You are very strong, but my painting style is better than yours!

Did you know that the protagonist, Ichigo Kurosaki, learned Bankai in just a few days?

Do you know that a certain genius boy is known as the "strongest ice-type" and the youngest captain of the Thirteenth Division? His Zanpakuto is said to be comparable to Ryujin Jakka, but in the story, he is used to rack up battle achievements every day?

This is just from "Bleach." Iori hasn't even mentioned the bald demon king who has trained for three years, the strongest genin with invincible verbal skills, or the low-level Saiyan warrior whose combat power has skyrocketed from 100,000 to over 100 million—these monsters are not even mentioned yet!

These days, cheating is nothing new, and analyzing strength based solely on the setting is utter nonsense. After all, some people can be killed by a motorcycle even if they've activated Zi-O...

Iori had long realized that in this era where anti-routines are all the rage, neither bloodline nor destiny is reliable; only "class" will never lose its value!

Of course, some people might bring up examples like Gojo Satoru, Azir, Garp, and Sasuke, who have impressive character designs and great strength, but always inexplicably underperform.

But don't you see characters like Levi, Tsugikuni, and Isshin Ashina, who, even when disabled, old, or dying of illness, are greatly weakened in strength, still seem invincible?

The reason is simple:

When something reaches a certain level of sophistication, even the original author is helpless against it!

As someone with a unique art style, how could Iori be content with merely being called a "genius"?

He won't even stop at "Bleach"!

If he were truly content with a modest life, wanting to settle for a comfortable existence once he had some ability... knowing the plot, that would seem incredibly foolish.

Even in the early to mid-stages, captain-level powerhouses often suffered setbacks. Later on, an omniscient and omnipotent Yhwach appeared, wreaking havoc from the moment he appeared, fully capable of destroying the world—the kind of character that even the author's plot couldn't stop.

In the perilous Soul Society, Iori had long ago decided on her ambition to protect herself and her family:

We must establish our "art style" above the frost-covered sky!

Good looks, chuunibyou (adolescent delusions of grandeur), high-class style... whatever you call it, the supreme art style is the fighting power that will never lose its value!

Since our first destination is "Bleach," let's set a small goal first:

Its style factor surpasses "No Moon"!

-

Just as Iori was enjoying his bright future as usual, a commotion from nearby made him frown.

"It's so noisy," the boy said, looking over in dissatisfaction.

Yuki's faint smile gradually faded, replaced by a cold look with a hint of displeasure in her eyes.

The siblings had reached the entrance of the Shinigami Academy near the White Gate (one of the gates of Seireitei). This was supposed to be a place where trouble was not allowed, but some people still dared to make a fuss.

Several upperclassmen dressed in white-sleeved, baggy kimonos gathered at the entrance, divided into two groups, four against one.

The unpleasant sounds mainly came from the four people. They were aggressive and surrounded a dark-skinned student, seemingly threatening him. However, the student did not seem afraid and remained unmoved no matter how much the four people pressured him.

The siblings saw this scene, but they didn't stop walking. They strolled over leisurely, which naturally attracted the other's attention.

"what?"

The person with the gloomy face noticed something and turned around. When he saw who it was, his expression changed immediately. He was a little flustered at first, but then he tried to calm himself down. However, there was a trace of fear in the depths of his eyes.

"Tch... Alright, let's go!"

The other three noticed this as well, but their gazes only swept over Iori before settling on Yuuki's face. They quickly turned their heads away, their previous fierce expressions disappearing, replaced by some embarrassment.

Do you know him?

——Iori looked at Yuki.

Yuki shook her head indifferently: I don't know her.

Perhaps they had met, but Yuuki always treated people who had no talent and no value as nothing.

Before leaving, the leader glared at Iori and said, "Don't forget about tomorrow. Start sharpening your spears now, Aizen Iori!"

After saying that, he led the three away, and the student who had been surrounded by them was exposed.

It turned out to be a dark-skinned young man with his eyes closed, seemingly blind. His race was different from the mainstream of Soul Society, but his facial features were not bad-looking.

"It really is you, Tosen-senpai," Iori said, as expected. "Did you get into another conflict?"

This person is none other than Kaname Tosen, one of the future captains of the Gotei 13, but currently he is just an ordinary Shinigami trainee.

...I don't know how he, who is blind, managed to enroll in school.

Iori remembered the general plot, but she didn't know much about the characters' life experiences, since the original work didn't explain it much. So she didn't know if Tosen had entered the Spiritual Arts Academy at this point in time, or if he was Aizen's classmate in the original work...

But this is a world where Aizen can even be transformed into a woman, so of course the details can't be completely consistent with the original work. Why worry about so much!

"Good afternoon, Iori-san, Aizen-san."

Although he was blind, Tosen's other senses were very sharp, and he noticed Yuki even though she didn't say anything.

"Just got back from home? You must be tired. Thank you for what you did earlier, otherwise it would have taken much longer."

Tosen bowed to the two of them. As a senior student, he didn't need to be so polite to Iori, but he still acted very humbly and used honorifics.

"You're too honest, that's why you're stuck here. You should teach those kinds of people a lesson. After a few beatings, they'll learn their lesson."

Iori said with a mischievous look, "You know, outside the Spirit Arts Academy, these nobles are not to be messed with. Only here can we openly 'spar' with them. We can't miss this opportunity."

“Heh, Iori-kun is joking… Violence doesn’t solve problems, it only fuels conflict and hatred.” Tosen smiled calmly. “A friend of mine once said that mutual understanding between people is the most important thing.”

"Tosen-san's friend must be a very gentle person. I really admire that. I hope I can become that gentle in the future."

Yuhime spoke softly, with a smile, but a hint of sarcasm appeared in her eyes, indicating that her inner thoughts were completely opposite to what she said.

Iori was much more direct: "I agree, but there are many ways to understand each other. Communicating with fists is much more efficient than communicating with words!"

There's a conflict? Just beat them until they're completely convinced, and that'll solve the problem.

Do you know how Confucius persuaded people with reason?

Tosen shook his head and smiled. Although he didn't quite agree with Iori's words, he didn't refute them.

Despite being blind, he excelled academically among his peers and was known for his upright character, helpfulness, and willingness to defend younger students and classmates who were being bullied, which in turn offended many people.

Aizen and his sister were among the few "good people" he knew who possessed power but did not bully the weak, so Tosen had a good impression of them.

"Oh, right, that person just told you to prepare for tomorrow."

Tosen asked with some concern, "What is it? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, you can't help with this, and it's nothing serious, I just need to be careful with my strength."

Iori noticed Yuuki's probing gaze and then gave a half-smile.

"After all, it's quite difficult to put on a show just by crushing an ant."

Chapter 4: I'm afraid I might accidentally kill you.

Soul Society, Shinigami Academy, Thirteenth Dojo.

boom!

boom!

boom!

The sound of wooden swords clashing against each other was sometimes sparse and sometimes intense. The spiritual pressure fluctuations clashed secretly, and they struggled against each other like wild beasts. After a collision where they fought with all their might, the arena fell into a deathly silence for a moment.

In the spacious and flat dojo, students dressed in white dojo uniforms and black baggy pants sat in a circle, watching the changes happening in the dojo intently. Everyone had a serious expression, and some were even sweating.

The two swordsmen, one tall and one short, were not wearing any armor and each wielded a wooden sword.

The tall man appeared to be in his early twenties, with a masculine and upright face that exuded determination. His short, neat hair stood up like iron wires, and he had large hands and feet, long arms and legs, strong muscles, and a well-proportioned waist and back. Beneath his imposing appearance lay a powerful explosive force. If he were in the modern world, he would be a natural-born military general.

In contrast, the other person was much "thinner" and looked to be no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Although you could see muscle lines on his arms, his height and weight were not even in the same league.

Its only advantage might be its appearance.

The boy had a very handsome appearance, with a pair of deep black eyes beneath his slightly messy hair. His handsome features were still somewhat immature, but he possessed a composure that did not match his appearance.

The bright May sun, radiating intense heat, illuminated the boy's focused expression and the thin sheen of sweat on his skin, irresistibly drawing the female students' attention.

If it were Iori-kun, dying under his blade would surely be as beautiful as falling cherry blossoms—and other absurd thoughts like these began to surface.

At first glance, the two men in the arena stood motionless like statues, but upon closer inspection, one could see that the wooden sword swayed slightly with the trembling of their wrists. This was not due to exhaustion, but rather like a venomous snake searching for its prey's weakness.

The two of them took tiny, insignificant steps, adjusting their relative positions and angles little by little, constantly correcting themselves based on each other's movements, and never allowing their feet to leave the ground for too long.

— Strictly speaking, this was not a fair fight, because one of them had been studying kendo for four years and was one of the best among his peers, and was preparing to graduate early.

The other person was a freshman who had only been enrolled for a little over a year. Not only did he lack experience, but he also had a significant difference in height and wingspan.

Only those who have truly experienced real combat can understand the meaning of "millimeters," especially since the gap between the two has already become obvious.

However, no student stood up to stop this unfair competition.

There are two reasons: first, the challenger is risking his dignity as a senior, and second, everyone deep down believes that this is an evenly matched sword fight!

Just as Miyamoto Musashi used despicable means to defeat Sasaki Kojiro, yet he was still praised by people, because when facing such a dazzling opponent, the challenger must use all his wisdom and courage to bring out all his advantages in order to win!

Finally, the tall challenger couldn't hold back any longer:

When his "friends" asked him to help, they only said that Iori was a troublemaker who caused trouble everywhere because of his swordsmanship, and asked him to put this person in check.

But after a few rounds of fighting, he was certain:

Those bastards are talking nonsense!

If what they say is true, then Iori must be a restless brat who could never have such cold and composed swordsmanship!

However, now is not the time to dwell on those things; ending this battle as quickly as possible is the most important thing.

Despite the stalemate, he felt his movements were gradually following the other's, being led by them. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but it still made him feel uneasy.

Years of kendo experience told him that at this moment, there was only one way to break the deadlock.

"drink!!!"

A loud shout, like a thunderclap in winter, shook the eardrums, causing the surrounding students to tense up and their hearts to clench, as if they had encountered a hungry wild beast in the wilderness.

This is not just a simple shout, but also a technique of using spiritual pressure to intimidate the mind. If it were someone else in that situation, they would definitely not be able to hold back, either feeling panicked or rushing to take action!

But the boy disappointed his opponent. Even in the face of that powerful roar, his footwork remained unbroken, like a vast, boundless ocean that could not elicit a response no matter how much he vented his anger.

"drink!!!"

Finally, with another loud shout, the tall student stopped testing the waters and instead focused his energy and spirit, striking at the peak of his "sword momentum".

Upper Holding - Kasaya Slash!

Instead of choosing the "Tang Bamboo" attack from top to bottom, he opted for the "Kesa Slash" attack, which was a diagonal slash from right to left. This was not a strategic decision, but rather because his opponent had no weaknesses to exploit, so he chose the "form" he was most proficient in!

The powerful and heavy blow made one momentarily see a real sword; the combination of momentum and form was perfect, as if blood would splatter on the spot at any moment!

In that instant, as if a frame had been cut from a film, the boy, who had come later, unexpectedly stepped forward. His small stature slightly shifted to the side, and he lowered his stance, the wooden sword, sharp and menacing, slashing down with a swift, deadly motion, grazing his hair and sleeves. His hands, held at waist height, gripped the sword, and like a mantis slaying an insect, he calmly unleashed a lightning-fast strike—

Snapped!

Crouching low against the wind!

A straight upward slash cut through the skin and flesh beneath the ribs, and hot internal organs and fresh blood gushed out—

No, it's just a hallucination!

The students watching gasped in shock. Enveloped by the imposing aura, they almost thought they were witnessing a truly gruesome scene of flying flesh and blood.

"Well!"

Even though it wasn't a real sword, the direct hit from the wooden knife caused the tall man excruciating pain. The cracking sound indicated that his ribs were broken, but he didn't give up. Instead, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to suppress the pain.

With a few subtle adjustments of his hands, the wooden sword swung like a nimble falcon. Then, everyone heard three crisp sounds: "bang, bang, bang." The young swordsman was pressing his advantage, but the tall man parried the attack with a short-range deflection.

Judging by appearance alone, it would be hard to imagine that such a tall and mighty man could have such delicate swordsmanship.

However, those who know him well know that while he is skilled in large-scale, sweeping combat tactics, he is also adept at tachi (small dagger) techniques, making him a rather reserved and intelligent person.

Of course, this only temporarily slowed his decline and could not completely stop the attack of the young swordsman, Aizen Iori.

There's nowhere left to retreat!

Born into a prestigious family, Iba Tessamon had already realized that if he couldn't launch a desperate counterattack, he would have no hope of winning.

"drink!"

With practiced footwork and waist power, he turned around with accumulated momentum, and between the toes and heels, he instinctively switched to a sword stance for a desperate counterattack.

His body twisted, but his aura became even more fierce!