The moment the spatial transference ended, five of the robed assailants moved in unison.
Five high-level Bakudō spells, all cast without incantation, slammed into place.
In the blink of an eye, six rods of golden light, serpentine chains, luminous barriers, iron pillars, and nine black binding spheres sealed Lan Yan from head to toe.
He couldn't lift a finger.
Couldn't move a toe.
Couldn't open his mouth.
Perfectly synchronized, ruthlessly precise—this wasn't their first ambush.
The layering of Bakudō was too clean, too professional.
"Zanpakutō genius of the millennium?"
"That's it?"
"He couldn't even withstand our first round of Bakudō. Hah. Pathetic."
The cloaked men scoffed as they surrounded him.
"His talent isn't the problem," the leader said flatly.
"He's simply green. Been at Shinō Academy a day. One day."
"You think someone who's just gotten their Zanpakutō can survive an ambush from ten of us? We've prepared for this."
Another asked, "Should we bring him in now?"
"No. Sever his limbs first."
"We wouldn't want him struggling in front of the master."
"Understood."
Two assassins stepped forward, Zanpakutōs drawn.
They didn't aim randomly—their spells had been placed with surgical precision, leaving tiny gaps at the shoulders and hips.
Enough to allow a clean severing.
Shhk.
Under the pale moonlight, blades gleamed.
And with the cold rasp of steel meeting flesh, Lan Yan's limbs were sliced off.
"Confirmed, Captain. He's been disarmed."
The leader nodded—
—but then he saw it.
Where blood should've flowed, golden light spilled from the severed wounds.
"…No."
"Move!"
His voice cracked with alarm.
But it was too late.
The bindings disintegrated into shimmering particles as Lan Yan's entire form unraveled into golden motes—
Only to reassemble, whole and unscathed, a breath later.
"A trap barrier. Coordinated Bakudō. Fine."
"But I'll only ask once: Who is this 'master' you mentioned?"
Lan Yan stood unbound, voice calm, eyes cold.
"You're not worthy of his name," the squad leader spat.
"Kill him."
He swung his arm.
Nine black-robed figures leaped into action.
Some drew their Zanpakutō, others began chanting Kidō, and some launched Bakudō without incantation.
But before a single spell could complete—
A blinding golden light erupted from Lan Yan's body.
It wasn't a flash. It was daybreak.
The brilliance eclipsed the moon, scorching the world in holy radiance.
"AGH!"
"My eyes!"
"I—I can't see!"
Blinded by the radiance, the assassins faltered.
Their vision turned blank white. Their chants stumbled. Their stances broke.
Lan Yan moved.
"Zanjutsu: Kenatsu."
A single draw. One wide horizontal slash.
BOOM.
The golden energy surged—dense, pure spiritual pressure igniting the very reishi in the air.
A blade of light swept forth, burning hotter than flame.
It crashed into the blinded assassins—
Shhk!
Blood arced into the air.
Nine heads hit the floor.
All but one.
The leader, though blinded, had moved by instinct—flash-stepping back an instant before the blade hit.
"Tch…"
"I underestimated you."
"But that was your only chance."
Drawing his own Zanpakutō, he murmured:
"Roar, Shippū."
The blade glowed emerald, transforming into a massive, jagged greatsword.
Without a word, the air twisted.
Nine howling wind vortices spun to life around him—tornadoes with the grace and fury of a nine-tailed beast. The earth buckled beneath them.
"It ends here, Lan Yan."
"If I delay any longer, even your corpse won't please the master."
The assassin raised his blade high.
The cyclones shrieked like hollering Hollows, howling in sync with his killing intent.
Then Lan Yan spoke:
"…The Four Great Houses. So it really was you."
The squad leader flinched.
Just a twitch.
It was enough.
Lan Yan smiled faintly.
"Die."
The assassin's face twisted in fury. He no longer cared about taking Lan Yan alive.
"DIE!"
He dropped the blade.
The nine cyclones lashed downward like celestial serpents, converging on Lan Yan from every direction.
But Lan Yan didn't flinch.
He didn't defend.
He didn't even move.
He calmly sheathed his blade.
And spoke two words:
"Open—your eyes, Zhukuyin."
FWOOM—
A pillar of golden light shot skyward, vast and deafening, connecting Earth to the moon.
It rose like a divine staircase, cutting through the storm and sky alike.
The storm broke.
The moon turned gold.
The raging winds dissipated like smoke before sunlight.
The cyclones shattered into glittering mist.
At the heart of it all stood Lan Yan—his Zanpakutō unsheathed, radiating divine brilliance.
Author's Note:
Lan Yan: "Open your eyes, Zhukuyin."
Assassins: "What do you mean by—AHHHHHHHH—"
Next time: What Zhukuyin really is. And who sent them?
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