Chapter 39 - CHAPTER 39:The Chorus Belongs to the Ballad of Kikyo

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On the battlefield, the fog gradually dissipated. A beam of sunlight poured through the clouds. Su Li stood quietly beneath it, bathed in golden light—like a child of the gods. Everyone froze, mesmerized by the sight. No one spoke. No one moved. No one dared break the stillness. Eyes wide with awe, fear, reverence, and fanatic admiration, they gazed at him. None of that mattered. The boy before them had become the one and only magnificent sight in the world.

Many recalled the gods mentioned by Adjuchas earlier. None of them knew what a god truly looked like. But if a god walked this earth—it should look like that boy.

Su Li, unaware of the crowd's pilgrimage-like stares, wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled deeply. Activating both techniques at once had drained him. Ultra Instinct alone was already a monstrous energy sink. Even in its omen stage, his body could only maintain it for minutes. Add in the Eight Inner Gates and he was near empty in seconds. Clearly, his body needed major strengthening going forward. But still, the results were beyond expectations.

Even a monster like Xubai hadn't lasted a single punch. Reduced to a red mist. In that moment, Su Li thought to himself: not bad... maybe I really am like that bald guy. He smiled, pleased with the test's results. That calm, radiant smile stunned everyone—especially the girls. Sui-Feng's cheeks reddened slightly.

"Hmph… made me worry for nothing…" she muttered. "Still full of surprises… damn… scumbag…" And with that, she fainted.

It was a miracle she'd stayed conscious this long. After using Jakuhō Raikōben twice, plus the prior battles, Sui-Feng's body and mind were already running on fumes. She had only remained awake because she wanted to see the result of Su Li's battle with her own eyes. Now, seeing him victorious and unharmed, her body finally gave in.

The rest of the crowd slowly returned to their senses. First a few small smiles. Then laughter. Then a celebration.

Meanwhile, the captains rushing toward the battlefield wore grim expressions. They had just sensed something terrifying: the overwhelming Reiatsu of the Vasto Lorde had vanished. There were only two explanations. One, it had been killed. Two, it had killed everyone and hidden its Reiatsu. No one dared assume the first.

They knew what Vasto Lordes were capable of. Even captain-class Shinigami couldn't confidently claim victory over one. And this particular Hollow had been far beyond standard Vasto Lordes. To make things worse, both Sui-Feng and Kyoraku Shunsui were already heavily wounded from earlier battles. Against that kind of enemy, the odds were bleak.

Sadness and guilt gnawed at the captains. This was on them—on their arrogance. They had let their guard down too soon, returning to Seireitei before confirming the battle was truly over. A rookie mistake. Peace had softened them. They clenched their teeth and accelerated. They had to reach the battlefield. If not to save them, then to avenge them.

The whole force surged forward. The battlefield was almost in view. Yamamoto, leading the charge, suddenly slowed. A strange look crossed his face. And then, before anyone could speak, a tidal wave of cheers erupted from ahead—shaking the sky.

The captains froze. Shock rippled through their ranks.

"What the hell is that?" Rangiku's eyes widened.

Hitsugaya Tōshirō frowned in disbelief.

All the captains wore the same stunned expression.

"…Xiaojian, I think they're alive…" Yachiru murmured.

Kenpachi Zaraki said nothing. His eyes narrowed, unreadable.

Confused, the group kept moving, now desperate to see with their own eyes.

Moments later, the full force arrived at the scene. And then... silence. Pure disbelief.

The battlefield was not a graveyard—it was a festival. Members of the Second and Eighth Divisions were dancing, hugging, singing. Their faces glowed with joy. Laughter echoed through the trees. The roar from earlier had turned into a song. A familiar one.

"Honest and brave, we march through the forest. At the end of the path, we gather the bright Kikyo flowers…"

Their voices rose in harmony, ringing through the mountains.

The captains froze. That song—everyone knew it. It was the Second Division's anthem. The Kikyo mentioned in the lyrics was their team flower. Now, both divisions had joined together in a chorus on the battlefield—singing their hearts out.

Sunlight poured down on the scene, bathing it in gold.

In the middle of it all, one figure was being thrown into the air.

"Hey hey—stop throwing me up! I'm gonna puke! Yuelian, seriously—!"

It was Su Li. His face pale, body limp, he flailed helplessly as the crowd tossed him higher and higher. The people were too ecstatic to care. They launched him again and again. After all, they were alive because of this boy.

He alone had stood against death—and won. He had dragged them from the jaws of despair. He had turned the tide. He was the true hero.

So, in return, they celebrated him the only way they knew how—by lifting him up.

"Hey! Who's touching me while I'm airborne?! You think I can't feel that?! I'll remember your Reiatsu!!"

Su Li raged, but no one listened. Several girls in the crowd smirked suspiciously.

Omaeda, as usual, was the most over-the-top. He led the cheer, arms pumping.

"Long live the vice-captain! LONG LIVE!"

"Hey! You guys over there—don't just stand there! Come help us throw him higher!!"

People from other divisions looked on, stunned. They didn't know what to say.

They could only watch in silence, their faces blank with disbelief.

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