Chương 54: The Mist Ninja’s Misery

After nearly a decade in this world, Dongye Zhen finally witnessed the true, unvarnished machinery of war in motion. There was no diplomatic posturing, no tactical parleying to extract secrets. The clash between Konoha and the Hidden Mist was a collision of raw, ancestral hatred. To these shinobi, the sight of a rival headband was not a signal for caution—it was a mandate for slaughter. A dozen Mist ninja attempted a desperate, scattered breakout, but Konoha held the absolute advantage of numbers.

Every Mist operative was instantly swarmed by multiple adversaries. Yet, these water-users were tempered in the crucible of the "Bloody Mist"; none opted for the hollow mercy of surrender. Their education allowed for no such weakness. They were as ruthless toward their own lives as they were toward their enemies. The initial volley of high-level jutsu erupted in a cacophony of thunderous water and earth, followed immediately by the staccato rhythm of clashing steel. The outcome was never in doubt.

Without a transcendent powerhouse to tilt the scales, raw numbers dictated the narrative of the lake. Even in the realm of Water Style, Konoha's veterans proved superior—or at least more efficient. Their Water Dragon Bullets didn't require forty-four tedious hand seals to manifest. Somewhere in the Pure Land, a certain white-haired Senju ghost was likely scoffing: "That's my jutsu. I invented every last one of them." The skirmish was a blur, ending as abruptly as it began.

Such was the nature of shinobi combat: brief, intense, and final. From the perimeter, the Genin rookies watched the carnage with a mix of awe and trepidation. It was their first real look at how Chunin and Jonin dismantled an enemy. They remained on "Observer Status," mere spectators to the lethal ballet. There was no reason to throw their lives away for a fight already won; they were here to absorb experience and collect the "merit" of the cleanup.

Whatever the elders preached about the "Will of Fire," the veterans on the ground practiced a version that remained untainted. In the chaos of battle, they reflexively stepped in front of their juniors, acting as the shield for the next generation. Team 3 held the sector between the lake and the deeper woods. To their left stood Tokuma's squad; to their right, the future "Gatekeepers," Izumo and Kotetsu.

Though Tokuma had made Chunin during the last exams, his teammates had not, keeping the squad technically at Genin status. Zhen stood atop a sturdy branch, his gaze fixed on the fading smoke. He had the strength to dominate, but he lacked the ego to seek the spotlight. He was content to stay in the shadows unless the situation demanded otherwise. Providence, however, had other plans. Through his sensory range, Zhen picked up a flicker of chakra—a "clever fox" who had managed to slip through the initial dragnet.

The survivor was making a break directly toward their position.

"Battle stations," Zhen commanded, his voice level.

"We have a runner." Hayate and Yugao didn't hesitate. They drew their blades, their bodies coiled like springs. Moments later, a kunoichi in her early twenties stumbled out of the treeline. She was a grisly sight—a human pincushion, bristling with nearly a dozen kunai. One was buried perilously close to her heart. Whether through some anatomical quirk or sheer, desperate willpower, she was still moving. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She knew the forest was a trap, but she had no choice. She molded her remaining chakra, unleashing a B-rank Water Style: Exploding Water Colliding Wave to clear her path. She wasn't seeking kills; she was seeking an opening. A wall of churning water surged toward them. It wasn't the ocean-swallowing torrent of a Kisame Hoshigaki, but the impact was still formidable. Zhen dropped to the forest floor, his feet rooting deep into the soil. Trusting him implicitly, Hayate and Yugao landed in his shadow.

Zhen extended his hands, chakra bleeding from his fingertips to weave a translucent, azure dome. Water Style: One Corner's Tranquility. The barrier held firm as the flood crashed over them. It rippled and deformed under the pressure, yet it remained as unyielding as a mountain—a soap bubble that refused to pop. The wounded Mist ninja, her consciousness fading into a gray haze, barely noticed the anomaly. She followed the wake of her jutsu, charging blindly toward the three "brats" standing in her path.

Hayate and Yugao, no longer strangers to the art of the kill, lunged forward. Zhen, sensing the enemy's bone-dry chakra reserves and glazed eyes, shouted a quick correction: "Take her alive!" Their blades shifted mid-air. With clinical precision, the two swordsmen severed her tendons—wrists and ankles—in a synchronized blur. As they passed her, Hayate delivered a crisp roundhouse kick, sending the crippled woman hurtling back toward Zhen. Zhen side-stepped the projectile.

He felt Tokuma's squad arriving as support on his flank and decided to spread the wealth. With a sharp palm strike to the base of her skull, he redirected the falling kunoichi into Tokuma's path. Tokuma Hyuga didn't miss a beat. He met the flying Mist ninja with a flurry of Gentle Fist strikes, sealing her remaining tenketsu. Beside him, Muta Aburame deployed his Kikaichu to drain the last dregs of her chakra.

The unfortunate Mist ninja had survived a massacre only to stumble into two squads of Konoha's most ambitious Genin. She had been dismantled with the surgical fluidity of a practiced drill. Had she been conscious, she likely would have bitten her tongue in despair—or perhaps written "Tragedy" across her brow. In the shinobi world, beauty granted no quarter. If an opening existed, it was exploited without hesitation.

"Good catch," Zhen noted, stepping forward. His hands glowed with the emerald light of Medical Ninjutsu. He cautiously removed the self-destruct seals hidden in her gear and the poison capsules from her mouth before stabilizing her wounds. A live prisoner was a precious resource. As he worked, a dark thought crossed his mind. Beautiful, captive, and incapacitated—this was a scenario straight out of the more "wretched" scrolls of his previous life's imagination.

But as he cleared her airway, the sight of her serrated, shark-like teeth—the hallmark of the Mist—quickly dissolved any such lingering fantasies. Sharp teeth... bad for the equipment. It was no wonder Mei Terumi remained single. Despite her overwhelming beauty, the combination of shark teeth and corrosive Lava Release was a daunting prospect for any suitor. Tokuma watched Zhen work, his irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Zhen, honestly. Incredible sensing, high-tier defensive jutsu, and now Medical Ninjutsu? You really are a monster, aren't you?"

"My, Tokuma. Why the insults? I was almost going to share the credit for this capture with your team." Tokuma immediately performed a mock-serious bow.

"I retract my statement. Please, by all means, share the credit." The boy was a far cry from the brooding archetypes of the Hyuga branch. Yunmi Gekko and Hizuki Sarutobi arrived moments later. The battle at the lake had concluded. They appeared untouched, their uniforms pristine and their hair unruffled.

"A live one?" Yunmi noted, surprised.

"Well done."

"Don't tell me all those veterans couldn't keep a single one alive?" Yugao asked. Yunmi sighed. Hizuki scratched his head awkwardly.

"Ah... the Mist are fanatics. The moment they realized the end was near, they started slapping explosive tags to their own skulls. Nobody wanted to get caught in the blast just for a prisoner." Yunmi quickly steered the conversation away from the embarrassment.

"Enough. You two squads have done exceptionally well. This is a major contribution. Let's regroup at the shore and tend to the wounded."