Chương 101: The Shinobi World’s Weightlifting Champion

It is a trivial truth of the shinobi world: the Northern Front is, quite literally, in the North. Separated from the perennially neutral Land of Iron only by a few buffer states like the Land of Artisans, the region had been Zhen's home for a week now. September was bleeding into October, a month that usually heralded a biting frost in the northern reaches of the Land of Fire. Shinobi are peculiar creatures.

Perhaps it is the constant saturation of chakra—an energy that makes them more plant than man—that grants them an uncanny resistance to the cold. It is a common sight to see them sprinting through blizzards in nothing but a light mantle, their exposed toes indifferent to the threat of necrosis. Heat, however, is their undoing. At the slightest rise in temperature, they wilt like unwatered ferns, falling prey to heatstroke with a frequency that borders on the absurd.

Whether it was a karmic response to the blood spilled in recent years or a mere atmospheric anomaly, this year's climate was erratic. Even as October approached, the North remained trapped in a sweltering, oppressive haze. With no active skirmishes to attend to, one might expect a man of Jiraiya's tastes to seek out the "red-light" districts of the neighboring Land of Frost under the guise of intelligence gathering.

However, with Minato Namikaze having departed for the village to prepare for his succession, Jiraiya found himself tethered to his post as supreme commander. For all his eccentricities, the Sannin was a man of integrity when the stakes were high. If he couldn't leave, no one could. Inside the barracks, a unique gathering had taken place. Zhen's squad and his father's team were sharing tea and insights into their respective cultivations. The room was a microcosm of a rising power block.

Present were Jiro Dongye, Yuwa Uzuki, and his younger brother, Uzuki Yashimura—a shinobi in his late twenties who bore a striking resemblance to Yuwa. This chamber held the combined strength of the Dongye, Gekko, and Uzuki families: a tightly knit coalition of interests. With a shared heritage of secret techniques and the blossoming bond between Zhen, Hayate, and Yugao, the foundation of this alliance was becoming unshakable.

As Zhen's monstrous talent translated into world-shaking power, this triumvirate would inevitably become a dominant voice within the Konoha hierarchy. This was the fundamental divide between an orphaned transmigrator and one with a living lineage. Whether Zhen desired it or not, he carried the survival and prosperity of nearly twenty kin on his shoulders. The burden was an invisible web that tightened with every passing day.

If I eventually have to carry the entire village on my back too, Zhen mused, I'll officially be the world's greatest weightlifter. What is this, some kind of "Young Lord-Protector" simulation? Minato Namikaze was no fool. Behind his sun-kissed disposition lay a razor-sharp political mind. He had recognized the potential of this fledgling faction long ago. It was why he had campaigned so fiercely for Jiro and Yuwa's promotions to Jonin, and why he had ensured Jiraiya placed the three families in the same sector.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Minato understood a truth that eluded many: power in the shinobi world wasn't measured by headcount, but by the presence of a singular, decisive apex predator. As long as Zhen lived, this alliance was an unstoppable force. In many ways, Minato's political maneuvering was more reminiscent of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, than his own master or the incumbent Third.

He possessed the warmth to lead but the steel to navigate the darkness without being consumed by it. He was the antithesis of Hiruzen Sarutobi, who had outsourced his "sins" to Danzo Shimura, inadvertently creating a tumor like Root that he could no longer excise. The aroma of tea permeated the barracks, yet each of the seven shinobi held something peculiar between their fingers. They weren't smoking. They were "lithic cigars"—small stones being carved by invisible scalpels of Wind Style chakra.

It was a training method Zhen had devised to refine their elemental affinity. Fortune had favored this alliance; almost every member possessed a natural affinity for Wind. For those who didn't, like the wives who had married into the clans, the path was different, but for the core members, Wind was their future. With Zhen's mastery, he could eventually reverse-engineer Danzo's "Vacuum" series of jutsus, beating the old war hawk at his own game. They had long moved past the stage of slicing leaves.

Now, they toyed with stones, shaping them into cylinders or intricate carvings. The next step in Zhen's curriculum was far more brutal: detonating the chakra within a stone to shred it into fine grains in a single burst. As for slicing waterfalls? Zhen had advised against it. That was a path reserved for those with bottomless chakra reserves—monsters like Naruto with his Uzumaki blood or Zhen himself, whose body had been tempered by natural energy.

For a common shinobi, such a feat was a one-way ticket to cardiac arrest. Yugao, perhaps distracted by the conversation or over-eager in her training, took a sip of tea and immediately winced, the scalding liquid burning her tongue. With a pout, she slid the cup toward Zhen. Jiro watched his son, his brow furrowing. He felt a lecture on discipline brewing. She isn't even married into the family yet, and she's already making him blow on her tea? This won't do. I'll have to tell Sakura to give her a talk on decorum.

Before he could speak, Zhen reached out and grasped the cup. A sudden, crystalline frost erupted from his palm. The steam vanished, replaced by a chilling mist. The tea was instantly transformed into a frigid refreshment. Yugao took a long, satisfied gulp, a blissful smile on her face. Hayate silently slid his own cup forward, his own attempts at learning the Ice Release being... less than stellar. Yuwa pointed at the frozen cup, then at Zhen, then finally at Jiro.

"I... what... how?" Brother, his eyes shouted at Jiro, your son is broken. Actually, your whole family tree is suspicious! Jiro rubbed his head, his mind reeling. Did Megumi... no, she definitely doesn't know anyone from the Yuki Clan of the Land of Water. Right? Unken Gekko rolled his eyes at Yuwa's shock.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's just Ice Release. Zhen saw a Yuki clan member use it on the Eastern Front and spent a few days mimicing the frequency. He fused the properties of high-speed wind with water chakra. Simple." Yuwa stared at him. Simple? You call that simple? I'm not speaking to you anymore. You've lost your humanity.

"Zhen," Jiro asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Is your teacher telling the truth? This was cultivated? Not... a latent bloodline awakening?"

"Pure cultivation, Father. I just simulated the molecular vibration. It's a matter of resonance."

"Oh. Good." Jiro exhaled, the weight of a potential domestic scandal lifting from his heart.

"Actually, it's not 'good', Father," Zhen said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I know exactly what you were thinking just now. I'll be sure to mention your suspicions to Mother when we get back." Jiro's face paled, then he forced a laugh.

"Hah! I'm a Jonin! Let her try to give me a thrashing. It'll be... character building!"