After eliminating every member of the scouting team, Inoiki didn't move. He stood still, calm and calculating, letting his Observation Haki spread across the entire village. Every chakra signature, every shift in movement—he tracked them all with surgical precision. His actions weren't impulsive; they were part of a deliberate strategy. By wiping out the entire team, he ensured that attention would zero in on him. With the enemy focused entirely on his location, the odds of rescuing Kurotsuchi without interference drastically improved.
Just as he anticipated, the plan began to unfold. Within minutes, the rogue ninja commander noticed something was off—one of his scouting teams hadn't reported back from their designated zone. The remaining scout teams that returned brought no good news. Instead, they reported that in every sector they were sent to investigate, all the ninjas had been killed, each with a clean cut to their neck. Each area had lost approximately forty ninjas.
A cold wave of dread swept over the commander. If the numbers were accurate, over two hundred of his soldiers had been wiped out in one coordinated onslaught. He didn't hesitate. Realizing the scale of the threat, he immediately dispatched a force of additional fifty ninjas to set up an ambush around Kurotsuchi's location.
With the loss of over two hundred men still fresh in his mind, the rogue commander took direct action. He mobilized the remaining two hundred ninjas under his command, determined to hunt down the mysterious intruders responsible for the massacre. He believed he was pursuing a well-coordinated enemy squad—unaware it was the work of a single, relentless force.
Orders rippled across the ranks, and the entire force began moving as directed. Inoiki, still cloaked in silence, monitored everything. His Observation Haki picked up on the shifts in chakra and movement instantly. Every step, every tactical deployment—they were all visible to him like pieces on a board. His plan had gone off without a single misstep.
With the majority of the enemy forces drawn away, Inoiki set out for Kurotsuchi. He knew her chakra signature well—distinct, familiar, and unmistakable. Using that connection, he navigated the village with precision, slipping through alleys and over rooftops, moving like a shadow. His speed and sensory ability allowed him to remain completely undetected.
Minutes later, he came to a halt just a few meters from the compound where Kurotsuchi was being held. He crouched low, eyes scanning the perimeter. His Observation Haki confirmed what he had sensed earlier—more than fifty ninjas positioned around the compound. Not enough to stop him, but not something to charge through carelessly either.
"Over fifty guards scattered across the perimeter," he thought. "I can handle them, but this compound is rigged with traps. One wrong move, and this whole place could go loud."
He stayed low, planning his next move with cold precision.
Inoiki had already sensed the intricacy of the trap network woven through the area. The rogue ninjas hadn't just set basic perimeter alarms—they had rigged the compound with layered explosive seals and chakra-sensitive triggers. Underground infiltration was out of the question. They had accounted for that. Given that Kurotsuchi was a high-value hostage from Iwagakure—a village known for its mastery of Earth Release techniques—it made perfect sense. They had prepared specifically to counter subterranean attacks.
"Figures," Inoiki thought. "They're not underestimating her rescue. Good. That means they'll never see this coming."
He scanned the compound. The guards positioned in open sight were his first target.
With a silent command, the short swords orbiting around him—levitating through psychokinesis—suddenly shot high into the air. In a split second, they shifted from floating calmly to descending like divine punishment. Each blade locked onto a different target—rogue ninjas on patrol—and then plummeted at lethal speed, slicing through the skulls of every exposed guard. The strikes were precise, clean, and merciless. The swords drove down through the tops of their heads and burst out beneath their chins. Not a single sound escaped the victims. They were dead before they realized they were being attacked.
Inoiki advanced, weaving through the traps with calculated steps. His Observation Haki guided him, letting him avoid the pressure seals, wire triggers, and 'explosive tag mines' that littered the floor.
Once inside the compound, he drew his blade in silence. Every ninja who crossed his path met the same fate—swift, surgical death. One after another, he slid behind them, slashing throats and severing spines without breaking stride. No wasted movement. No noise. Just clean eliminations.
Finally, he reached the corridor leading to Kurotsuchi's room. It was close—just a few meters ahead—but guarded by twenty elite ninjas. They were alert, tense, and fully prepared for an attack.
Then, one of them spotted a flicker of movement—too fast to track, but just enough to catch his eye.
"Enemy attack!" the ninja shouted.
And with that, the silence shattered.
The moment the guard shouted, a short sword streaked through the air like a lightning bolt—driven by Inoiki's psychokinesis. It struck clean through the center of the man's skull, nailing him to the wall with a sickening crunch. His body went limp, eyes frozen in shock. The room fell into a brief, stunned silence—then erupted into chaos.
The remaining guards reacted instantly, launching a barrage of kunai and shuriken toward Inoiki. The air filled with glinting steel and sharp intent. At the same time, one of them—clearly the squad leader—stepped forward and began weaving hand seals with practiced speed.
"Earth Release: Giant Rock Fist!"
Stone engulfed his arm, forming a massive, jagged gauntlet of compressed earth. Muscles tense and chakra flaring, he charged at Inoiki with purpose, his heavy footfalls shaking the floor beneath them.
"We knew someone would try to rescue her," the leader growled. "That's why I'm here!"
With a roar, he closed the gap and hurled his stone-covered fist straight at Inoiki's face. But just before impact, the attack froze in mid-air.
An invisible wall of force shimmered faintly between them—the result of Inoiki's psychokinetic barrier. The punch stopped cold, inches from his face, unable to push forward even a fraction more. Dust and fragments trembled from the strain, but the barrier held like solid steel.
Inoiki's gaze didn't waver. Calm. Unimpressed.
"Doesn't matter how many pieces of trash band together," he said, eyes locked on the would-be hero, "trash is still trash."
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