In Soul Society, love and bond begin

"The last one, I'll help you get rid of it right away."

Hearing this, the boy's mouth was filled with blood and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed.

The girl was also quite honest. She cut off the head with one blow as she said.

The knife path is quite crisp.

I don’t know how many people’s heads were used to pave the way.

The girl shook off the blood on the knife, turned her head, and looked around proudly.

Compared to her, the movements of the young people standing in front of the rows of trees around her seemed less decisive.

On the branches of dozens of short trees along the road, all of them were hung people of all kinds wearing sackcloth - most of them were old people, a few young people who had not escaped, and quite a few children.

In the entire nearby village, most people, except for the young people who ran fast, were here.

Their miserable howlings were heard everywhere in the woods.

The men in brocade clothes standing in front of them mostly had the words "Asaemon" embroidered on their shoulders, and all had bands tied around their foreheads, and were "practicing" the art of beheading with serious expressions.

This ritual is called "Tsuji-slashing".

For the long-standing Harada Asaemon family, this is the only way to take over the family's position of "sword tester".

Originally, this ritual was used to "test the knife" and "inspect the knife".

However, ever since a new general joined the Soul King Palace over a thousand years ago and linked the god of death with the Asauchi, the tradition of nobles forging their own 'private Zanpakutō' and then 'testing' and 'promoting' them gradually disappeared.

To this day, only a few upper-class nobles such as Harada Asaemon and the Kasumigaoji family still retain the tradition of forging 'Zanpakutō embryos' and 'transforming Zanpakutō abilities' - for this reason, Asaemon naturally wanted to continue to pass down this 'sword testing' tradition, making it a simple practice of Zanpakutō within the clan.

For the Asaemon family, this is clearly a proud inheritance of a distinguished family background that has endured for a long time.

However, for the residents of Rukongai living in District 37, this is a sustainable massacre that will drain the pond of its resources to the point of exhaustion.

But, who cares?

As the upper class of nobles in Soul Society, second only to the five great nobles, everything within the entire Rukongai in West Thirty-seventh District belongs to the Harada Asaemon family.

Naturally, this also includes the residents of Rukongai who grow and grow like leeks.

No one cares.

Just as the traditional training of the Asaemon family was going on as it had been for thousands of years, a small group of a dozen people slowly walked towards the end of the path.

Someone was guarding the middle of the path, looking from afar. He saw that the small group of people on the opposite side were also wearing the standard black Shinigami uniforms of the Seireitei nobles, and became a little alert.

"Hey! Who are you!"

The Asaemon family set up a checkpoint in the middle of the road in the distance and shouted loudly in this direction.

Standing at the front of the team was a tall young man with a handsome appearance, his long hair tied up with a coarse cloth strip, and a sword with a broken sheath hanging around his waist.

The only thing worth noting is that for some reason, a pair of small-sized women's tabi with flowered hairpins were hung on his scabbard.

It smells nice and a little bit weird.

He heard the shout from the other side, spat out the grass roots in his mouth, and raised his chin to signal the person next to him.

Then, someone immediately shouted:

"We are from the Omaeda family in the 40th district and have come to deliver a message. The front line has been pushed back again. Excuse me, is that the Asaemon family ahead?"

As he spoke, the Grim Reaper took a few steps forward and raised a badge from his waist.

The three big characters "Omaeda" are written on it.

No one noticed that there was blood on the back of the badge.

The scout on the other side breathed a sigh of relief and replied:

"Exactly!"

"Please wait a moment, I will remove the barrier right away."

As they were talking, they saw a curved red flare slowly rising from the grove behind these people.

It is clear to see even in broad daylight.

"You!"

"Who didn't finish off the enemy this time?"

Fujimiya Makoto cursed angrily, turned his head behind him, and muttered dirty words.

The Grim Reapers behind him all shrank their shoulders.

The faces of the Asaemon clan members who were removing the barrier on the other side of the checkpoint all changed.

Red flares are a high-risk alert in Soul Society.

"Enemy attack!"

"Notify all tribesmen!"

Instantly, the guard behind the checkpoint, Asaemon, reacted immediately. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his face was twisted with intense fear. His hands gripping the knife were trembling, and even his voice became extremely sharp:

"The Yuanliu travel disaster is coming——!!!"

"kill!"

Fujimiya Makoto shouted and rushed to the front.

Behind him, dozens of Yuanliu Death Gods, as fierce as wolves and tigers, drew their swords and charged towards the checkpoint with roars and hisses.

There are still people behind the checkpoint who want to use the barrier to temporarily resist.

However, before they could input spiritual pressure into it, a fierce roar was heard in their ears:

"The Thirty-three of the Broken Paths: Blue Fire Falling!"

With a loud bang, a blazing stream of spiritual fire burst out from Fujimiya Makoto's palm. The expanding air, wrapped in a surging high temperature, engulfed everything, like a flaming hammer heavily smashing down on the fragile barrier in front of the checkpoint. The huge amount of spiritual pressure burst out with a terrifying impact force, and with a low roar, it directly shattered the entire translucent barrier.

Several members of the Asaemon clan who were blocking the checkpoint and preparing to input spiritual pressure were also swallowed up by the blazing fire, and the path seemed to have been gouged out of thin air by some giant beast.

Black ash floated on the entire charred ground.

Fujimiya Makoto didn't stop for even a moment, and rushed into the woods at an extremely fast speed.

The loud noise immediately woke up the young Asaemon clan member who was still undergoing 'slashing technique training'.

Hearing the sound of "enemy attack" from the checkpoint, these young people were all stunned at first, but soon, led by a few leaders who thought they had superb killing skills, they all became excited.

"He's just a Yuanliu bandit, nothing special!"

"Follow me and hold our ground here! We'll wipe them out in one fell swoop!"

"Today is the day to achieve success!"

The girl at the beginning stood in the crowd, holding a knife and shouting, her pretty face full of a light blush of excitement.

As one of the youngest and most powerful heirs in the family, Ninth-Rank Lingwei's strength has earned her a place among the family elders. Her status as the third candidate for the Sword Tester has made her the foremost leader among the young people in the family. What's the problem with her facing those unconventional travelers?

"That's right!"

"exactly."

The crowd was quiet for a while, but soon, many young people who were also confused about themselves began to shout along, forming gangs with great momentum and marching towards the direction where the bandits were attacking.

Dozens of people who were still in training formed a group, holding long swords, their bodies covered in blood, and strode forward.

How can one be so majestic?

Then, they ran head-on into a small group of people led by Fujimiya Makoto.

When the two sides met, they were both stunned.

"rush!"

The girl shouted and swung her sword, but she stood behind.

The young men with blood-stained clothes were all aroused by the excitement in their hearts, and they roared and rushed towards the team which was less than one-third of their size.

This was the first time that Fujimiya Makoto encountered a small group of noble troops that were advancing instead of retreating. Seeing that they were covered in blood and full of murderous aura, he thought that they were the elite troops of Seireitei who had just moved in, and subconsciously used all his strength.

He flashed and rushed to the front of the team like a bowling ball into a beer bottle, punching with all his might.

“One bone!!”

As soon as the fight started, several Asaemon boys who were in the front were met with this extremely ferocious punch, and were smashed into a large pool of rotten tomatoes spread out in a splashing manner.

Shattered!

The sudden shock stunned the young men who had just been full of murderous intent.

The girl standing at the back was completely clueless.

What followed was the usual chopping of melons and vegetables.

The "Sword Testers" and "Asaemon Beheaders" who were as ferocious as tigers when facing civilians were no different from lambs under the blows of the Asaemon who had truly experienced hundreds of battles and drank blood.

For a moment, the entire battlefield was filled with wails and pleas for mercy, even more tragic than those of the civilians hanging from the trees.

The color is sharp and the heart is full.

This is what the so-called aristocracy is like.

Chapter 34: Shiba

In a short while, all the members of the Harada Asaemon clan nearby were wiped out, without leaving a single one behind.

The remaining Genryu Shinigami were now busy untying the ropes on the civilians in the trees. Every Shinigami who saw this scene opened their eyes wide and their blood boiled - the vast majority of the Shinigami in Genjijuku were born in Rukongai, and the few who remained were illegitimate children ostracized by the nobles.

Because of this, they can empathize with the plight of these civilians.

But anger can't solve any problems.

No one in their team would reply.

Under such serious injuries, most of the rescued civilians died soon; it was just a matter of sooner or later.

Many of them even begged the Yuanliu Death Gods to give them a quick blow before they died, just to get rid of them quickly.

In this atmosphere, the whole forest seemed a little quiet.

All that remained was the dull sound of the Yuanliu Reapers with stiff faces, finishing off these civilians who were similar to them yet different.

Fujimiya Makoto didn't say anything, just watched silently.

It has been more than two months since we received the call-up order and started our mission.

Now, their team is acting as a vanguard, paving the way for the larger force led by Unohana Yachiru and others.

On this long journey from the 64th district to the 37th district of Rukongai, he has seen too many similar and different scenes.

My heart gradually became as hard as iron.

However, every time Fujimiya Makoto encountered such a situation, the words that the old man had said to him would ring in his mind:

'Just treat them as human beings.'

For modern people, it is a matter of course.

But for the Soul Society of a thousand years ago, it was simply outrageous.

"——We are a noble family that has been passed down for millions of years."

He had heard similar words so many times that his ears were almost callused.

Therefore, Fujimiya Makoto gradually realized how important what Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni was doing now was.

That old man was trying to drag Soul Society, which was still in the 'slave era', back to the 'feudal era' as much as possible.

It can be called a great achievement.

Just as I was lost in thought, I saw a short, edgy man, dragging a half-dead woman in a corset, approaching and shouting,

"Instructor Fujimiya! This woman said she has important information!"

Fujimiya Makoto glanced at the bruised woman on the ground and frowned, "Ryoma! I've told you many times, don't hold back on this kind of guy."

"Eh? But..."

Kuryashiki Ryoma is a short man with long, weed-like hair. He looks to be about eleven or twelve years old, at most a little older than Kiryu. The Shinha uniform he wears doesn't fit him well, and he often has to tuck the corners of his clothes into his drawstrings.