In Soul Society, love and bond begin

No wonder everyone looked at him with such strange expressions when they first saw Cheng holding the socks.

However, just as the girl was muttering to herself, she suddenly seemed to remember something and abruptly picked up the tabi in her hand.

Like an enemy.

Saito first carefully placed the tabi on the tatami, then picked it up with his fingers, turned it over, and observed it carefully.

Just looking at its clean appearance, it must have been carefully cleaned long ago. The fabric is clean and soft, without any strange marks.

When I got a little closer, there was no strange smell.

This information was completely inconsistent with the "strange hobby" he had painstakingly learned from his subordinates in the team.

As Saito Bulaobusi was thinking, he suddenly seemed to think of something and raised his eyebrows subconsciously.

"Ok?"

......

On the other side, after the meeting.

The old man didn't take the matter between Unohana and Fujimiya Makoto to heart.

In other words, the penalties against the two of them were not serious at all, but were just to temper their tempers a little.

Compared to this little thing,

The news about the Spirit King's son was actually more worthy of his attention.

only......

"If he is the son of the Spirit King, how could he be born in this world?"

Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni recited softly, his eyes still browsing the detailed history of the Kuchiki family in his hand.

However, from beginning to end, I have never seen an incident similar to this one.

Compared to the so-called Son of the Spirit King, there are countless "rebels" like him, which is not surprising at all.

He pondered this deeply in his heart and turned to Quebu beside him:

"Choujiro, bring me the Soul King Scroll."

"Yes."

When Quebu appeared again, he had a small scroll in his hand.

However, when Yamamoto reached out to pull it open, the page he pulled out was wide and long.

He picked up his pen and wrote a few sentences on the paper. When the ink dried, he nodded slightly and closed the paper again.

After reporting the incident to his superiors, Old Man Yama began to give instructions for the remaining matters. "Suzoube, after the Kidou clan has closed the spatial rift, do not let them stop. Order them to quickly begin constructing corresponding underground shelters in multiple locations throughout Seireitei. The basement of the Shinō Spiritual Academy is a key priority, and no carelessness is allowed."

Suzu Chojiro was startled when he heard this, and subconsciously frowned and said, "Master Genryūsai, the situation in this world... has it become so critical?"

Yamamoto shook his head calmly: "I don't know either."

"only......"

"Since it's related to the Spirit King, it's best to be cautious."

The expression on Quebu's face suddenly became serious.

It seems that Master Genryūsai is also unsure?

The former Quebu thought that Master Yuanliuzai had reached the pinnacle of this world.

But for some reason, in recent years, there is always an illusion that some strong people are gradually becoming worthless, which makes people feel a little depressed.

At this time, even someone as mentally strong as Suzube could not help but envy Fujimiya Makoto's talent.

"If I had Makoto's strength and talent..."

But when I thought of the end, I couldn't help but sigh.

Yamamoto caught a glimpse of Suzube's expression out of the corner of his eye, but instead of trying to comfort her as he did in the past, he just watched quietly.

Many obstacles in this world can only be overcome by yourself.

......

"Oh—yeah—"

A soldier from the Hyoshubu Department was half-lying on a chair in the main hall of his own palace, sighing as if he was quite tired.

"There have been quite a few things that have happened in the past few hundred years."

He stretched out his hand and moved it forward, and an identical Spirit King Scroll flew into his hand.

After just reading the first line of words, the fat monk's tired pupils suddenly disappeared, and his eye sockets turned into pure white.

When he put down the Spirit King Scroll in his hand, he let out a low breath and murmured softly:

"The 'Wedge' lasted for millions of years."

"It's time to pay attention to maintenance and updates."

"Yhwach...?"

Chapter 127: War Horn

The sky was gloomy and dark clouds were gathering.

The heavy rain has not yet stopped, and the low air pressure makes people feel a little chest tightness.

The fire in the city has not yet been completely extinguished, and the surface of the ancient city walls is covered with charred marks.

Blood and debris mixed together in the mud, and were trampled by countless feet, forming a sticky, black mark that was difficult to distinguish.

However, compared to the outer city paved with mud, the towering Gothic castle in the center of the city has always remained spotless.

Or rather, someone wanted it to be like this.

On both sides of the castle gate, rows of Quincy spirit soldiers marched past in neat formations, their postures straight, with slight traces of blood still on the swords and spears in their hands.

At the front were two young men of similar stature but completely opposite temperaments.

The man on the left had a short red Mohawk haircut standing up high. With his hands in his trouser pockets, he turned his head nonchalantly and looked at the charred street in the distance.

A few years ago, his hometown and castle were also destroyed in such fire, right?

Buzby thought to himself.

In just a few years, he had become a candidate spiritual soldier of the Stern Cross Knights.

As long as there is enough power.

As long as he gets enough power from that man, he can...

Buzby thought of the man who had mercilessly destroyed his entire home. His expression remained indifferent, but his heart felt like a fire was burning.

Boiling.

However, just as he was lost in thought, he heard Hasward beside him suddenly stop where he was and raise his hand.

Then, the entire row of spiritual soldiers behind him stopped along with his movements.

"Hastwald?"

Buzby turned around subconsciously.

Although in his heart, he was the "big brother", but even he had to admit that Hasward's judgment was much sharper and more accurate than his most of the time.

The man with long, smooth golden hair stood still, his eyes closed and his brows slightly furrowed, as if he was confused about something.

Although he had obtained the title of 'Captain of the Spiritual Arms', the 'power' that this position could gain from Lord Yhwach was still too limited.

"Bazby."

Yuglan Hasward asked uncertainly, "Did you notice anything wrong?"

"what?"

Hearing Haswood's words, Bazby subconsciously raised his eyebrows and looked at him with some confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"I do not know."

Although Hasward said this, his tone became increasingly tense and alert, as if there was some invisible danger surrounding them that could take their lives at any time.

Looking at him like this, Buzby waved his hand in a relaxed manner: "Hastwood, you haven't been too nervous these days, have you?"

"Even if this is your first time killing so many people, you shouldn't look so weak!"

"If that doesn't work, there are still some hidden dangers in West City..."

However, before he could pretend to be a veteran and finish saying what he had heard from other people, he saw Hasward suddenly raise his head and look further away.

His eyes suddenly widened, his pupils constricted, and he subconsciously opened his mouth.

"This is...?!"

It was the first time that Buzby saw Haschwald so shocked. His attention was instinctively caught and he looked in the direction Haschwald was looking.

However, the sky remained gloomy, and the dark clouds overhead showed no sign of dispersing.

"How on earth..."

Before Buzby could finish his words.

"Plop! Plop!"

The tough spiritual soldiers behind him who had experienced the entire city killing battle with them suddenly fell head over heels. Their consciousness was wiped out in an instant, and they fell to the ground one after another with dull sounds.

The next moment, even Buzby's head began to feel dizzy and his eyelids became heavy.

His body was swaying and he almost fell down.

"Bazby! Don't sleep!"

Hasward's harsh reminder suddenly rang in his ears, causing his whole body to tremble subconsciously. Fine beads of sweat suddenly squeezed out of his pores, and he felt cold.

Hasward beside him stood in front of him at some point.

Buzby lowered his head subconsciously.

He just happened to see Haschwalth's hand pierced by the dagger.

The pupils then constricted.

More than that.

Haswood, who was usually as emotionless and absolutely rational as an ice cube, suddenly began to tremble all over for some reason, even his other hand holding the knife was shaking.

Fear? Timidity? Chills?

What the hell is it?

Thoughts raced through Bazby's mind one after another, and his brain gradually became clearer. However, when he saw the large number of spiritual soldiers falling around him, he couldn't help but hate himself for not falling down instantly.

"What the hell is this?!"

He subconsciously shouted this sentence at the top of his voice.

However, the next second.

Haschwalth's back was reflected in Buzby's pupils.

His body stopped shaking.

However, at the same time, a fat monk over two meters tall was also reflected.

The monk was completely different from the priests that could be found everywhere in this small Eastern European country. His head was completely shaved, and he had a heavy, long black beard...

It's a race I've never seen before.

Barbarian shamans from the Black Continent? Or even further east than the Ottomans?

"You are very good."

"After you die, you should be able to become a good god of death."

"Huglen Haswood."