Chapter 65: Under Human Imagination, There Is No Such Thing as a Limit

“Because I knew in my mind that even if my heart was pierced, I wouldn’t die, so even at this point, I felt no fear at all.”

Purple-black flames repaired Ye Xuan’s heart; he paid no attention to his bodily injuries, instead analyzing the previous battle.

To others, the battle might have seemed a life-or-death struggle between the two, but neither he nor Ukitake Retsu had used their full strength.

Ukitake Retsu had not used Bankai, and he had not pushed Wangquan Sword Intent to its extreme; both had fought primarily with sword techniques.

Yet if not for Three Thousand Sacred Flame’s healing, he would indeed have died.

But precisely because he knew the power of Three Thousand Sacred Flame, he could not feel the fear of dancing on the edge of death.

If Ukitake Retsu had severed his head, perhaps—no, if she had aimed for his head, he would never have allowed her the chance to cut it off.

In fact, this was not their first such battle; after fishing up the space ring, he frequently fought numerous strong warriors in the Kunlun Mountains, though Ukitake Retsu was the one he manifested most often.

He loved Ukitake Retsu’s sword style—her endless array of sword schools, her unpredictable hidden strikes, and her personality that ignored everything else, fully immersed in slaughter.

Of course, most importantly, she mastered the Healing Dao and could heal him after he reached his limit.

Ye Xuan’s strength was no weaker than Ukitake Retsu’s; if both gave their all, with Wangquan Sword Intent and Three Thousand Sacred Flame fully unleashed, even her Bankai would not save her from being killed by Ye Xuan.

But if judged purely by sword art, Ye Xuan was no match for Ukitake Retsu.

As the first Shinigami to bear the title “Sword Eight,” the unprecedented and unparalleled villain in Soul Society’s history, proficient in every sword school, and hailed as “Hachirōren,” Ukitake Retsu was herself a genius of sword art.

A thousand years had brought her mastery and understanding of the sword to a level incomprehensible to ordinary beings.

Even though Ye Xuan, after integrating the Wangquan Baye template, was already a sword prodigy, and even though, guided by the Hōgyoku and through exchanging ideas with sword masters across worlds, he had surpassed Wangquan Baye itself in sword art, he still could not compare to Ukitake Retsu.

Thus, in their earliest battles, Ye Xuan often lost; in fact, the first few were complete, overwhelming defeats.

It was as if all his thoughts had been read by her.

Now, though he had won, Ye Xuan could not be certain whether Ukitake Retsu had intentionally wanted to die.

After Ukitake Retsu learned he was a figurine, and that upon death, her next manifestation would retain this memory, Ye Xuan could no longer fathom her thoughts.

At least in his view, during the previous battle, Ukitake Retsu could have blocked his sword in another way and continued fighting—but she did not. Instead, she drove her blade through his heart, resulting in mutual destruction.

Knowing full well he possessed Three Thousand Sacred Flame to heal himself, she still chose this method—as if she had grown fond of dying in battle.

He truly could not understand the mind of a woman older than a thousand years.

Ye Xuan placed Ukitake Retsu’s figurine into his storage ring; after a moment’s hesitation, he took out a new one.

Brown short hair, gentle brows and eyes, a faint smile at her lips—she radiated an air of refined composure.

“You were right, Aizen.”

“Last time, it truly wasn’t our final meeting.”

Ye Xuan gazed at the figurine before him; the power of the Rat Talisman flowed like water into it, the resin’s texture softening and coming alive under the light.

First to awaken were her eyes—pupils contracting slightly upon seeing the unfamiliar scene, then relaxing into a deep, gentle smile.

Brown strands stirred gently in the cold wind atop Mount Kunlun; she regarded the man before her with quiet elegance.

“We meet again, Ye Xuan-kun.”

“Last time, you were wary of me and unwilling to accept my advice.”

“Now, having manifested me once more, you must have realized: though the Hōgyoku belongs to me, under the power of the Rat Talisman, you are truly its master.”

This was not their first meeting; when he had once reached his physical limit and could not break through to a new realm, he had manifested Aizen once before, and Aizen’s answer to him was—he needed to experience death.

Ye Xuan’s strength, compared to this point in time, was far too great.

Though a god existed above him, in Ye Xuan’s heart, he had never regarded that god as a goal to surpass.

His cultivation effort was not to outpace another, but simply to become stronger himself.

He pursued power, yet without urgency; though to others his cultivation might seem disciplined, even excessively harsh, his heart held no desperate craving for strength.

Actions can deceive others, even oneself—but they cannot hide one’s “heart.”

The Hōgyoku could guide the host’s potential, shatter bottlenecks, and allow him to reach prematurely the realm he would naturally attain in the future; but to break past his limit, Ye Xuan first needed to clarify one thing: what did his heart truly desire?

“The Hōgyoku’s power manifests the host’s innermost wish—but Ye Xuan, what exactly lies beyond your limit?”

These were the words Aizen had spoken to Ye Xuan then, and Ye Xuan had given no answer.

Immortal? God? Sage?

He had no clear vision of what kind of being he would become; if pressed, he wished, like Aizen, to evolve into a higher dimension.

But Aizen was bound by his world—his evolution, even excluding potential, still had an end; Ye Xuan was different. Beneath human imagination, any so-called limit had become an “unknown”—or rather, evolution itself had no limit.

The so-called "upper limit" is merely constrained by potential, system, and world.

Of course, the Hōgyoku could not grant infinite evolution, even if one possessed such potential; its own rank inherently defined its ceiling.

Ye Xuan seemed to have clarified his future, yet he was not firm in it; in his heart, he cared little for the path he would forge or how he walked it—so long as he grew stronger.

Others had no choice, but Ye Xuan, with the System of Fishing Across the Multiverse, had too many options.

He need do nothing—only wait.

Wait for the next fishing opportunity, wait for a higher-rank fishing target to appear—his strength would naturally ascend.

(End of Chapter)