Shen Wulong still stood atop the car. He touched the back of his head in mild surprise—his ponytail was gone.
In that instant of exchange just now, he had seen through Kurosaki Rei's movements. Calmly, he lowered his body and dodged the lightning-fast decapitating slash. Yet because he crouched down at extreme speed, his hair lagged for a split second—and was severed by Kurosaki Rei.
What surprised him wasn't the ruined hairstyle.
It was that he had originally intended to extend a finger and, using the power of "logic," catch the blade barehanded. But when the slash truly approached, he instinctively changed tactics and chose to dodge.
"Interesting. The last person who managed to injure me was probably Long Yi…"
Shen Wulong spoke with a trace of nostalgia, touching his shoulder as if recalling the gunshot wound from eighty years ago.
Kurosaki Rei tilted his head, baring a mouthful of pale teeth in a grin.
"Shen Wulong, why did you dodge?"
"Yes… why did I dodge?"
Shen Wulong himself seemed puzzled. Looking at Kurosaki Rei, realization dawned.
"Oh—I see. You're strong. Makes sense. After all, you killed Xia Yan."
"Your so-called 'logic' is nothing more than refined technique,"
Kurosaki Rei sheathed his blade, lowering his stance.
"Those who can't hurt you are just endlessly hyping your strength in their own heads. But in my eyes—your technique isn't flawless."
"Not bad. You might be the strongest person I've met in ten thousand years,"
Shen Wulong finally began to take the fight seriously.
For a long time, he had been bored. His desire to split into two 'selves' was ultimately just to find an evenly matched opponent.
But even so—would that truly end the boredom?
And why did he want an evenly matched opponent in the first place?
"You still seem interested in fighting the strong,"
Kurosaki Rei said with a sigh.
"Pity that time is merciless… It stripped away your human heart, until you even forgot your original intent."
In the next instant, both men moved.
They met in midair—violet-black blade light interweaving with fists and kicks. Upon landing, their steps carried them tens of meters in a blink. The pressure of their movement bent the flames, and missed attacks smashed vehicles and buildings alike.
When they separated again, Qiu Mo in Kurosaki Rei's hand was stained with blood. Several holes had been torn through his shirt, revealing muscles marked with Shen Wulong's fist imprints.
"Shen Wulong! What the hell are you doing?! This isn't your full strength, is it?!"
The Devourer roared from the rooftop, unable to believe what he had just seen.
That man—Kurosaki Rei—was actually fighting Shen Wulong without falling behind.
More than that—during that brief exchange, he had cut off Shen Wulong's ponytail and wounded his arm!
"Shut up."
Shen Wulong's voice was low.
He didn't even look toward the rooftop. His gaze was locked tightly onto Kurosaki Rei. In those eyes that were usually as calm as an ancient well, change had appeared.
Like a stone dropped into still water—ripples formed, then turned into surging waves.
He felt the blood in his body heat up. A nameless emotion rose within him—something he hadn't felt in tens of thousands of years.
That unfamiliar, surging emotion made him forget about revenge, forget his agreement with the Devourer. All he wanted was to stare at the man before him.
"Oh, right. Almost forgot—there's still an audience,"
Kurosaki Rei glanced up at the Devourer, his gaze cold and flat.
"Wait for death in your VIP seat."
The Devourer felt deeply insulted.
"Shen Wulong is the strongest! You really think you'll live through today?!"
he snapped, his bravado hiding his fear.
He had never imagined there could be a first-tier Adjudicator this strong—
to trade blows with Shen Wulong… didn't that mean Kurosaki Rei's combat specialization had reached the Grandmaster level?!
Kurosaki Rei didn't respond.
In his eyes, there was now only Shen Wulong.
Shen Wulong's aura was changing—growing deeper, more aggressive.
In the first two probing exchanges, Kurosaki Rei had been surprised to find Shen Wulong less overwhelming than expected. He even felt that if he had gone all-out from the very first strike—using a desperate, all-in slash—he might have killed Shen Wulong outright.
But the chance had passed.
Which was fine.
"Raian—you're not dead yet, right?"
Kurosaki Rei said without taking his eyes off Shen Wulong.
"Watch that guy for me. Don't let him escape."
"Hah?! Don't order me around!! Watch him?! I'm going to tear him apart!"
Raian crawled out of the rubble, bloodthirsty eyes locking onto the Devourer atop the building.
Kurosaki Rei had no interest in bickering. His killing intent and Shen Wulong's locked together as the two slowly advanced toward one another.
During their exchange, the street had already been cleared. From here on, he could fight without restraint.
Kurosaki Rei didn't know exactly how Shen Wulong was in the original story—but he was certain of one thing:
The Shen Wulong before him possessed an immortal-grade physique.
Muscle strength surpassing even Wakatsuki Takeshi.
That powerful musculature didn't just grant strength—it gave Shen Wulong tremendous speed. That was the real reason he had been able to dodge Kurosaki Rei's opening slash.
Technique always had limits.
Against Kurosaki Rei's absolute killing strike, an unarmed Shen Wulong—without that speed—would have only one outcome: decapitation.
The power of "logic" wasn't omnipotent. Without a sufficient physical foundation, what couldn't be dodged would not be dodged; what couldn't be blocked would not be blocked.
After that brief exchange, Kurosaki Rei had to admit that Shen Wulong's ten-thousand-year lifespan hadn't been wasted.
In terms of pure combat specialization, he might even have surpassed Captain-Commander Yamamoto from another world—an absurd level.
Time was terrifying like that.
Yamamoto's mastery wasn't just talent; it was the result of thousands of years of refinement. Shen Wulong had lived for tens of thousands of years—perhaps longer. To the people of this world, his combat expertise was utterly incomprehensible.
That was why it became known as "logic."
In the original story, Kurosaki Rei could already foresee that no matter how much Kanoh and the others grew, they could never defeat Shen Wulong. The gap in accumulated combat technique was simply too vast.
In terms of combat specialization alone, Kurosaki Rei himself was also inferior to Shen Wulong.
It wasn't like sparring with Yamamoto, where Kurosaki Rei could occasionally find openings and trade blows evenly.
If Kurosaki Rei and Shen Wulong had equal physical attributes, Shen Wulong would annihilate him without question.
But there were no "ifs" in reality.
The fact was—
In Shikai, Kurosaki Rei's physical body was stronger than Shen Wulong's.
As he advanced, Kurosaki Rei's aura surged once more.
Violet-black demonic patterns spread across his body like vines. His knotted muscles suddenly swelled, tearing his shirt apart. His heart rate skyrocketed to 300 beats per minute. The world slowed in his vision, as if endless power were pouring into his body.
Intense heat evaporated the sweat on his skin. Blood-red steam mixed with Qiu Mo's purple mist, wrapping around him like flowing ribbons.
At that moment, Kurosaki Rei looked like a demon, a god—like Asura incarnate.
Secret Technique: Demon-God!
Strength +5, Agility +5!
Kurosaki Rei's Strength surged to 28, his Agility to 27. His Constitution, boosted by repeated medicinal baths, had risen by 2 points to 25.
This wasn't a wildly unbalanced burst state.
It was a technique he had created by unifying Demon's Descent, Removal, and Possessing Spirit—his own exclusive secret art.
It granted massive attribute increases while still maintaining impressive endurance.
At present, he could sustain this state for over ten minutes without risking self-destruction—unlike Hiō Kagefusa.
Kurosaki Rei's expression turned fervent as he looked at Shen Wulong.
You can use four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds—
but what about ten thousand? A hundred thousand?
You possess the beauty of technique.
I possess the beauty of numbers.
Come—
let us draw the final line for this world.
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