The Terrifying Aizen

Although they had witnessed it before, the people around were still stunned by Hatake Sakumo's technique.

'It's a terrifying sword skill.' Orochimaru thought to himself, his face betraying a rare expression of awe.

Even Zashi and Yoru couldn't help but show pride. 

This was Konoha's White Fang, the pride of their faction—the man whose name struck fear throughout the shinobi world.

Countless times, when their faction had faced life-threatening crises, it was Hatake Sakumo who had turned the tide and ensured their survival. His strength was unparalleled in their eyes, and they had unwavering faith in his ability.

Their earlier worries about Aizen's power began to dissipate. 

After all, how could someone like Aizen—merely a young shinobi—stand a chance against Konoha's White Fang? 

Surely, it wouldn't take long before that cunning villain would fall beneath Sakumo's blade.

Meanwhile, Hyuga Gin, watching the fierce battle unfold, couldn't hide the flicker of worry in his eyes. Although Sakumo was his idol, he knew that if Aizen were defeated here, his own fate might not be favorable. 

As the tension in the air grew thick, the spectators around the battlefield stood in awe of Sakumo's technique. 

And yet, amidst the flashing white streaks of Sakumo's devastating sword strikes, Aizen appeared unnervingly calm. 

Adjusting his glasses with an almost dismissive gesture, a faint glimmer of disinterest flickered in his eyes. 

"So, this is the speed of Konoha's White Fang?" Aizen muttered softly. "It seems... simple enough to follow." 

With his enhanced perception—an insight honed to a frightening degree—Aizen read Sakumo's movements effortlessly.

Then, with almost casual ease, Aizen raised Kyōka Suigetsu. 

Clang!

The sharp clang of metal against metal echoed through the battlefield. 

Without so much as lifting his head, Aizen blocked Sakumo's strike—one of the most feared techniques in the ninja world—with unsettling grace. 

Sakumo's eyes widened in disbelief. How could anyone so effortlessly stop one of his attacks?

Turning slowly, Aizen met Sakumo's stunned gaze. His expression remained calm, and his voice was devoid of emotion. 

"The power of this strike... is rather disappointing. Blocking it was simpler than I expected." 

The cold disdain in Aizen's voice sent a wave of anger surging through Sakumo. 

"This guy...!" Sakumo gritted his teeth, his shock giving way to a burning fury. 

Without hesitation, Sakumo transformed into a flurry of white light, circling Aizen at high speed. 

Slash after slash—each one sharp enough to make even the most hardened Kage-level ninja tremble—was unleashed in rapid succession, cutting through the air like streaks of lightning. 

Yet, Aizen remained composed, deflecting each strike with Kyōka Suigetsu in hand. His movements were smooth, deliberate, and filled with unshakable confidence. 

Not once did his expression falter. Not once did he lose his aura of absolute control.

Aizen's eyes casually followed the swift movements of Hatake Sakumo, his blade, Kyōka Suigetsu, effortlessly parrying each of the White Fang's strikes.

Clang! Clang!

The clash of swords echoed through the battlefield, sharp and relentless.

Off to the side, Zashi and Yoru, who had been left in stunned silence after Aizen's first effortless block, now stood with their mouths agape.

They stared at Aizen, who stood calmly in place, deflecting every one of Sakumo's attacks as if he were taking a leisurely stroll through a garden. 

Their eyes brimmed with horror, disbelief etched across their faces.

Hyuga Gin stood frozen beside them, equally dumbfounded. 

Though Aizen was entirely on the defensive, it was clear to everyone who held the upper hand. Hatake Sakumo—the legendary White Fang—was undeniably at a disadvantage.

Orochimaru, however, was unfazed by the sight. He glanced at Zashi and Yoru with a hint of derision, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The battle raged on...

After a while, it became increasingly obvious that Aizen treated the duel like a casual game. 

Sakumo, realizing that his attacks were not even scratching the surface of Aizen's defenses, stopped abruptly and leaped back, retreating to conserve his chakra.

"Huh! Done already?" Aizen teased, his voice light and amused.

Seeing the slight shift in Sakumo's expression, Aizen's smile widened as he continued, "Since you've finished, it's my turn now."

The moment Aizen spoke, his figure blurred, vanishing in an instant. 

He transformed into countless afterimages, darting toward Sakumo with breathtaking speed.

With the combined power of his Sage Body, Reiatsu state, and Shunpo, Aizen's movements were so swift that even Sakumo's sharp eyes could barely track them. To him, it was as if countless phantoms surrounded him from all directions.

Sakumo didn't even have a moment to process his shock before Aizen's attacks rained down on him.

Slash! Chop! Stab! Strike! 

Simple, fundamental sword techniques—but in Aizen's hands, they became something extraordinary, as though mundane movements had been transformed into masterpieces of skill and precision.

Every cut carried overwhelming strength, and every strike was executed with unmatched speed and grace.

Faced with such relentless onslaught, Sakumo gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of his strength into blocking each deadly blow.

But it was clear—Aizen was forcing him into a desperate struggle for survival. The legendary White Fang of Konoha found himself overwhelmed, battling to keep up, his energy quickly draining.

Pfft!

In mere moments, Aizen's sword sliced across Sakumo's left shoulder and waist, leaving deep gashes that spilled crimson blood.

The sharp sting of pain spread through Sakumo's body as red droplets splattered across the battlefield, painting the ground beneath him.

Aizen remained motionless, his gaze calm as he watched Hatake Sakumo retreat hurriedly, clutching his wounds.

A contemptuous smile tugged at Aizen's lips. Holding Kyōka Suigetsu horizontally across his chest, he glanced at the streaks of blood staining the blade.

With the evolution of his kendo to the level of sword intent, each strike carried pure soul energy, making his attacks more than just physical. Even Hatake Sakumo's famed ability to convert his body into lightning could not grant him immunity from the mental assault embedded within the sword's intent.

Once struck by a sword intent-level slash, the damage extended beyond the body, wounding the very soul. No matter how formidable the opponent's recovery techniques or physical resistances, such damage would force any special states—like transformation or chakra cloaks—to unravel.

The fate of the Third Raikage had already proven this truth.

Aizen's cold, indifferent eyes reflected in the bloody surface of Kyōka Suigetsu, a mocking smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he cast off the blood from the blade, the droplets splattering across the ground. Without sparing Hatake Sakumo a second glance, Aizen snorted disdainfully:

"Is this the strength you were so confident in, Sakumo? How utterly disappointing."

Aizen's voice carried the weight of arrogance, his tone dripping with scorn. 

"The so-called White Fang—nothing but a speck of gravel, far beneath me."

As Aizen's final, derisive words echoed through the silent battlefield, an oppressive stillness fell over the scene.

"This... Aizen, this kid...?!"

Hatake Sakumo, still reeling from Aizen's devastating power, felt his heart tremble with unease. But as the full meaning of Aizen's words registered, his expression twisted into one of barely-contained fury.

He was Hatake Sakumo, the White Fang of Konoha, a name that commanded both respect and fear across the ninja world. When had he ever been belittled like this?

And to suffer such humiliation at the hands of a mere fifteen-year-old boy...

Yet, despite his pride, the undeniable truth gnawed at Sakumo's mind. 

Aizen's power—so casually wielded and effortlessly destructive—was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Even with all his skill, Sakumo realized, he had underestimated the young man before him.

This boy, no—this monster—was the strongest adversary Hatake Sakumo had ever faced.

There were no exceptions.

From the very moment the battle had begun, Sakumo had been forced onto the defensive. Aizen's sheer strength and precision had overwhelmed him, forcing him to admit—however reluctantly—that he stood no chance.

Even Sakumo, known for his unshakable composure, couldn't help but feel disbelief at the overwhelming might Aizen had displayed.