Zixu didn't stop. The Mist-nin reacted immediately. Seeing the prison in chaos, the jailers and guards swarmed like hornets whose nest had been struck, surrounding Zixu and the others from all directions.
Zixu's plan? There was no plan—just rush straight out. But Zabuza and the other man beside him couldn't afford to be so reckless, so he had to take a softer approach.
"Stay close," Zixu reminded.
Zabuza glanced at the Mist-nin swarming in, completely blocking any clear escape route. How were they supposed to break through?
The next second, he understood.
Zixu pulled a thick iron rod from thin air, his entire body swelling in size. His muscles expanded, forming an armor-like layer over his frame, and a strange dark sheen covered both his arms and the iron rod.
"Pay attention," Zixu warned again. He faced the incoming Mist-nin with no hint of panic. Being surrounded was the least of his worries.
Dark blue lightning crackled around the "Brother Brand Iron Stick," radiating an oppressive energy. Zabuza and Haku felt nothing—Zixu had deliberately shielded them from it—but the Mist-nin weren't so lucky.
At first, Zixu merely looked physically imposing. After all, a man growing from 1.8 meters to 4 meters was shocking, but not unheard of. The Akimichi clan of Konoha could pull off similar feats with their Multi-Size Technique. The Mist-nin had seen their fair share of monsters before.
But what happened next was beyond their comprehension.
A terrifying aura exploded from Zixu, targeting their spirit and will. The sheer pressure made it feel as if they were insects beneath the gaze of an ancient beast.
Some civilians watching from the sidelines fainted on the spot, dropping their half-eaten snacks before they could even react.
Zixu raised his weapon.
Black lightning crackled along the iron rod, twisting and flickering like a restless spirit with a bad temper.
"Buzz—"
Zixu didn't aim at anyone. He simply swung the rod skyward.
Yet the ground beneath him fractured instantly. Spiderweb-like cracks spread in every direction. Broken stones, like shattered safety glass, trembled on the ground.
The surrounding buildings suffered minor damage—Zixu had deliberately controlled his power. After all, he planned to establish a nation soon and had no intention of provoking an all-out war with the Mist just yet.
Even so, most of the Mist-nin collapsed as if struck by an invisible force, their eyes rolling back. They hit the ground like fish knocked unconscious with the back of a blade.
The scene resembled a farmer harvesting wheat—entire groups cut down in an instant.
Ignoring the few still standing, Zixu took off.
"Don't just stand there! Act tough and then run! That was fun as hell!" He disappeared in a flash, clearly experienced at making quick getaways.
"Are we really going to his village?" Zabuza asked as he ran, calculating the odds of escaping now. "Once we step in, we might never leave."
He had his pride. Between death and captivity, he refused to lose his freedom. If Zixu tried to imprison him, things would turn ugly. He was willing to repay his debt, but not at the cost of his autonomy.
"Let's take a look first," Haku murmured, eyes still closed as he lay on Zabuza's back. "If it's not what we expected, we can leave. I don't think Zixu would stop us—he's not that kind of person."
"Really? If I get caught again, I'm not holding back," Zabuza muttered, tapping the hilt of his sword as he turned his gaze away.
Zixu ignored Zabuza's doubts. His mind was elsewhere.
What the hell happened in his village?
With Hyuga Chinano and Karin's strength, there shouldn't have been any major problems. And if things got out of hand, Ichikishima-hime should've been able to handle it. Not to mention, he had specifically ordered them to release Aburame Hatsuizumi if necessary.
"Ah-choo!"
Ichikishima-hime sneezed, rubbing her pink nose.
"Feels like I forgot something… Eh, probably not important."
The journey back was uneventful. The Mist-nin didn't send many pursuers—either they realized it was pointless, or they were too preoccupied with their vacant Mizukage seat.
Zabuza hadn't said it outright, but Zixu had a hunch that Mangetsu might be the leading candidate for Mizukage. It was just speculation, though, so he didn't ask for details.
As they neared their destination, an uneasy feeling crept up Zixu's spine.
"What the hell...?"
The sight before him wasn't what he remembered.
The once-thriving forest outside his village was gone—reduced to a scorched wasteland.
"Where's my massive forest? Who the hell bombed my land?!"
Zixu scanned the battlefield. There were signs of a recent attack—steel needles, shattered iron weapons, pale clay scattered like freshly tilled soil, and even bullet casings.
He clicked his tongue.
"Figures. Someone's making a move. Guess it's time to announce the founding of a village—no, a nation."
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a whirlwind, sweeping up the ashes and debris. Good fertilizer shouldn't go to waste—he'd treat this like slash-and-burn agriculture.
"We're here," Zixu said, coming to a stop.
Zabuza hesitated as he saw Zixu speaking to a… rock?
With a shrug, he followed. Either it was some kind of illusion, or he was about to walk into something insane.
What lay before him was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Steel structures towered over the landscape, gleaming with an eerie mix of technology and shinobi influence. Children ran around, casually holding weapons that looked like advanced kunai launchers. Trams sped by on metallic rails. A giant electronic screen played various programs in the background.
And then, there were the prosthetics.
Across all the shinobi villages, injured ninjas were often left crippled, unable to return to battle. Prosthetic limbs existed, but they were mostly decorative—useless in actual combat.
But here?
A man casually removed his arm, scratching an itch before reattaching it. Moments ago, that same arm had been performing shadow puppets to entertain children.
Zabuza's eyes narrowed.
"What the hell is this place…?"
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