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Clang!
In the blink of an eye, the two icy-cold ninja swords collided, sparks bursting in every direction. A violent surge of sword energy erupted between them, slicing clean gashes into their porcelain-white masks.
Yet, the Root operative's strike lacked the sheer weight behind Ye Dou's gravity-infused thrust. Though precise, it couldn't compare to the overwhelming force of Ye Dou's attack—an enhanced downward stab empowered by the Gravity Fruit ability he had mastered.
Crack!
A cold glint shimmered in the night sky—Ye Dou's blade sliced through his opponent's weapon, splitting the chakra-conductive steel with brutal ease. The Root ninja's sword fractured, then snapped completely in two with a sharp, clean break.
But Ye Dou didn't pause. He wasn't satisfied. His momentum continued as his blade arced straight toward the enemy's exposed throat—intent on claiming his life.
Shnk!
There was no resistance. The Root agent's body, suspended in midair, was decapitated in one swift, decisive strike.
Thud. Thud...
The corpse hit the ground in two parts—first the torso, then the head. Even in death, the Root operative's body twitched. Ye Dou's strike had been so forceful, so fast, that the enemy's brain had no time to register the trauma. For a moment, his dying eyes remained open, filled with disbelief as the fox-patterned mask slipped from his face, revealing the expression of a man shocked by his own death.
He stared at Ye Dou—then at his own severed body, still gushing blood—until the light in his eyes finally faded.
The other Root operatives froze.
Their boiling blood, moments ago fired up with tension, was instantly doused—as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over their hearts.
Close combat meant certain death.
Long-range ninjutsu was futile—reflected by the strange gravity barrier Ye Dou had placed.
Even genjutsu? Broken instantly, dispelled before taking hold.
How does one kill such a monster?
The figure before them, masked and soaked in blood, exuded an overwhelming aura. Even among shinobi hardened by death, there was hesitation, fear. He didn't just kill—he executed.
A walking god of slaughter.
Clack!
Ye Dou discarded his damaged sword without ceremony. Without even blinking, he activated a sealing tag on his wrist—a small puff of chakra smoke released another chakra-conductive blade directly into his hand.
Boom!
As the summoning smoke faded, Root agents tensed. Another chakra-enhanced blade—just like that?
In the modern shinobi world, ninja blades fell into three broad categories:
1. Basic Steel Blades – common weapons, sharp but devoid of chakra-flow capabilities.
2. Chakra-Conductive Blades – forged from rare materials capable of channeling chakra, enhancing sharpness and elemental techniques.
3. Legendary Blades – like the Seven Ninja Swordsmen's tools, Kusanagi, and Raijin no Ken, relics known throughout the shinobi world for their power and heritage.
But the third type was rare. So rare, even across all five nations, fewer than twenty were known to exist.
The second category, which Ye Dou was casually summoning again and again, was already considered highly precious. Materials that could conduct chakra—like chakra metal—were incredibly expensive. Most jonin-level shinobi might own one and guard it like a sacred heirloom.
But Ye Dou?
How many had he already used and discarded in this single battle?
Too many to count.
From kunai to shuriken, senbon to explosive tags—he used everything in excess, as if wealth meant nothing to him.
The Root agents couldn't comprehend how someone could be so extravagantly armed. Had he plundered every ninja store in the Land of Fire? Or was he the inheritor of some forgotten clan's hidden treasury?
It was enough to arm a private ninja battalion.
Yet there was no time to speculate. Ye Dou had already replaced his sword and was moving again—this time targeting the Root operatives specializing in genjutsu.
That earlier counter-attack had been risky. Too risky. Ye Dou had no interest in repeating that danger. He would eliminate the illusion specialists before they could cast again.
"Where's the sensory ninja?! Find his shadow clone—now!"
Aburame Take-Root, still alive by sheer luck, shouted from the rear. He had been just outside the radius of Ye Dou's gravity field earlier and narrowly avoided death. But his condition was worsening—a shuriken had pierced his shoulder, and the bleeding wouldn't stop.
Still, there was no time for treatment. He needed to coordinate the remaining Root forces before they were wiped out.
This forest—Nanhechuan—was no longer familiar territory. It had been transformed. Trap-laden, chakra-fortified, deadly.
Fighting Ye Dou was already brutal. Fighting him inside his own battlefield was suicide.
Worse, the man's movements suggested a weakness to genjutsu—he clearly prioritized eliminating those shinobi first. If they could only regroup and form a combined strike...
[Flying Thunder God Slash...?]
The battle raged on. Ninjutsu and taijutsu collided, twisting the forest into a warzone.
Shunk!
Another Root operative fell—Ye Dou's sword piercing clean through his chest.
"No!" he cried, blood bubbling from his mouth. Ye Dou didn't stop. With a twist of his blade, he shattered the ninja's heart, ensuring instant death.
"Asuka!"
A companion screamed in horror as the fallen man was beheaded next.
How?
These were Konoha's elite. The shadows behind the Hokage. The backbone of its hidden power. Equal in training to the ANBU black ops. How were they being butchered like cattle?
Someone finally snapped. Trembling, a Root ninja took several steps back—breaking formation.
This was the second time he had ever felt such paralyzing fear.
"Don't fall back! Don't be scared—he's just one man!"
A ninja shouted—a sturdy man with a bo staff and no hesitation.
His code name: Jizō.
Real names weren't used on Root missions. Only codenames, for operational secrecy. Even the ANBU followed this protocol.
Jizō stood at the front, unyielding. He had seen war—he had survived the Third Great Ninja War, walked through fields of blood and fire.
He wasn't about to retreat from one man—even if that man fought like a demon.
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