Chapter 216 – 216 ⥤ The Older They Get, The Less Honor They Have

“I see.”

Though those were Its words, seeing Akira’s completely clueless expression, Mimihagi knew that what It had just said might as well have been meaningless.

Who had this kid learned such baseless confidence from?

When they first met, he had been so wary of the outside world, treating any kindness as ulterior motives. After being raised for less than a hundred years, had this kid already discarded all his survival instincts from the Rukongai?

“Actually, the details and principles aren’t important.” Akira said with a grin, “What matters are the execution methods and results. First, because of Kuruyashiki, the First Level of Hell collapsed, and Hell entered an era of great chaos — Togabito running rampant and evil spirits everywhere. If this continues, these negative circumstances will affect the Sangai, ultimately leading to the end of the world.”

Mimihagi remained silent, Its single eye calmly watching Its foolish child.

Akira peeled a roasted sweet potato and handed it to his Boss, then peeled another for himself. These sweet potatoes weren’t ones he had drawn by chance, but ones he had swiped from Yama-jii’s furnace. Both taste and texture were first-rate.

After retirement, Genryūsai could definitely set up a sweet potato stand and sell roasted sweet potatoes full-time — he’d absolutely rank among the wealthiest in Soul Society.

Breathing out hot air, Akira continued, “There is a solution now, but it requires sacrifice and dedication. For instance, if you, Boss, fell into Hell, you could use your Eye’s power to repair the damaged Hell while working with me to strip away Hell’s power. It sounds like killing two birds with one stone.”

Mimihagi glanced at the sweet potato wrapped in shadows — crispy outside, tender inside, with an enticing sweet aroma.

After falling into Hell, it would probably be hard to taste something like this again, right?

It clearly understood Its duty and the meaning of Its existence. Actually, without Akira, Jūshirō Ukitake wouldn’t have been a bad choice either. Since they would all fall into Hell eventually, It might as well take the initiative, which would save a lot of trouble.

“But I disagree.” Akira finished his sweet potato and said with a serious expression, “The reason is simple. First, as the deity of the Sakahone Shrine, abandoning your duties to protect believers — what kind of god does that make you? Second, I have a better way.”

Hearing these words, some movement finally appeared in Mimihagi’s single eye.

“A way…” A chaotic, disordered tone rang out, the voice creating echoes that reverberated through the empty room.

“Look here, Boss — all humans are born with two hands. Even the mighty Soul King is no exception. Since you’re the right hand, there must be a left hand, right?” Akira spread his hands and explained, “As it happens, I know where the left hand is. Why don’t we use the left hand to replace the right hand? In my humble opinion, Little Righty is more important.”

After these words, the empty room grew even more silent, and Mimihagi’s single eye became increasingly indifferent.

Tree-like shadows silently covered the entire small dark room, and web-like Reiatsu enveloped Akira’s body.

“I advise you not to do this. Although Yama-jii keeps shouting about killing me, once conflict and battle break out between us, he will definitely stand firmly on my side.” He calmly said, “Although your initial intention is for the sake of this world, I won’t stand by and watch someone I know sacrifice themselves. Since there’s a way, how do we know it won’t work if we don’t try? Besides… I already have a perfect countermeasure.”

A light of wisdom flickered in his eyes.

In the empty room, a heavy sigh sounded, and the shadows receded like the tide as Mimihagi chose to yield.

It naturally knew where the Soul King’s left hand was, and precisely because of this, It didn’t want Its priest taking such risks. It had even considered forcibly detaining him.

But Its foolish child’s determination wasn’t easily shaken. Most importantly, given Akira’s current strength, It truly couldn’t keep him here without alerting others.

After all, It was just a right hand, not the main body.

After a moment of silence, the chaotic, disordered voice slowly rang out:

“Life… safety… first…”

Seeing this, Akira grinned, his face full of confidence.

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“Sōsuke, good brother! You can’t just watch me die!”

Hearing this embarrassing cry for help, Aizen’s hand trembled, nearly ruining the soul extract he had just collected. Veins bulged slightly on his forehead as his blood pressure rose, showing his respect.

Although he had spent most of his time recently in Las Noches, he hadn’t missed any of Akira’s “heroic deeds.”

It wasn’t that he cared much about this guy — it was just that the commotion he caused was too flamboyant.

The moment he inscribed the Kurohitsugi patterns, he went to face off against Genryūsai, grandly naming it “reversing heaven’s principles”, challenging authority.

Actually, he was just itching for a fight.

Then he broke through to Rank 1 Reiatsu during battle, joining the ranks of Soul Society’s top powerhouses.

But even then he wouldn’t stay quiet. Not only did he break into Hell again to fish, but he also fought with Kenpachi Kuruyashiki, who had nearly joined the Zero Division.

After that, he destroyed one level of Hell…

Aizen rubbed his deeply furrowed brow, trying to smooth it out to look less troubled.

“Tell me, what is it now?”

Akira pulled out a nearby chair, sat down, took several deep breaths, cleared his throat, and — while his friend’s eye corner twitched uncontrollably — detailed his conversation with Mimihagi.

“That’s how it is. As humans, we need to have a conscience. I figure having an elderly, frail boss serve Hell isn’t quite right, so… Sōsuke, do you have any way to turn me into a Quincy?”

Aizen’s brow furrowed even deeper as he asked in confusion, “Why become a Quincy? What connection does this have with the Soul King’s left hand?”

Akira clapped his hands, suddenly realizing, “I almost forgot to mention. Actually, it’s because this million-year-old baldy had no honor — to deceive and ambush someone just a few thousand years old. And for this, he used the Soul King’s left hand.”

The story goes back to a thousand years ago, when Yhwach had negotiations with Ichibē Hyōsube.

Considering factors like world stability, Ichibē suggested signing a non-aggression treaty between Soul Society and the Lichtreich.

The world would be managed by the Shinigami, while the Quincy would only need to focus on making the Lichtreich prosper.

However, the hot-blooded young man refused to heed the elder’s advice, leading to an ambush by the dishonorable Ichibē.

The Soul King’s left hand sealed away Yhwach’s The Almighty.

From that day forward, Pernida Parnkgjas aligned with the Lichtreich.

After hearing his story, Aizen remained silent.

Sometimes, he wondered if cracking open Akira’s skull would reveal a brain or just muscle. Based on experience, he suspected the latter.

But even if it was all muscle, shouldn’t there be at least a spark of reason?

A Shinigami Captain becoming a Quincy to infiltrate the Wandenreich and sweet-talk the Soul King’s left hand with supposed acting skills and wisdom?

Not even fiction writers would dream up something so absurd! And Akira had only the audacity, without a shred of wisdom!

Aizen had no desire to entertain such nonsense.

Even if they managed to enter the Schatten Bereich (Shadow Area), the Quincy would discover Akira immediately, leading to endless battles.

Should Yhwach awaken during that time, annihilation would be certain — not even leaving remains to recover.

“Though my son is foolish, may he live as long as a tortoise.” He refused to watch this fool rush to his death.

“I can’t help you. I don’t know how.” Aizen said firmly, “I have other work. Please leave.”

Akira’s eyes widened as he stared at his only close friend, “How can you be so cold?”

Aizen shot him a sidelong glance, “It’s not coldness — it’s common sense. If you’d think before speaking, you’d see how ridiculous your request is. Never mind entering the Wandenreich — a Shinigami gaining Quincy powers is impossible. Quincy fight by manipulating Reishi. What would you use? Those bulging muscles of yours?”

Akira replied without missing a beat, “That’s exactly why I came to you! Look, I already have the Blut that marks pure-blooded Quincies. How hard can manipulating Reishi be?”

As he spoke, he demonstrated his Blut abilities.

⤫ Blut Vene ⥤ Stilled Blood Guise! ⤬

Branch-like patterns emerged on his body, weaving complex designs.

Aizen fell silent. The scene before him defied logic.

A Shinigami Captain — a pillar of Soul Society — displaying abilities unique to Quincy. The world grew stranger by the day.

Despite researching Akira countless times, he couldn’t trace the source of this power. He could only attribute it to that mysterious Zanpakutō, Kūkan Mukai.

Through his continued association with this musclebound fool, Aizen found his understanding of reality constantly challenged. Just when he’d accepted one impossibility, Akira would present something even more outlandish.

It was as if his very existence was meant to shatter common sense.

While Aizen stood dumbfounded, Akira persisted with his endless persuasion. He droned on about “if not me, then who will enter Hell” and “for the sake of all living things” — like a relentless fly buzzing by one’s ear, refusing to quit until achieving its goal.

A sincere heart wins sincere feelings.

In the end, Aizen yielded to his friend’s request.

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Soul Society, Rukongai.

Underground laboratory.

Aizen and Kisuke calmly discussed the experimental details.

In their view, the Quincy fighting style was remarkably simple — merely absorbing Reishi from the air.

This could be achieved through spiritual tools. Even Szayelaporro could create such devices with ease. Under Aizen’s guidance, he could fashion these tools into biological limbs for implantation. After all, Las Noches’s pink-haired scientist specialized in biotechnology.

The real challenge lay in disguising Akira’s identity.

“The simplest method.” Aizen said coldly, “Would be to kill a group of living world Quincy, extract their bloodline, and implant it into Akira’s body.”

Kisuke frowned, “A Captain wouldn’t approve of this — even Kurotsuchi wouldn’t go that far.”

From the corner, Akira raised his hand, “Why not ask the brilliant Kurotsuchi-san? He’s been researching Quincy for ages.”

Indeed, when he had joined Senjumaru’s research group, Mayuri was already conducting experiments on Human World Quincy.

Aizen and Kisuke exchanged glances.

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Shortly after, Mayuri arrived at the Rukongai laboratory.

Seeing the luxurious penthouse, his face twisted with betrayal. After all his dedication to the 11th Division’s research, these people had been conducting experiments behind his back.

He shot Kisuke a disgusted look, “Nauseating fellow.”

Kisuke: “…”

Indeed, anyone who associated with Akira seemed to become peculiar.

“Shinigami, Quincy.” Mayuri mused, examining the topics on the paper, “Cross-species transformation? The core issue lies in the soul!”

Living up to his reputation as a Quincy research specialist, he quickly proposed various suggestions and research directions.

After extensive data analysis, theoretical speculation, and practical verification.

Mayuri frowned, spreading his hands in resignation, “So after all this research… we discover the Captain could handle it himself?”

Kisuke nodded, wearing an odd expression, “Not entirely — the appearance still needs disguising.”

Aizen shook his head, recognizing his oversight. He hadn’t noticed during his previous research.

A Shinigami’s soul essence manifested externally as their Zanpakutō. If the wielder was extraordinary, so too would be their blade.

Perhaps due to long-term worship of Mimihagi, Kūkan Mukai had been contaminated with some of the Right Arm’s power. By simply activating that power, Akira could transform into the purest of Quincy.

The principle was quite simple: Yhwach called himself the Soul King’s son, and his power was intricately connected to the Soul King.

Additionally, the activation of Kidō closely resembled the Quincy fighting style — both relied on manipulating external Reishi. Thanks to the Kidō patterns inscribed on him, Akira could bypass the complicated process and make Kidō release instinctively.

After hearing their explanation, Akira narrowed his eyes, extended his right hand with fingers spread, and using his Reiatsu as a medium, attempted to absorb Reishi from the air.

The next moment, a sword woven of lightning and fire appeared in his palm.

Success.

Seeing this, Kisuke’s expression was somewhat peculiar, “Now all that’s left is how to enter the Shadow Area.”

Akira grinned., “Don’t worry about that. Yama has his own clever methods!”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep