamamoto, even live?

"Kekeke, bet you didn't expect this!" Akira transformed into a maniacally laughing figure in the sky, dense black flames surrounding his body like a demon cult member, "I broke through using your help, my Reiatsu has tyrannically increased, and now I'm invincible! Yama-jii, the tides have turned!"

Genryūsai: "..."

Indeed, this kid couldn't hide anything in his heart — whatever he felt immediately showed on his face.

Heh, you muscle-headed foolish disciple, you're still thousands of years too early to try overthrowing me!

His blazing Reiatsu surged again, transforming Genryūsai into a fire god from mythology. Air currents whirled around him as flames erupted once more, fierce heat waves howling and surging.

The violent Reiatsu dyed half the sky golden-red, contrasting with the ink-black above Akira's head, forming a magnificent spectacle.

"You fool, I won't lose to a brute like you." The old man's muscular arms bulged with veins, his knotted muscles unleashing terrifying power, every grotesque blood vessel clearly visible.

Wrapped in heat waves, Ryūjin Jakka struck toward Akira in the sky, launching a thunderous slash.

⤫ Ennetsu Jigoku ⥤ Hell of Scorching Flames! ⤬

At that moment, Akira found his breathing becoming difficult. The air filled with an indescribable scorching heat, the dry atmosphere seeming to ignite his internal organs.

The next second, a tornado of flame walls — several times more violent than before — roared forth. The ground broke apart with thunderous sounds, like divine punishment as apocalyptic scenes engulfed the entire back mountain.

Indeed, this kid couldn't hide anything in his heart, whatever he felt immediately showed on his face.

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In the 4th Division, in the corridor outside the ward.

Unohana gazed into the distance, a hint of nostalgia appearing in her gentle expression.

She had once declared herself Soul Society's greatest villain, having mastered every fighting style in existence. In her arrogance, she had even proclaimed herself master of eight thousand styles.

Then she met Shigekuni Yamamoto in his middle years.

By then, the name Genryūsai was legendary throughout Soul Society. Seeking the thrill of battle, Unohana had challenged him without hesitation — only to face a crushing defeat.

Despite her mastery of countless fighting styles, she could not overcome his raw power.

After that battle, at Genryūsai's invitation, she joined the original Gotei 13.

Even now, a thousand years later, she would occasionally recall that fateful battle.

She hadn't expected to see it recreated today. More surprising still was that Genryūsai's opponent was someone she herself had once tormented day and night...

Unohana's expression grew distant.

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As Soul Society's self-proclaimed entertainment expert, Shunsui had settled in to watch Akira's beating, complete with melon seeds and peanuts.

With the 8th Division's new editorial department keeping him busy — and his Lieutenant Lisa refusing to help — he welcomed any distraction.

Having endured his own share of beatings, watching his junior brother face the same fate felt as refreshing as biting into ice-cold watermelon on a scorching summer day.

Yet reality had other plans.

"Big news!" Shunsui spat out a melon seed shell, "Who'd have thought little brother would reach Rank 1 Reiatsu, given his usual fighting style? Yama-jii might actually struggle here. Are we looking at a new Captain-Commander?"

He shuddered, imagining the chaos that would ensue if someone else took the position.

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High above, tornados howled as flame walls converged. The earth groaned under unbearable pressure, riddled with interweaving cracks.

As the flame blade howled toward him, scorching heat surging in his nostrils, Akira's fighting spirit soared higher than ever.

⤫ Shunkō: Daikūhaku Hakai ⥤ Flash War Cry: Great Empty Destruction! ⤬

Black lightning and explosive flames erupted from both shoulders, boundless chains merging into his body to form patterns that resonated with his blood armor.

He grinned, raising his Reiatsu to its limit, wielding the force techniques inherited from the old man right before their creator's eyes.

Sinews and bones moved, muscles tensed like grinding iron blocks, releasing heat waves like a long-suppressed volcano. With fist clenched and right arm drawn back, he faced the destructive flame blade and threw his punch.

Hum—

In the sky, crimson red and pitch black collided, erupting into visible shock waves.

The world froze for a moment.

Then—

BOOM!!

A massive mushroom cloud burst skyward, its heat waves rippling outward in circular rings that pulverized mountain peaks into dust.

Waves of dust filled the heavens, blanketing the entire back mountain and reaching even the nearby 1st Division.

"Hmph, mere Yamamoto, nothing special!" Seeing his opponent's Reiatsu recede, Akira declared arrogantly, "Today I shall overthrow you and claim that Captain-Commander's seat!"

Yet from within the rolling dust, a charred shadow emerged — Genryūsai, completely unscathed.

Before Akira could react, an old fist crashed into his abdomen.

He let out a pathetic wail, plummeting from the sky like a meteor and smashing into the ravaged ground, creating a crater tens of meters deep.

"Yama-jii, you fight without honor..."

Akira's trembling hand pointed skyward at his opponent, but as the old man's Reiatsu crashed down, he blacked out instantly.

Looking at the fallen figure, a trace of helplessness crossed Genryūsai's weathered face.

He gazed at the charred and cracked blade in his hand, flowing like lava, heaved a deep sigh, and the helplessness vanished — replaced by a hint of satisfaction.

This troublesome disciple...

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Thanks to the inscribed Kaidō patterns, Akira didn't respawn at the revival point — the 4th Division Coordinated Relief Station.

The old man's final punch hadn't been too severe; Akira merely remained unconscious for less than half a day before coming to on his own.

He remembered it clearly: Yama-jii had been holding a charred black blade — undoubtedly Zanka no Tachi (Longsword of the Remnant Flame) with all flames sealed within.

In other words, to maintain his position as Captain-Commander, the old man had fought dishonorably by using Bankai to ambush someone as young as him.

"Bankai..." Akira pondered thoughtfully.

Finding Genryūsai absent from the 1st Division, he slipped into the tea room and snagged two roasted sweet potatoes plus afternoon tea, barely filling the emptiness in his heart.

After bidding farewell to Chōjirō, he strode vigorously from the barracks.

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11th Division. Loyalty Hall.

Akira sat cross-legged in the chief seat, regaling everyone with his vivid account of the battle of the century.

In his telling, he had transformed into an invincible demon god, beating Genryūsai until he was covered in wounds and utterly helpless.

"Ribbit, as expected of our beloved Commander!"

"Sweeping aside Yamamoto, dominating Soul Society!"

"Commander is invincible, unstoppable!"

"Our King is mighty and strong!"

The crowd below cheered with such enthusiasm they nearly blew the roof off.

But at that moment, an untimely comment disrupted the atmosphere.

"I heard our Captain actually lost? The Captain-Commander beat him senseless until he collapsed unconscious and coughed up three bowls of blood!"

As these words rang out, the Loyalty Hall fell into dead silence. Everyone looked around bewildered, searching for the speaker of such heresy.

Despite their united efforts, they couldn't identify who had spoken against the grain.

In the crowd, Kisuke, seeing his scheme succeed, grinned and stepped back, preparing to slip away from this troublesome place.

However, just as he took one step back, he bumped into what felt like a wall with a bang.

His heart skipped a beat, his heartbeat becoming erratic.

When he turned around, he met Akira's demon-like gaze.

"Kisuke, where are you going?"

At this moment, Kisuke looked like a lost child, his face ashen, his mouth trembling, unable to utter a word.

Finally, after struggling to speak, he managed, "Captain, I've contributed to the Eleventh Division, risked my life for your cause! Considering this is my first offense..."

Before he could finish speaking, Akira grabbed him by the collar and walked toward the 11th Division's back mountain.

"The Lieutenant sure is brave."

"Indeed, Lieutenant Urahara is incredibly brave. How many people would dare provoke the Captain like that?"

"Honestly, true."

Watching the two figures disappear, the warriors could almost see the star of death rising above Kisuke's head.

Farewell, Mr. Urahara, we'll remember your contributions to the 11th Division — you'll live forever in our hearts...

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After thoroughly beating Kisuke, Akira's mood instantly improved.

"Kisuke, prepare two more Tenshintai."

Kisuke raised his head while grimacing, a flash of surprise in his eyes. He didn't say much, just nodded in agreement.

At this point, they were like grasshoppers tied to the same rope.

However, he didn't regret his previous decision. Although following Akira meant occasional beatings, he could still feel his Captain's sincere treatment overall. The occasional horseplay even helped relax his nerves, tense from long periods of research.

Even with the physical pain, it was worth it.

Since materials were abundant, Kisuke quickly prepared the new Tenshintai.

Knowing that using the Tenshintai always caused a major disturbance, they again chose the Rukongai as their location.

Draw sword, strike!

When cracks appeared on the Tenshintai and ink-like shadows flowed out, the materialized Kūkan Mukai appeared again in the empty wilderness.

Greeting it was a black fist that filled the world.

Boom!

A meteor streaked across the sky, slamming into the mountain peak at the horizon. As dust billowed everywhere, the mountain crumbled with a thunderous rumble.

Kisuke's mouth twitched.

He knew his Captain was stronger than before, but hadn't expected such overwhelming power.

Previously, he could fight the materialized Kūkan Mukai for extended periods. Now he could defeat it with a single strike.

Akira's right foot stomped hard, splitting the ground with countless fissures. When the rumbling subsided, his figure had already vanished toward the horizon.

Through the dust, he could be seen seizing the Kūkan Mukai's shadow and delivering a bone-crushing blow.

After several rounds of relentless strikes, a vast white light enveloped him. His consciousness grew hazy, and once again he found himself in that endless starry sky.

The two massive celestial bodies — one black, one white — still hung there, locked in their eternal gravitational dance.

He attempted to approach, but like before, the scene began to blur before he could reach the planet's atmosphere. After a moment of disorientation, he returned to reality.

Akira sat there, deep in contemplation.

This test confirmed his suspicion: the black chains connecting the planets were indeed the Kūkan Mukai.

After all, using the Tenshintai had restored his ability to use Bankai.

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

Yet one question remained: he couldn't verify whether the planets were truly Hell and the Sangai — his earlier theory remained unproven.

After brief consideration, Akira abandoned his musings and grabbed the final Tenshintai, striking without hesitation.

Another round of calculated strikes sent his consciousness back to the starry expanse. This time, instead of approaching the celestial bodies, he attempted to explore the surrounding space.

But like before, the experience was fleeting.

"Any findings?" Kisuke asked.

Regarding the secrets of the Kūkan Mukai, Akira had shared everything with him.

As one of the five special war powers chosen to counter Yhwach, Kisuke may have seemed carefree, but he proved invaluable when it truly mattered.

Above all, he was principled — though in the strictest sense, he aligned with lawful evil.

Akira shook his head, exhaled deeply, and decided to visit Hell to work off his frustration.

Now that he had finally reached Rank 1 Reiatsu, how could he resist showing off the fruits of his rigorous training?

The Hell gateway materialized, surrounded by surging waves of black and red energy that twisted reality itself.

In a flash, Akira vanished from sight and plunged through the portal.

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Hell, in the gloomy sky above.

The gateway opened without a sound as a righteous figure wreathed in scorching black flames made his dramatic entrance.

But instead of the familiar giant-like Kushanāda, Akira found himself facing massive pure white spheres, each bearing blood-red maws filled with enormous teeth.

Black light crept across the sky below, spreading like a virus...

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