Chapter 17: The Purity Has Increased Greatly
It was a truly marvelous state of being. His body was still engaged in high-intensity combat, and his brain was exhausted from being stretched so tight, yet his spirit seemed to transcend both flesh and mind. He scrutinized himself from a higher dimension, observing the martial artists who swarmed him.
From these attacking fighters, Ichigo Kurosaki saw more clearly than ever what "Purity" truly was!
Every punch thrown was an act of predation, using body and soul to hunt the enemy. Every retracted fist was an act of digestion and growth. Every battle was a step further in the brutal competition of the food chain, aiming to become the ultimate consumer who transcends the ecosystem entirely.
This will was cold, yet fanatical.
It had nothing to do with grudges, good or evil, or even killing and protecting. The fight itself was the entire meaning.
Driven by this Purity, these martial artists threw themselves into every battle with zeal. To them, combat possessed a value that transcended life and death, for it was the ladder to advancement, the tower of strength, and the lotus throne of achievement.
Under the push of this extreme, pure will, these fighters were like Asuras descended to earth, erupting with 100%, even 150% of their combat potential. To them, every fight was a sublimation of living toward death.
Ichigo Kurosaki did not know that the predecessors of these martial artists were Hollows. And Hollows, by nature, are monsters infected by the Eternal Progenitor Hollow, gradually becoming more like "Him."
Hollows eat humans, souls, Reishi, and even other Hollows. In all of heaven and earth, there is nothing a Hollow will not consume. This endless devouring is for the sake of making all things one, returning them to eternal chaos.
Even after being transformed by the Hogyoku into human martial artists, that instinct—the one originating from being a Hollow—did not fall silent. Instead, it became hotter and more surging. Facing a being of naturally high spiritual power like Ichigo, that instinct became hyper-active, eventually manifesting as the "Purity" he perceived.
But that didn't matter. What mattered was that Ichigo finally knew what Purity was, and he began to feel... his own Purity!
From the start, this Purity had existed. It had simply been ignored by Ichigo until this very moment, when it surfaced vividly. When Ichigo needed it, he could finally wield it.
In the world of Ichigo's inner consciousness, Old Man Zangetsu gazed at the sky. Though the storm in the inner world had stopped, lightning and thunder still flashed, symbolizing the unrest and turmoil of his heart. At that moment, the hem of Zangetsu's cloak vibrated violently. A pale hand reached out from within, accompanied by a wild, laughing voice:
"Old man, you suppressed me, but you never expected that one day Ichigo would call for me with his whole heart, did you...?"
Zangetsu did not speak, nor did he try to continue suppressing White Ichigo. It was meaningless. When Ichigo sought the beastly nature and wildness hidden in the depths of his instincts from the bottom of his heart, the process was unstoppable. Zangetsu only looked up, muttering to himself with a trace of worry:
"Ichigo... do not be swallowed by your instincts..."
A ragged martial artist, looking like a vagrant, fired a "Qi blast" at Ichigo. Ichigo, whose movements and reactions had been slightly sluggish, suddenly experienced a sharp contraction of his pupils. An extremely dangerous aura flared around him. Without moving his body, he merely tilted his head, dodging the blast by a fraction of a millimeter. Then, he clenched his fist.
The anger from being chased, the annoyance at Mo Yu's schemes, and the lingering fury of knowing Grand Fisher killed his mother—all these fires merged into one. He gripped that fury and unleashed it with the most explosive force, slamming it into the vagrant's chest.
No technique was needed; a pure, hearty venting of emotion was enough!
With a loud boom, the vagrant was sent flying, coughing up blood and slamming into the alley wall. Slumped against the cratered wall, the vagrant vomited more blood, but he felt no resentment. He stared at Ichigo and laughed:
"I felt your Purity. You're still green, but you're strong enough!"
Ichigo didn't answer. He stared at his hands for a long time before looking up and saying calmly to the vagrant: "Thank you. I have grown because of this."
Seeing Ichigo try to remain calm while his eyes betrayed a hideous, bestial nature, the vagrant's laughter grew louder:
"What a gaze! Now, step over me, the loser, and keep moving forward. Use the combat experience you've gnawed from my body in your next fight!"
Ichigo had no time for small talk; more martial artists were coming. But he no longer cared. In his ears, he heard a roar that was both real and illusory. Rising in his heart was an arrogant pride that looked down upon all things.
His instinct whispered... In this world, there is no enemy I cannot defeat!
Burned by the beastly fire within his soul, Ichigo felt infinite power welling up. But this power was dangerous—like a natural disaster filled with calamity. Every time he used it, he felt himself falling toward an abyss of no return.
But that didn't matter. Right now, Ichigo only wanted to fight and slaughter, to vent the violent power surging from his instincts.
He fought and retreated, moving with an erratic rhythm. He didn't need to plan; the routes to split the enemies and the perfect ambush points naturally surfaced in his mind. He didn't need to overthink; counter-attacks came to him as naturally as breathing.
Ichigo was being mobbed by martial artists. Though no one stepped in to help, many were watching him. Kisuke Urahara was one of them. He stood with a monocular, watching Ichigo's figure, and chuckled meaningfully: "Oho. That 'Purity' of the martial artists is truly a terrifying thing."
To Urahara, Ichigo had transformed from a rookie who had just awakened into a beast dangerous to the extreme. He was empty of thought, wanting nothing but the fight. He turned the cruelty and violence of his instincts into hunting skills, treating the entire city as his hunting ground, roaming and stalking in a trance.
Though his skills were still green, his combat power was formidable. Anyone approaching Ichigo with ill intent would be devoured.
Urahara watched for a while longer, then muttered to himself: "However, won't there be a problem if this continues? That 'Purity'... if I'm not mistaken, it's clearly Hollowification, isn't it?"
The holy voice from beyond descended: "Don't worry. Ichigo will be fine. So-called 'Purity' isn't as simple as Hollowification."
After forcefully defeating a martial artist at the cost of several punches to his back, Ichigo broke through the encirclement. His gaze became increasingly dangerous and cold.
Among the attacking fighters, there were ranks. The common ones were tough and used flashy moves, but their core technique was just a standard "Qi blast"—easy to handle once understood. The stronger ones were different. Every strike was synchronized with their "Qi," turning palms into blades and manifesting incredible variations. Ichigo's only setbacks since "opening" his Purity came from these elite fighters.
During the battle, Ichigo keenly realized that his combat style was flawed. As a supernatural rookie, his style originated from the basic Quincy techniques Uryu Ishida had taught him. The logic was simple: keep mobile, stay at a safe range, gather Reishi to create Arrows, and shoot the enemy until they die. If they don't die, increase the frequency and volume.
While effective, this style felt "clunky" to Ichigo. The beastly roar in his ear seemed to hold this method in utter contempt.
Quincy tactics were mature and battle-tested, but the fact that Quincies had been hunted to near-extinction suggested the "strength ceiling" of that style was limited. Ichigo instinctively began to revise his own way of fighting.
If he stayed far away, he was safe, but the enemy had more time to react. Thus, Ichigo stopped retreating. He took a step forward, closing the distance to maximize his superior reflexes.
He stopped gathering Reishi step-by-step to construct a bow. Instead, he violently siphoned Reishi, condensed it directly into an Arrow within his fist, and used a short-range strike to ram the power into the enemy.
He transformed from a long-range archer into a "Berserker Archer" who stabbed people with arrows held in his hands. This revision caused a mysterious change. Ichigo felt the power in his body boiling, as if something was waking up.
Finally, after a long struggle with an elite fighter, that power fully awakened.
Dozens, even hundreds of Arrows were condensed into his fist. Quantity triggered a qualitative change. When Ichigo threw a straight punch, a brilliant spiritual light erupted. A black-and-red pillar of energy shot out—like the slash of a blade, the thrust of a sword, or the pierce of a spear—blasting the enemy into oblivion.
At that moment, the name of this move surfaced in Ichigo's mind:
"Getsuga Tensho!" (Moon Fang Heaven-Piercer)
Having awakened his first true Finisher, Ichigo felt no joy. Instead, he collapsed from pure exhaustion. At the same time, the beastly roar in his ear grew more savage and arrogant, turning into a whisper:
"Trash... you're such trash! You can't even handle this level of combat before your body gives out? Trash! Stand up! Keep fighting and slaughtering!"
Ichigo's eyes began to be stained with darkness, his expression turning more vicious. Just then, a voice he didn't expect rang out:
"Kid. Swallowed by your bestial instincts... is that all your 'Purity' amounts to? I didn't hold much hope for you, but this look is truly pathetic!"
Ichigo looked up to see Grand Fisher. He was wearing a white suit, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums in his right hand and a tub of Vaseline in his left. He stood there with a sneering expression.
Massive hatred filled Ichigo's heart. He let out a beast-like shriek, and a bone-like liquid began to seep onto his face.
Fisher felt the danger but remained unfazed. He smiled thinly:
"Kid, think carefully. Who is it that truly wants to stand before me and fight? Is it you, or the beast in your heart? If it's the former, I can offer the expectations of a martial artist. If it's the latter, this is just a boring hunting excursion."
Suddenly, a cry rang out: "Kurosaki-kun!"
Ichigo glanced over and saw Orihime Inoue standing nearby, having appeared at some unknown moment.
Ichigo gritted his teeth and used every ounce of strength to crawl up. He stared at Fisher and said, word by word: "You bastard... you think too little of my 'Purity.' Watch... as I conquer this instinct."
From the fighters he had faced, Ichigo learned more than just Purity. He understood what a "Martial Artist" was. A true martial artist is not just a beast driven by instinct, but a monster who uses an extremely pure will to ride that terrifying instinct, hunting every enemy in sight to grow stronger.
How could a qualified martial artist surrender to his own instincts? That would be too unsightly. If the instinct doesn't listen, what do you do? Simple. You deal with it the martial artist's way.
Ichigo used his will as a fist and began to beat his own instinct into submission.
Inside Ichigo's inner world, White Ichigo—who had nearly climbed entirely out of Zangetsu's cloak—was laughing wildly. Suddenly, his laughter stopped. An invisible fist slammed into his face, followed by a storm of endless, brutal blows!
White Ichigo roared in agony: "Ichigo Kurosaki, you animal!!!!"
Having nearly escaped his seal, Whitey was beaten into a state of unconsciousness. Old Man Zangetsu's mouth twitched. He looked away, seemingly unable to bear the sight, and whispered:
"Well done, Ichigo. Your Purity has increased greatly!"
End of Chapter
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