In the 80th District of the North Rukongai, Zaraki District.
This was the outermost region of the North Rukongai. True to the tradition that any district beyond the 50th was a lawless zone, the security here couldn't be described as merely "bad"—it was nonexistent.
But even among the 80th districts, this one was the absolute worst. If you were to compare all four 80th districts—East, South, West, and North—this was the one people feared and avoided the most.
The reason was simple: a legend of a murderous demon had persisted here for hundreds of years, never once fading.
Previously, it had taken Ling Qing over two months to travel from the 80th district of West Rukongai to the 50th. Now, however, the journey from the 45th district of West Rukongai to the 80th of North Rukongai took him less than a week. This contrast in travel time was a testament to how much his power had grown in such a short period.
From the moment he stepped into the 80th district—no, from the moment he saw it from a distance—Ling Qing's brow had been furrowed, and it hadn't relaxed since.
"It's always the same... Good places have their own unique charm, but bad places are all alike..."
Ling Qing moved through a landscape of utter ruin. The cloying scent of rust, the smell of old blood, clung to the air, impossible to escape. The ground beneath his feet was not the color of earth, but a dark, stained red. For centuries, it seemed every inch of this land had been soaked in blood. If this weren't the afterlife, Zaraki District would surely be infamous as a haunted zone.
Though his brow remained furrowed, a flicker of anticipation grew within him. Yuishinryu had sworn the intelligence was accurate, but seeing is believing. He hadn't yet found the rumored 'demon,' but the state of Zaraki District alone was a silent confirmation that the tales were no mere fiction.
If this news had come any later, Ling Qing would have already been on his way to the Seireitei. But since the information reached him after he had already set out, he decided to come here first. It made no difference whether he arrived at the Seireitei sooner or later.
He hoped in his heart that this week-long journey—two weeks for a round trip—would not be a waste of time.
Compared to the chaotic 80th district of West Rukongai, where you constantly had to be on guard against someone lunging from a corner with a knife, Zaraki was eerily silent. From the moment Ling Qing entered, he hadn't seen a single living soul.
Along the way, he saw countless corpses, slain and discarded like trash. The foul stench that saturated the air of Zaraki emanated from them. Observing the wounds on the bodies, it was clear they hadn't been killed in difficult battles. Most had been cut down in one or two swift strikes.
In that respect, it was somewhat similar to Ling Qing's own style.
He quickened his pace.
He could feel it—deep within Zaraki, a storm was brewing. It was an aura that could only be described as a battle frenzy. Though different in its finer details, the general feeling was remarkably similar, guiding Ling Qing forward, leading him to the opponent he yearned for.
Then, before he even saw the source, his eyes began to sting.
Ling Qing didn't know what the Shinigami called this kind of perception—spiritual awareness, intuition, or something else. But in his senses, he felt a colossal presence ahead, burning like a wild flame, threatening to incinerate the very world.
The presence radiated an undisguised, overwhelming power. The sheer force of it, palpable even before he laid eyes on its source, was on a completely different dimension from anyone—human or Hollow—he had ever fought before.
Ling Qing might not have noticed it himself, but a smile involuntarily spread across his face. It was a smile rarely seen in his previous battles—no, it had never appeared before. A smile filled with madness, a craving for battle, for a fight between equals, and the desire to utterly annihilate his foe.
His speed increased unconsciously. Before he knew it, his sharp blade was already in his hand.
The wind shrieked as he cut through it. A silver glint destroyed everything in its path. Whether it was a withered tree, a crumbling building, or anything else that stood in Ling Qing's way, it was all shattered into fragments by the flash of his sword.
Finally, Ling Qing saw the true face of the legendary demon.
He was an incredibly tall man, clad only in tattered pants. His upper body was bare, covered in powerful, well-defined muscles. These weren't for show; every fiber was built to channel immense power and slay his enemies. Countless crisscrossing scars covered his body, a testament to the innumerable battles he had fought.
Hearing Ling Qing's approach, or perhaps sensing his presence, the man, who had been sleeping soundly under a large tree, opened his eyes in a daze.
The moment he turned and saw Ling Qing, he sprang to his feet like a roused beast. He kicked the longsword lying beside him, catching it in mid-air as it flipped up.
"You... you seem interesting."
The man, with a face as fearsome as a demon's, stared intently at Ling Qing. It was impossible to guess his age; he looked like a young man, but his long hair was messy and unkempt, like wild grass. A long scar ran down the left side of his face, from his forehead to his chin. It was a wonder he had survived such a grievous wound.
The longsword in his hand was not like Ling Qing's, which shone with a cold, reflective light. His was jagged and serrated. It looked less like a sword and more like a saw.
He was more beast than man.
He looked at Ling Qing as if he were prey, and it was clear he wouldn't let him leave, even if Ling Qing wanted to. His mouth split into a wide, terrifying, and ferocious grin. An untamed madness erupted from him.
"Let's see what you've got!!! Just don't die on the first strike!!!!"
Laughing wildly, he raised his sword and, without another word, lunged at Ling Qing.
However, Ling Qing simply narrowed his eyes.
In the next instant, a silver light flashed!
It was followed by a spray of crimson!
A deep, straight gash suddenly appeared on the man's scarred body, running from his left shoulder to his right hip. Blood gushed out freely.
The man, who had just raised his sword, collapsed to the ground with a thud.
A pool of red began to form beneath him...