Chương 72: Counter-Offensive Against the Mist (IV)—Total Victory

It is a well-documented reality that most ninjutsu originates from the mouth. Consequently, in the heat of a true life-and-death struggle, no shinobi is foolish enough to shout the name of their technique mid-cast—unless they enjoy a mouth full of gravel or a stray kunai. Dongye Zhen was no exception. Even with his mouth free, he maintained a lethal silence. Thus, while the observers recognized the foundational geometry of the Earth-Style Wall, none realized it was a Sage Art.

This led to a collective, bewildered internal monologue: I know the jutsu, but why in the hell is it the size of a mountain? Zhen's silent retort was simple: Is it a wall or not? If it works, stop complaining. The rank-and-file Konoha forces were still reeling from the sheer scale of the defense, but those standing directly beside Zhen—his teammates—had a front-row seat to the miracle. Hayate Gekko stared at the monolithic ramparts that had parted the sea.

"Father... something is wrong here. Can a standard Earth-Style Wall really reach the clouds?"

"Aha... right," Yunmi Gekko stammered, his eyes wide.

"Yes. Perfectly normal. It's... a wall." Yugao Uzuki, however, looked at Hayate as if he were simply slow.

"Zhen-niisan is incredible. Naturally, his jutsu are incredible. Is there a problem?" Hayate: "..." Zhen shot a glance at the young girl. It's "Zhen-niisan" when I save your life, but just "Zhen" when you want a sparring partner. You're going places, kid. Seeing the crisis averted, Uchiha Sosuke was seized by a surge of adrenaline. He didn't waste time looking for the benefactor. He raised his blade and roared at the unit, "Charge! Cut these Mist bastards down!"

"YEAH!" The battle cry echoed, but the momentum stalled almost instantly. The men looked at the towering earthen barrier in front of them. How are we supposed to charge? Scale the wall first? Zhen didn't let the awkwardness linger. With a flicker, he appeared at the vanguard. His fingers wove a single, fluid sign. The massive barrier fissured at its central joint, the monolithic slabs groaning as they began to tilt forward, collapsing toward the Mist positions on the slope like the heavens themselves were falling.

The Mist ninjas looked up. The sky went dark. Their reaction was instinctual and panicked—they broke and ran. BOOM! The impact was cataclysmic. The earth shuddered; a roar like a mountain's death-throe echoed for miles, and a localized sandstorm of dust and debris choked the air. Zhen drew the short blade from his back. With three blurring horizontal slashes, he unleashed the stored white natural energy in a violent vacuum discharge. Sage Art: Wind Style: Invisible Blade.

Three nearly translucent crescents of pressurized air shrieked across the hillside. They acted like a cosmic razor, shaving the forest bald in an instant. The resulting gale swept the dust and lingering mist away with contemptuous ease. Clarity returned to the battlefield. Those Mist ninjas with enough reflex to leap clear survived; those who were a fraction too slow were treated to the grisly sight of their own lower halves still perched in the trees or pinned under stone. Zhen leveled his blade at the stronghold.

"Forward!" He was the first to vault over the wreckage. Spurred by the display of god-like power, the Konoha shinobi surged up the hill with a primal roar. They were an unstoppable tide. The Mist, their fighting spirit shattered by the "monster" in the Leaf's ranks, abandoned all pretense of a defense. They fled toward the cliffs in a panicked, disordered rout. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. It wasn't a battle anymore. It was a slaughter.

By the time Fugaku Uchiha arrived with the main body of the army, the heavy lifting was over. The Seventh Unit was already busy processing the dead and securing the perimeter. The cliffs hadn't been a total dead end; the Konoha detachment at the base was too small to catch everyone, and a handful of Mist elites had managed to leap into the sea. The commanders didn't bother with a pursuit. Let the survivors carry the tale back—fear was a more effective weapon than a clean sweep.

When Fugaku learned the details of the engagement, he offered Zhen a public commendation, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of melancholy. The Uchiha Clan Head was a man haunted by the "Curse of Genius." What is wrong with this world? he wondered. Does fate have a personal vendetta against the Uchiha? When the Uchiha produced Madara, a titan of war, the world responded with Hashirama Senju—a man so effortlessly powerful he eclipsed the Uchiha's greatest pride.

When Fugaku reached his prime, intent on restoring his clan's glory, Minato Namikaze appeared, flickering through the battlefield like a golden god. Now, just as Shisui Uchiha was blossoming into a generational talent, this "Dongye Zhen" appeared out of nowhere. The world, it seemed, refused to let the Uchiha stand alone at the peak. It's a rotten world, Fugaku mused bitterly. Unbeknownst to the victors, two other observers were lingering in the shadows.

Orochimaru stood atop a distant cedar, a serpent-like smile playing on his lips as his tongue flickered out to taste the air. He had authorized this strike, but he hadn't expected a masterpiece. He watched Zhen with a hungry, predatory curiosity. Dongye Zhen... there is something deeply fascinating about you. Further away, on a jagged ridge, two anomalies watched the retreating Leaf forces. One was a masked man with a single visible eye; the other, a bi-colored creature encased in a venus-flytrap shroud.

"An impressive brat," Black Zetsu croaked in his raspy, dissonant voice.

"Do you know him, Obito?"

"Call me Madara," the masked man snapped, though the name Dongye Zhen conjured a memory of a stinging verbal jab in a hospital hallway. He brushed it off with feigned indifference.

"His name is Zhen. A mere child."

"He seems more than that. That power he used... it felt foreign. Primeval."

"It matters not," Obito replied, his voice cold.

"Without the bloodline of the Sage, a ninja is just a bird in a cage. He is another Kakashi—a flash in the pan."

"Are you sure? I think he warrants a closer look. Besides, his sensory range is massive. We should leave before he notices us." Obito activated Kamui, the space around his eye spiraling inward. Before he vanished, he couldn't resist one final, arrogant boast.

"Hmph. Mere pebbles. He doesn't possess half the weight of myself or Hashirama." Black Zetsu: "..." Does he actually believe his own lies now? When the Konoha forces reached the primary Mist headquarters, they found only the remnants of a hasty departure. Most of the Mist had already boarded ships and vanished into the fog of the Great Sea. The victory was total, but oddly hollow. Fugaku stood amidst the abandoned tents, looking like a man who had arrived at a party just as the music stopped.

I haven't even exerted myself yet, and you've already folded, he thought. Zhen jogged up from the rear of the camp.

"Lord Fugaku, as expected, the bulk of the Mist forces have evacuated by sea. Do we pursue?"

"Zhen, you are Shisui's friend. There is no need for such formality. Call me Uncle if you wish." Fugaku's expression softened significantly.

"As for the pursuit... no. Engaging the Mist on open water is a fool's errand."

"Understood, Uncle Fugaku." Zhen didn't mind the familiarity; he wasn't thin-skinned enough to care about a title.

"Good. We are kin in spirit, if not blood. My eldest son is four this year—a bright boy. He could learn much from a talent like you. When we return to the village, I'll have Shisui introduce you." Zhen: "..." The "Filial Son" himself? I'm not sure I want to meet the kid who eventually knifes the whole family tree. Then again... he can't beat me now, and he won't beat me later. Why am I worried? Uchiha Sosuke approached the pair, looking puzzled.

"Clan Head, we've cleared the camp, but I noticed something strange. There were almost no clan ninjas among the dead—specifically the bloodline families. What's the word from the other units?" Fugaku nodded, his tactical mind overriding his melancholy.

"It seems the rumors of internal strife in the Mist were true. The divide between the 'common' shinobi and the bloodline clans is a chasm. They likely used the commoners as fodder to buy time for the clans to escape." Zhen recalled his sensory scan from earlier. He had felt several unique chakra signatures leaving the coast—one, in particular, belonged to a massive presence carrying a monstrous weapon. Likely Fuguki Suikazan.

The man had probably heard a "Konoha monster" was on the prowl and developed an immediate case of PTSD.

"A shortsighted village," Fugaku spat, his disdain for the Mist evident.

"Though, it works in our favor. I hope they keep tearing each other apart until every bloodline among them is extinguished." Suzaku Nara shot Fugaku a dry, unreadable look. Bold words from a man whose family is the most infamous bloodline in history. Just as the army prepared to move out, the ground suddenly groaned. A colossal, violet serpent erupted from the earth, flattening the remnants of the Mist headquarters into splinters.

The Great Snake Manda hissed a few choice curses at its summoner before the contract was snapped, and it vanished in a cloud of white smoke. Fugaku: "..." Seriously, Orochimaru? You wait until the war is won, then summon a boss-level monster just to crush some empty tents and steal the final spotlight? Fugaku felt the weight of the world again. This world... it really is the worst.