XX-level Hokage

That moment of intersecting light was more like two chess players who had been playing for a century, examining each other's moves one last time before making their final move. "It seems that Aizen-kun's throne as the King of Hueco Mundo is not very secure."

Mashiro broke the silence first, her voice carrying her usual languidness, with a slight upward inflection at the end, as if she were not there to attend a decisive battle that would determine the fate of the three realms, but rather passing through Hueco Mundo and taking the opportunity to visit an old acquaintance.

Her fingertips lightly traced a white bone pillar beside her, and subtle spiritual energy fluctuations quietly emanated from where her fingertips touched. Aizen's gaze shifted from Mashiro to the throne made of ethereal bones beneath him.

His calm face was reflected in the cold bone surface. He spoke slowly, his voice completely calm: "Compared to the true throne of heaven, the scenery here is indeed unremarkable."

He deliberately avoided referring to himself as "I," responding with an equal title—a hundred years ago, he knew that in front of Mashiro, any feigned arrogance and desire for control were nothing but a self-deceiving joke.

"Oh?" Mashiro stepped forward, her high heels clicking on the smooth, mirror-like floor, the sound particularly clear in the deathly silent hall.

Every step is like stepping on an invisible chessboard. "So, you finally understand? The so-called seat of power can never be held by strength alone."

Chapter 263: Her Own (Part 2)

A faint, self-deprecating smile played on Aizen's lips. He recalled Ichigo Kurosaki's "Mugetsu," a technique that severed causality, and the time he himself was transformed by the Hogyoku.

Shuan Kai, who had been unable to break through, finally saw the true source of Cheng Kai's talent at this moment.

“If it weren’t for Ichigo’s Mugetsu,” if it weren’t for the trump card you never revealed from beginning to end. He paused, and for the first time, a look of inquiry appeared in his deep eyes. “I’m afraid I would still be trapped in my own delusional dream. Mashiro-sensei, can you tell me? That Hogyoku you gave me, from the very beginning, was it bait to observe how high this caged bird could fly, right?”

“Barecloth?” Mashiro chuckled softly upon hearing the word. She walked to the area directly below the main seat, tilted her head slightly, and looked directly at Aizen on the throne. There was no mockery in her smile, only an almost pure calmness, as if she were analyzing an experimental subject. “No, Aizen-kun, you still misunderstand.” “That wasn’t bait, just a container.” Her gaze suddenly sharpened, as if it could pierce through the surface of a soul, reaching its deepest essence.

I just wanted to see—to what interesting extent—a soul brimming with possibilities could evolve when it completely merged with this vessel.

As she finished speaking, she gently shook her head, her gaze sweeping over Aizen's figure as if examining a work of art that had failed to meet expectations: "It's a pity that your capacity is still too small. You yearn to transcend the boundaries of the Shinigami, to evolve into a higher-dimensional being, but deep within your soul, you are always bound by the shackles of the Shinigami."

"What you are pursuing is not a true god, but merely a god of death with divine power."

These words were like a knife chilled to the bone, precisely piercing through all of Aizen's pretenses. The calm on his face shattered instantly, and his fingers unconsciously tightened.

A century of scheming, betrayal, evolution... all those things he thought were proof of "transcendence" suddenly became laughable self-imposed constraints in the face of this sentence. He opened his mouth, but found that something was stuck in his throat, and he couldn't make a sound.

A deathly silence descended upon the main hall once more, with only the occasional ethereal echoes emanating from the top of the Void Palace reminding us that this was not a deathly vacuum.

After a long while, Aizen finally found his voice, which carried a hint of barely suppressed urgency: "What about the Zero Division? What about the Spirit Master? Since you know this..."

"Tch, why didn't you ever think of replacing him? With your power and magnanimity, the position of Lord of Guan should have been easily within your grasp."

“Replace him?” Mashiro suddenly laughed when she heard this question.

That smile was no longer a lazy, playful one, nor a calm, scrutinizing one, but a compassionate, overlooking gaze—like a god watching ants fight tooth and nail over a stone, "Aizen-kun, your vision is ultimately too narrow."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice lower yet carrying a chilling edge capable of shattering any worldview: "Do you really think that so-called Spirit King is a god who reigns over the Three Realms?"

Aizen's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart skipped a beat. He instinctively wanted to retort, but Mashiro's next words froze him in place, making even breathing difficult.

“No.” Qi Bai’s voice was as cold as ice. “That thing is not a master, it doesn’t even qualify as a life.”

"It is merely a wedge—a wedge forcibly created by the First Shinigami after he cruelly removed the limbs, emptied the internal organs, and sealed all consciousness of the three fragile worlds of the Soul Society, the Human World, and Hueco Mundo."

She spoke each word slowly and deliberately, each syllable like a hammer blow to Aizen's soul: "A living person used to maintain the balance of the world." "Boom—!"

These words exploded in Aizen's mind like a thunderclap, his eyes widening in disbelief. His composure and calmness, which he had maintained for a century, crumbled completely at this moment.

The Spirit King... was he just a "human-rat"?

The "god" he spent a hundred years of his life, betraying the Soul Society, fusing with the Hogyoku, and challenging the entire Three Realms, was actually such an absurd and pathetic existence? All his ambitions, all his plans, all his sacrifices... at this moment, all of them became a huge joke.

What about... Squad Zero? His voice trembled almost imperceptibly, as if he were grasping at the last straw.

“Squad Zero?” Mashiro’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “They are not the guardians of the Spirit King,” they were merely a group of the most senior jailers. Their mission was never to protect the gods, but to ensure that the wedge would not break down—once the wedge collapses, the entire Three Realms will be destroyed.

Aizen was completely speechless.

He felt that his worldview, which he had held onto for a century, was crumbling and shattering little by little with Mashiro's casual words, eventually turning into a pile of unrecoverable fragments.

What he once thought were "truths" have now become shells of lies.

"So, do you understand now?" Mashiro looked at his dejected appearance, her eyes devoid of any pity, only a detached indifference as if she'd finally gotten her revenge. "Your so-called 'Great God' project was nothing but a meaningless farce from the very beginning."

"You don't even know who the real enemy is."

“The real… enemy?” Aizen forced out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable feeling like it was cutting his throat.

“Yes.” Mashiro nodded, her gaze seemingly piercing through the dome of Hueco Mundo and the barriers of time and space, seeing a terrifying being slumbering in the depths of darkness. “Beneath the seemingly peaceful surface of the Three Realms, there lies a true Son of God—a Quincy Lord who was sealed away by the Spirit King for a thousand years, yet has always been waiting to be revived.”

"His name is Yhwach."

Her voice carried a strange, lamenting quality, as if recounting a forgotten epic: "His purpose is similar to yours, yet entirely different. You want to become a god, while what he wants to do is to completely liberate the father, who has been used as a wedge, from eternal suffering—and then, to completely unite these three worlds, filled with fear and pretense, back to the original chaos where there was neither life nor death."

Aizen's body trembled violently, a chill running from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He finally understood.

He finally understood that the world he and Mashiro saw were never on the same dimension. What he saw was only the emptiness above the throne; while what Mashiro saw was the life and death of the entire Three Realms hidden beneath the calm.

The wind in the main hall suddenly grew colder, stirring Aizen's robes and Shiro's hair that fell over her shoulders.

After a long while, Aizen raised his head, his gaze fixed on Mashiro, his voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable: "And you, Mashiro-sensei?" "What is your true purpose?"

This is the answer he most wants to know, and also most fears to know.

Upon hearing this question, the divine sorrow on Mashiro's face gradually faded. She looked at Aizen, and for the first time, a familiar light appeared in her unfathomable eyes—a light identical to Aizen's: a yearning for a higher realm and an ambition for the unknown.

She slowly curved her lips into a smile, a smile carrying a chilling mystery. "My purpose...?"

"Actually, it's pretty much the same as yours." "It's just that..."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice carrying a hint of ambition that could shake the heavens and earth: "It's just a little bigger than yours." The moment her words fell, a tiny crack suddenly appeared in the dome of the Void Palace, and countless spiritual particles flickered like awakened fireflies.

Chapter 264: Mashiro VS Aizen (Part 1)

When Mashiro's words, "It's just a little bigger than yours," drifted like the softest feathers among the deathly silent thrones of Las Noches,

Something invisible, called "balance," has been completely shattered.

Aizen suddenly noticed that the deep brown light in Sosuke's eyes, which had just been clouded by the collapse of his worldview, had regained its brilliance. It was no longer the scheming of a conspirator, nor the desire of an ambitious person.

It was a kind of anger and pride that ignited after being utterly rejected and driven to the brink of despair—the purest, strongest kind of anger and pride. "Is that so?"

He spoke softly, his voice no longer hoarse, but instead incredibly clear and cold.

"Then let me see for myself." "Your so-called 'greater' throne!"

Before he finished speaking, his figure had already disappeared from the high seat without any trace of his spiritual energy or the sound of space tearing.

That was simply pure, absolute speed, exceeding the limits of the naked eye.

The next moment, a cold, ethereal sword light appeared before Mashiro like a ghost, aiming straight for her brow.

A mirage.

That Zanpakuto, the strongest genjutsu-type sword that once manipulated the entire Gotei 13, has now become, in Aizen's hands, the purest and most deadly weapon of slaughter.

However, faced with this deadly attack that would leave any captain unable to react, Mashiro's face still wore that calm, playful smile, as if he had already anticipated everything.

She didn't even draw her sword. "Clang—!"

A clear, crisp sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate, suddenly rang out in the deathly silent hall.

Aizen's seemingly inevitable sword strike was effortlessly caught by Mashiro's two slender, pale fingers. The scene was so absurd, yet filled with a suffocating, absolute disparity in power.

"You're too impatient, Aizen-kun." Mamoru's voice was as lazy as ever. "Your sword is in disarray."

Aizen's pupils contracted sharply. He could clearly feel an irresistible, mountain-like force emanating from Mashiro's seemingly...

A slender finger came and completely locked down his sword aura, which was infused with the power of the Hōgyoku and was powerful enough to cleave through the pass!

"!"

Aizen acted decisively, immediately releasing his grip on Kyoka Suigetsu and retreating rapidly like a ghost. However, Mashiro was even faster.

Just as he let go, Mashiro's fingers, which held the Mirror Flower Water Moon, flicked slightly. "Clang!"

The Mirror Flower, the Moon in the Water, a deadly blade that had once driven countless powerful figures to despair, was casually flicked away by Mashiro as if it were a toy discarded by a child.

The blade traced a graceful arc in the air before finally, with a "thud," embedding itself deeply into the hard, skeletal wall in the distance.

Meanwhile, Mashiro's figure, like bone, had already silently approached Aizen. "Your Hakuda is still so full of flaws."

Mashiro's voice, like the whisper of a devil, rang in Aizen's ears.

Then, a seemingly delicate, boneless, pale hand lightly touched Aizen's chest. "Bang—!"

A deep, resounding crash, like a battering ram striking a city wall, echoed throughout the entire hall!

Aizen's body was struck head-on by an invisible mountain. His powerful body, which had been fused with the Hogyoku and was strong enough to withstand forbidden-level Kido techniques, was instantly blasted away like a kite with a broken string under this seemingly casual palm strike.

"Boom!"

His body smashed through several massive bone pillars that supported the hall, and was eventually embedded deep into the wall at the end of the throne room, forming a huge human-shaped dent.

Smoke and dust filled the air, and gravel tumbled down.

The entire Void Palace seemed to tremble violently under the seemingly casual touch of that palm strike. A long while later, as the smoke and dust slowly dissipated...

Aizen's figure, swaying and staggering, struggled out of the humanoid depression.

His pure white robe, a symbol of "transcendence," was now slightly torn, and a trickle of golden blood, belonging to his evolved body, seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Incredulously, he looked up at the distant Mashiro, who still maintained a calm and composed demeanor. For the first time, a hint of... genuine, "shock" appeared in those brown eyes that were always filled with absolute confidence.

Whether it was Jian Wei or Bai Da, he was completely defeated.

"It seems that simple 'physical attacks' are no longer very effective against you now." Mashiro looked at the wound on Aizen's chest, which was rapidly healing under the power of the Hogyoku at a speed visible to the naked eye, and a knowing expression appeared on his face, like a scientist observing an experimental subject.

"So

A resolute glint flashed in Aizen's eyes. He knew that any attempt to test or hold back in front of this woman would only lead to humiliation. He slowly raised his right hand, his index finger pointing towards Mashiro in the sky.

"Hado No. 90: Black Coffin!" (No chanting)

There wasn't even any preparation!

That ultimate, uninvoking 90th Hado, capable of distorting space and time, was effortlessly created by Aizen! A massive, pitch-black coffin, radiating terrifying gravity, instantly formed around Mashiro.

Countless black, blade-like torrents of gravity surged from all directions toward Mashiro at the center, relentlessly squeezing and cutting. Yet, facing this absolute "black coffin" capable of utterly crushing any captain, Mashiro's face remained completely expressionless. She simply gazed silently at the pitch-black gravity space that enveloped her completely, and then, slowly, raised her hand.

"Choose your blocks! Zero White!" "Sea of ​​Time."

With her emotionless, lawless whisper, a spiritual pressure, as blue as the deepest ocean, silently spread outwards from her center.

That was not simply spiritual pressure, but an absolute law... capable of disrupting time.

The "black coffin," constructed purely of gravity, froze abruptly the moment it touched the azure expanse, as if a movie scene had been paused.

Those wildly spinning and cutting gravitational torrents froze completely at that moment.

Time, in this realm, fell into absolute stillness. "What?!"