The underground training grounds of the Urahara Store.
Ichigo Kurosaki, carrying Zangetsu, looked at Yoriichi Tsugikuni standing in front of him, his eye twitching involuntarily.
“The third stage of training is…
fighting him?” “That’s right.” Kisuke Urahara shielded half his face with his paper fan, smiling as he said, “And this time, Yoriichi won’t just aim to exhaust you like before.” Ichigo was silent for a moment.
The training that almost killed him before was considered lenient?
“The goal this time is to teach you to control your Reiatsu.” Kisuke Urahara raised his paper fan, pointing at Zangetsu in Ichigo’s hands.
“You possess great power, but it’s too loose.
Simply put, you’re like someone fighting while carrying a water tank; most of the water is wasted before it even reaches the enemy.” “That analogy is stupid.” “I’m glad you understand.” Kisuke Urahara completely ignored his sarcastic remark, taking a few steps back to give the two of them more space.
Yoriichi slowly drew his sword, Kakuyō.
The long, narrow, dark gray blade gleamed in the dim underground space, appearing even less imposing than Zangetsu in Ichigo’s hand.
But Ichigo dared not be careless.
He gripped the hilt tightly, his gaze fixed on Yoriichi.
“Ready?” Yoriichi asked.
“Come on.” The words had barely left his lips when Yoriichi appeared before him.
So fast!
Ichigo only had time to raise Zangetsu horizontally.
Clang!
The two swords clashed, and Ichigo’s feet slid backward, his arms tingling from the impact.
Before he could regain his footing, Yoriichi brought his sword down again.
This strike lacked Reiatsu and wasn’t particularly powerful, but its point of impact was precisely where Ichigo would find it most difficult to exert force.
Clang!
Zangetsu was forced aside.
Yoriichi twisted the hilt of his sword and struck Ichigo’s shoulder with the back of the blade.
Ichigo was sent flying.
“Damn it!” He flipped in mid-air, landing on his feet and immediately charging back.
A massive Zangetsu slashed out, immense Reiatsu erupting from the blade, kicking up dust.
Yoriichi only took a half-step back.
The blade grazed his clothes.
“Too much Reiatsu, too much movement.” Yoriichi raised his sword, Kakuyō, and struck Ichigo’s wrist again with the back of the blade.
Zangetsu nearly slipped from his grasp.
“Don’t just focus on throwing out all your power; you need to keep every bit of Reiatsu on the blade.” Ichigo gritted his teeth and swung again.
The result was the same.
No matter which direction he attacked from, Yoriichi could dodge in advance and then repel him with the simplest of moves.
Five minutes later, Ichigo had already taken more than a dozen blows.
What was most infuriating was that Yoriichi remained standing still the entire time, never moving more than three steps.
“You bastard, can you read my mind?” “No.” Yoriichi replied seriously, “But your shoulders, wrists, and breathing will tell me how you’re going to strike.” Ichigo looked down at his shoulders.
He can even tell that?
Kisuke Urahara sat at a distance, his smile gradually fading.
In his view, every strike Yoriichi made avoided Ichigo’s vitals, yet perfectly disrupted the flow of Reiatsu within Ichigo’s body.
This teaching method was very direct.
One mistake, one strike.
The effect was good.
At least Ichigo had begun to actively control his Reiatsu.
“Again!” Ichigo took a deep breath and channeled his Reiatsu into Zangetsu.
This time, the chaotic airflow around the blade disappeared, and a pale blue light gradually condensed on the black edge.
He shattered the ground beneath his feet and slashed at Yoriichi.
Yoriichi blocked Zangetsu with his own sword, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes.
“Better than before.” “Stop talking like a teacher!” Ichigo roared and continued to press down on the blade.
The next moment, Yoriichi shifted his weight, and Ichigo lost his balance, rushing past him.
Bang!
Ichigo fell face-first to the ground.
Jinta Hanakari, carrying an iron rod, stood at the edge of the training ground and laughed without any restraint.
“That orange-haired guy is so lame.” Ururu Tsumugiya whispered, “Jinta, you were also knocked away by Yoriichi in one move.” Jinta Hanakari’s laughter stopped abruptly.
“Shut up!” For the next few days, Ichigo hardly left the underground training ground.
He was beaten during the day, reviewed at night, and then beaten again the next day.
Yoriichi would point out every single problem he had, from his sword grip to his footwork, to the timing of his Reiatsu release—no detail was overlooked.
Ichigo’s progress was astonishingly fast.
At first, he couldn’t last ten moves against Yoriichi.
By the third day, he could barely block twenty moves and occasionally even managed to counterattack.
Although he still couldn’t touch Yoriichi.
But at least he didn’t look so bad.
On the fifth day, Ichigo swung Zangetsu again, his Reiatsu erupting along the blade.
A huge blue-white slash shot out.
“Getsuga Tenshō!” The ground was instantly torn open, the slash heading straight for Yoriichi.
Yoriichi raised his sword, Kakuyō, and slashed down.
BOOM!
The crescent-shaped slash split in the middle, dissipating into Reishi.
Ichigo stared at this scene, completely stunned.
“What was that just now?” “Your Zanpakutō is releasing its power.” Yoriichi sheathed his sword and said, “Remember the feeling of that Reiatsu flow, and use it again.” “You make it sound so easy.” Ichigo looked down at Zangetsu, his forehead covered in sweat.
That attack was entirely forced; he didn’t even know how to replicate it.
“Then let’s continue.” Yoriichi raised his sword again.
Ichigo’s face darkened.
He suddenly understood what it meant to force one’s potential.
On the seventh day of training, Orihime Inoue and Chad arrived at Urahara’s shop.
As soon as the two entered the underground space, they saw Ichigo being sent flying by a flash of light, crashing through three rocks.
Orihime Inoue covered her mouth.
“Kurosaki-kun… you were training, weren’t you?” Chad was silent for two seconds, then nodded.
“He should still be alive.” A black cat walked by and looked up at the two.
“Your training isn’t here.
Come with me.” “The cat spoke?” Orihime Inoue’s eyes widened.
Yoruichi didn’t explain, turning and walking towards another passage.
Orihime and Chad quickly followed.
That evening, Uryu Ishida also came.
He didn’t participate in the training; he only confirmed the method of entering Soul Society with Kisuke Urahara and inquired about the potential risks of crossing the Dangai.
Kisuke Urahara gave a long explanation.
After listening, Uryu Ishida adjusted his glasses.
“So, you can’t guarantee our safe arrival?” “Theoretically, there’s still a high probability of success.” “How high exactly?” Kisuke Urahara shook his paper fan, offering no answer.
Uryu Ishida’s expression immediately turned grim.
He hurriedly left, preparing to complete the Quincy equipment before departure.
Time flew by.
Ichigo was finally able to reliably unleash his Getsuga Tenshō; although control was still rough, he no longer drained most of his Reiatsu.
Meanwhile, in the backyard of Urahara’s shop, a massive wooden door frame was finally assembled.
Kisuke Urahara put down his tools and looked up at the device before him.
The specially made Dangai crossing device, equipped with a Reishi converter, was finally complete.