"How is this possible?"
Watching Satoru block his slash with just a single finger, Sōjun couldn't help but show a stunned expression.
Satoru gently pushed his sword away.
"Hey now, no need to be so surprised."
"Your swordsmanship is indeed strong, but at the last mont, you withdrew so of your strength."
"After all, I'm a third-rank Reiō. Blocking a slash like this shouldn't be that strange."
Hearing this, Sōjun's shock only grew.
"What? Third-rank Reiō?"
His eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Seeing his reaction, Satoru asked curiously, "How long has it been...? You haven't heard any news at all?"
He had revealed his third-rank Reiō status during Kensei Muguruma's captaincy examination ceremony.
News this big should have reached even ordinary Shinigami, let alone the Kuchiki family.
Hearing this, Sōjun instinctively replied, "I haven't received any outside news for a long ti... Every day has been nothing but training and battles, and no one told about these things..."
Suddenly, he snapped back to reality: "Wait, forget about that for now—Satoru, you're a third-rank Reiō now?!"
Third-rank Reiō—that's captain-level!
He had only been locked away for training for a few months, right?
Had he lost all sense of ti? Had over a decade passed outside?
Satoru chuckled smugly. "So? Can't help but want to worship your bro now?"
Sōjun: "..."
The sheer amount of information from Satoru's appearance left him at a loss for words.
Seeing his state, Satoru patted his shoulder.
"Relax, no rush. We've got plenty of ti."
"Co, sit and talk. Tell how you've been all this ti."
With that, Satoru plopped down directly on the grass.
His sitting posture wasn't the formal seiza, but rather a casual sprawl—one leg bent, the other stretched out, utterly comfortable.
Watching him, Sōjun froze for a few seconds before breaking into a smile.
This guy, even though it's been a long ti since we last t, is still the sa as before.
Seeing him so carefree and relaxed, I couldn't help but loosen up as well.
With a resigned sigh, Sōjun cast aside his noble deanor and plopped down on the ground beside Satoru.
Under the latter's gaze, he began recounting his experiences over the past days.
Truth be told, there wasn't much to say.
Ever since returning to the Kuchiki household, Ginrei had subjected him to rigorous training.
During these sessions, Ginrei would personally instruct him in combat techniques.
After that, it was all self-practice.
Throughout this process, Ginrei often sent elite officers from the squad to ambush Sōjun.
Under his strict orders, these seated officers struck with ruthless precision. At first, Sōjun hesitated to fight back with full force and ended up bedridden from the beatings.
But as ti passed, even this gentle soul was pushed to his limits.
Just like the slash he had aid at Satoru earlier, he now retaliated fiercely against every ambush.
Each ti he won, the next attack would be even stronger, forcing him to push himself harder.
Listening to Sōjun's story, Satoru couldn't help but click his tongue.
Harsh. Truly harsh.
Thank goodness old man Yamamoto wasn't this insane—otherwise, would he ever have a peaceful day?
As if guessing Satoru's thoughts, Sōjun smiled faintly.
"Satoru, don't think my father is being too cruel."
"As the heir of the Kuchiki family, the next head, I must grow stronger."
"If I can't stand on my own, the million-year legacy of the Kuchiki family will crumble in my hands."
He sighed softly. "You know I was born frail. If given the choice, my father would have preferred I never beco a Shinigami and just lived an ordinary life."
"Unfortunately, our generation is sparse. Aside from , there's no one else in the family fit to inherit the title."
"Whenever I think about it, I can't help but feel anxious, afraid of failing everyone's expectations..."
"So, in a way, my father's brutal training brings comfort—at least I know I'm doing everything I can."
At this point, he suddenly seed to rember sothing and looked at Satoru with a complicated gaze.
"And yet, despite all my efforts, I still haven't caught up to your growth..."
Satoru scratched his head and laughed.
Truth be told, he hadn't fully processed the latter half of Sōjun's words.
The ntion of a "million-year legacy" left him feeling like he'd just been run over by a cat.
The world of Shinigami was truly absurd.
Before transmigrating here, he'd always assud the Soul Society's history spanned only a few thousand years.
Who would've guessed the Five Great Noble Families had been serving the Soul King for a million years?
This setting was downright mind-shattering.
Once Sōjun finished, Satoru shared his own experiences over the sa period.
As he listened, Sōjun's eyes widened in shock, hanging onto every word.
The prison assault incident, the graduation ceremony, the captain promotion exam...
Hearing about Satoru's fierce battles, he clenched his fists, his expression tense.
When Satoru erged unscathed, he exhaled in relief, his face softening.
The imrsion was real.
By the ti Satoru finished, Sōjun was practically glowing with excitent.
"Satoru, you've really beco so strong... That's amazing!"
Satoru tilted his head slightly with a smug grin. "Oh ho, praise more, praise more!"
As they chatted, Satoru suddenly raised an eyebrow.
He sensed a well-concealed Spiritual Pressure approaching the courtyard.
No doubt, this was the attacker sent by Sōjun's father, just as he had ntioned.
As the Spiritual Pressure drew nearer, Sōjun also seed to sense sothing.
He stood up, placing a hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō.
"Satoru, step back."
Satoru nodded and Flash Stepped to the edge of the yard.
Then, he saw a Shinigami land in the courtyard with a Flash Step.
Without wasting words, the Shinigami drew his blade and charged at Sōjun the mont he saw him.
In an instant, Satoru assessed the opponent's strength.
A high-ranking seated officer, with Spiritual Power between levels seven and six.
Currently, all divisions were short-staffed, and an officer of this caliber could barely qualify for a vice-captain position.
Facing the assault, Sōjun's expression remained unchanged.
Drawing his Zanpakutō, he lunged forward like a tiger unleashed from its cage.
In monts, flashing blades and surging Spiritual Pressure filled the courtyard with a cold, tallic aura.
After watching for a while, Satoru couldn't help but feel surprised.
Old Man Kuchiki's special training had so real substance.
Sōjun's Spiritual Pressure had already brushed against the threshold of level seven.
A genuine high-ranking seated officer!
Coupled with the unpredictable Kuchiki swordsmanship, taking on a seated officer with level six or seven Spiritual Power was no issue at all.
Sure enough, in less than a minute, Sōjun had gained the upper hand.
Swinging his Zanpakutō, he Flash Stepped behind the officer.
Blood sprayed from the latter's body with a splat!
Satoru stood up and clapped his hands.
Just as he was about to go over and heal the officer, he saw Sōjun suddenly cough up blood where he stood.
Satoru: "?!"
Under his stunned gaze, Sōjun spat out blood and collapsed to the ground.
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