Bleach: Soi-Fon's Challenge Begins with Ultra Instinct

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A remote dojo. The wooden door creaked open as Su Li stepped inside, eyes sweeping over rows of black-clad, masked operatives arranged with military precision. He nodded in approval, satisfied with what he saw.

These were the elites—the high-ranking officers of the First and Second Units of the Stealth Force.

The First Unit, Xing Jun, dominated the space. Formerly under Sui-Feng's direct command, they specialized in assassinations, executions, and elite combat, making them the most powerful and essential branch of the covert force. Beside them stood the Second Unit—the Police Force—once managed by Omaeda and tasked with patrolling Seireitei and monitoring internal Shinigami activity. Less glamorous but strategically indispensable, their presence balanced the offensive capabilities of Xing Jun.

Together, these two units formed the backbone of the Onmitsukidō.

The absence of the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Units—each tied to bureaucratic functions—reflected Soul Society's entrenched system of checks and balances, a design meant to prevent any single faction from consolidating too much power. Yet Su Li had little interest in noble games or structural safeguards; his focus rested solely on the two forces before him.

As the operatives recognized their new commander, they straightened in unison, bodies rigid, gazes sharp, and posture perfect. The air turned heavy, tense with silent expectation. Word had already spread—there was a new commander of the army.

Standing before them in a pristine white captain's haori, Su Li smiled with a warmth that softened the atmosphere yet seemed oddly out of place among killers and enforcers. He appeared less like a warrior and more like a nobleman visiting his estate, an image that drew flickers of curiosity from many in the room.

"Xing Jun," Sui-Feng called out, nodding toward the left. The officers stiffened, spines snapping even straighter. "Police Squad," she added, glancing right, receiving an identical response. "All present," she finished with a light yawn, voice clipped and detached.

"Awaiting instructions from the new army commander!" Omaeda's voice rang out, unusually loud and ceremonial. Sui-Feng frowned slightly at his theatrical delivery, but Su Li offered a faint smile, flashing Omaeda a look of amused approval. For all his blundering, the man had an impeccable sense of timing; in another life, Su Li mused, he might have excelled in politics.

Turning toward the assembled elites, Su Li regarded them not as soldiers but as inherited legacies. These were men and women who had once pledged their loyalty to the Shihōin Clan, Soul Society's most distinguished noble house—a lineage not easily swayed.

For years, Xing Jun had operated as the Shihōin's personal army. Only after Yoruichi Shihōin and Kisuke Urahara defected to the Human World did command pass to Sui-Feng, herself a member of the subordinate Feng Clan. The Omaeda family, in turn, served the Fengs—placing them at the bottom of a long, noble hierarchy. That structure still lingered in spirit, evident in how Omaeda continued to address Sui-Feng as "Miss."

The truth was plain: Xing Jun and the Police Squad had always been private forces, and any outsider who tried to command them typically faced silent, systemic resistance.

Su Li, however, had a different approach.

He let the silence stretch before speaking in a calm, measured tone. "I know many of you once served the Shihōin, or the Feng Clan. I'm not from either. It's only natural some of you might doubt me—or resent an outsider standing here."

Though the agents' expressions revealed nothing, a subtle shift in posture suggested they were listening.

Omaeda, watching from the sidelines, chuckled softly to himself. "Look at this guy—talking like a saint already. Not the time... maybe later." His smirk flickered with equal parts amusement and reluctant admiration.

Su Li didn't pause. "Truthfully, I don't care about your feelings. Your loyalty isn't my concern."

"I have only one requirement—invincibility in assault, invincibility in combat. That's it."

The air grew denser, as if the entire dojo inhaled at once.

Several agents exchanged glances. If that was all he wanted—strength, not submission—then the terms were clear. That was duty, not politics.

Reaching into his sleeve, Su Li pulled out a scroll, a series of notes and diagrams he had compiled the previous night: his newly revised version of the White Hits technique.

"To reach that level, strength alone isn't enough. Technique matters. Mastery matters. I'll show you."

Unfastening his haori, he let it fall away as he moved into the open. The gesture drew murmurs across the room.

Even Sui-Feng and Omaeda blinked in surprise. They had anticipated a speech, perhaps a few gestures of authority followed by quiet observation. But Su Li was already preparing to train?

He had no interest in ceremony or soft diplomacy. His intent was clear—he was here to shape an army ready for war.

The operatives instinctively stepped back, forming a circle around him. Though skepticism simmered beneath the surface, none questioned his strength. He had humiliated Sui-Feng in open combat. He had dominated Kenpachi Zaraki in a fight that left the entire Eleventh Division stunned. His mastery of White Hits and Shunpo had become the talk of Seireitei.

And these were the exact disciplines in which the Stealth Force excelled.

So they watched—alert, uncertain, expectant.

Sui-Feng stood with arms crossed at the edge of the dojo, her expression unreadable. This was not the display she had expected.

Su Li stepped to the center, setting the scroll down beside him and scanning the room.

"The White Hits forms you've trained with are flawed."

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Disbelief flickered in narrowed eyes, and whispers began to stir. White Hits was a centuries-old discipline—taught, refined, and passed down through generations. If it were flawed, why had it become a cornerstone of the Shinigami Academy?

Even Sui-Feng bristled at the claim.

As the heir to a clan built on White Hits, she had mastered its intricacies since childhood. She and Yoruichi had ascended to their fearsome reputations through it. To hear a teenager dismiss it so casually?

Arrogance, she thought bitterly. Raw talent doesn't excuse ignorance.

"I'll admit he's gifted—but to insult White Hits in front of its heirs? Foolish. Disrespectful."

Omaeda stood frozen in place, sweat creeping down his temple. He didn't dare intervene. The tension was thick. A storm between Su Li and Sui-Feng was already brewing.

Su Li remained unfazed, ignoring the judgment radiating from the room as he settled into his stance.

"White Hits. Boxing technique. First form."

The punch snapped out—not with brute speed, but with clean, silent precision. It was unmistakably different.

No one spoke, but everyone noticed.

The angle of entry, the shift in weight, the torque—it wasn't traditional, but the refinement was undeniable. The technique radiated pressure, control, and power in a single fluid motion.

Even Sui-Feng's eyes narrowed.

This wasn't what she had been taught. It deviated from everything drilled into her since youth. And yet—it worked.

It worked perfectly.

And Su Li hadn't even begun to sweat.

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