[Half an Hour Later, First Division, the Captain-Commander's Room]
The air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood, mixed with a barely perceptible smell of blood.
"Go on. Tell me exactly what happened that could drive you into looking like such a miserable stray dog."
Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni sat cross-legged on the tatami. He did not even lift his head, speaking in a flat, unruffled tone.
Though he acted domineering, he was not a senile old fool.
The look Kyoraku Shunsui wore right now, that utterly shaken state, eyes filled with panic and self-doubt, was something he had never seen in his disciple for hundreds of years.
Clearly, while he had just been fighting Unohana, something had happened that was enough to completely overturn this disciple's understanding of the world.
"Old man, I can't explain things to you right now! Please tell me immediately how to get to the Royal Palace!"
Kyoraku Shunsui jerked his head up. His usual flippancy was gone without a trace, replaced by an unprecedented seriousness and urgency.
After experiencing that kind of "desperate, voiceless shouting" just now, he had developed an extreme sense of distrust toward the world.
Seeing was no longer believing. Hearing was false as well.
He had even begun to doubt whether the teacher sitting in front of him right now might be another illusion created by Aizen.
Faced with Kyoka Suigetsu's utterly unreasonable, rule-level ability, the only way he could think of to break the deadlock was to rely on a power on a higher level.
The Royal Palace.
In the face of an absolute gap in spiritual pressure, even Kyoka Suigetsu should no longer have any effect.
"Answer my question."
Yamamoto Shigekuni lifted his eyelids slightly. His tone remained calm, even carrying a hint of coldness.
"The bunch in the Royal Palace who only watch the show and never lift a finger are not necessarily your lifeline."
As he spoke, that calloused palm of his lightly rested on the hilt of Ryujin Jakka at his side.
Boom!
In an instant, an incomparably rigid and blazing spiritual pressure, scorching like the midday sun, surged up without warning from his battered body.
This pressure instantly broke through the limits of an ordinary captain-class. It was a spiritual pressure domain that belonged to him alone.
Even though his base spiritual pressure was limited by the natural ceiling of a Shinigami and could not truly break past that boundary, with the amplification of this oldest fire-type Zanpakuto, he could still touch that awe-inspiring realm at the very top just beneath the divine.
Even those people from Squad Zero would not dare say their spiritual pressure could surpass his at this moment.
In the blink of an eye, the entire room seemed to turn into a furnace.
Although in his current state this burst could only be maintained for a short while, it was still more than enough to calm the skittish, frightened disciple before him.
Feeling that suffocating yet incredibly familiar heat around him, Kyoraku Shunsui's taut nerves did not immediately relax.
With a grave expression, he stepped forward twice, until he reached out and his fingertips truly touched the scorching scabbard.
The real tactile sensation, and the domineering exchange of spiritual pressure transmitted through his fingertips.
Only then did the heart that had been hanging in midair finally settle completely.
The five senses could deceive the brain, but direct perception of spiritual pressure did not lie.
The one sitting before him was indeed his teacher, the strongest Shinigami standing at the very pinnacle of their kind.
And within this vast, sunlike field of spiritual pressure, even if Aizen himself were to arrive, he absolutely could not maintain such delicate illusions and would inevitably reveal himself.
"Old man..."
Kyoraku Shunsui let out a long breath, as if finally setting down a burden weighing thousands of pounds.
Then he laid everything out in full detail. Aizen's terrifying ability, the "social death" he had suffered just now on the ruins, and the monster-level combat power displayed by Kurosaki Masaki.
After finishing his account, a bitter smile appeared on Kyoraku Shunsui's face, his tone carrying a trace of complaint.
"Teacher, what you did to Tosen Kaname just now was a bit too extreme. Acting without caring about right or wrong like that will probably make the other captains completely lose heart."
"Hmph! Ignorant."
After hearing his disciple's accusations, Yamamoto Shigekuni showed not the slightest hint of regret. Instead, he raised his brow and let out a cold snort filled with disdain.
"Fool! If that Aizen's ability is truly as unsolvable as you say, able to freely manipulate others' five senses and even their perception, then tell me, no matter how fair and upright this old man acted at the time, no matter how kind and benevolent, what meaning would any of it have inside the illusion he created?"
"Th... this...", Kyoraku Shunsui faltered, then argued, "But at least, if we weren't so domineering, the public opinion afterward would sound better. We'd also have a better chance of winning over those wavering captains, wouldn't we?"
"Public opinion? Winning people over?"
Yamamoto Shigekuni slowly opened those cloudy yet sharp eyes, as if he had heard an enormous joke.
"Kyoraku, you are still too naive. No matter how many mosquitoes gather together, what threat can they pose to the blazing sun?"
He slowly stood up. Though he was grievously injured, the aura he gave off at that moment seemed never to have aged.
"Back then, when this old man charged into Seireitei alone, facing those old nobles and unruly villains, the situation was thousands of times worse than it is now! When have I ever relied on a good reputation? I relied on the sword in my hand, carving out a path straight to the heavens with slaughter!"
To this old man who had stood at the summit of Soul Society for a thousand years, the current situation, though troublesome, was still far from a dead end.
"This still isn't bad?"
Kyoraku Shunsui's eyes went wide, his face full of disbelief.
What kind of top-tier understanding was this?
Internally, there was Aizen, the ultimate mole who had been lurking for a hundred years. Externally, there was Kurosaki Masaki, an unreasonable monster.
Even Unohana had defected, and Rosse was still relentlessly pressing them.
Given enough time, who knew what the Gotei 13 would turn into. The two of them, master and disciple, might even end up being driven out of their own home.
"What are you panicking for?"
Yamamoto Shigekuni glanced at him, sat back down, and spoke with the seasoned calm of someone who had seen it all.
"Rosse, and Unohana as well, they have no reason to follow Aizen or the Hollow King's Palace. What they want is nothing more than power over Soul Society."
Even with limited intelligence, he still made his judgment based on instinct and experience.
"That Rosse is probably after the authority this old man holds in this position. As for Unohana, Rosse most likely promised her some kind of unlimited freedom that this old man cannot give, or rather, the thrill of slaughter."
At this point, a complicated look flashed through Yamamoto's eyes.
He believed he understood Unohana.
A thousand years ago, when he suppressed that first-generation Kenpachi who killed without restraint and brought her under his command, he had relied not on charisma, but on pure martial suppression, forcing shackles onto her.
As for making her the captain of the Fourth Division to heal and save lives, that had been his suggestion to Kirinji, having him teach Unohana kaido.
Because only in that way could Unohana's nearly uncontrollable killing intent be somewhat restrained.
If Rosse truly could remove those shackles and promise her real freedom, then Unohana turning to Rosse's side was only natural.
Compared to him, a strict and rigid old master, a younger and stronger new leader who perhaps indulged her more was obviously far more appealing.
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