Somewhere beneath Konohagakure…
In the cold, damp silence of Konoha's underground archives, a figure wearing an ANBU ghost mask emerged from the shadows. Without a word, he vanished into the darkness beyond.
Over two hundred miles away…
Near a remote mountain town far from Konoha, nestled between steep ridges and winding roads, a tense argument was unfolding in the town square.
"The roads are blocked, and the bandits strike every caravan. We haven't seen a merchant in days!" a merchant cried.
"They've cut us off from the next town entirely!" another man shouted. "The mountain goods are rotting in storage!"
The town mayor, an older man with greying hair and a frazzled look, tried to calm them. "Please, I've already sent word to Konoha. Their shinobi will arrive soon."
"Soon? Mayor, we don't have soon!" a goateed man shouted, stepping forward with arms crossed. "I say we take the goods and move now. Those bandits can't be everywhere at once."
"That's right!" several others echoed. "We'll defend ourselves!"
"Idiots!" the mayor barked. "These aren't simple thieves—they're armed and kill without hesitation! You'll throw your lives away for what? Spoiled mushrooms?"
But the townspeople were no longer listening. Led by the goateed man, they loaded five carts with dried herbs, timber, and preserved goods. A dozen young men, armed with tools and spears, marched out confidently.
"Don't worry!" the goateed man laughed. "When the bandits see us coming, they'll piss themselves!"
Hours later…
The sun hung high in a clear blue sky. The road twisted along rocky cliffs and steep slopes. The caravan moved slowly, wheels creaking. The goateed man trailed behind, occasionally lifting a mirror to flash light toward the treeline.
Then—rustling.
Shouts.
Steel gleamed in the sun.
"Everyone down or die!" roared a voice from the woods.
"Kill!"
"Kill them all!"
More than twenty burly men with cruel eyes and rusted blades charged from the trees.
The townspeople froze. A moment of silence. Then chaos.
The young men screamed and scattered. Goods toppled. Carts overturned.
"Don't run!" the goateed man bellowed—then winked at the bandit leader and fled with the rest.
The bandits laughed as they looted the goods.
"Same deal as before," the leader said. "You and the boys take this haul to the city. We get eighty percent."
One of the bandits, Lao Qi, scoffed. "That goatee bastard gets twenty percent for nothing!"
"You fool," the leader growled. "You think we can just waltz around with Leaf shinobi on our backs? He's our inside man—keeps the mayor off us and gives us info. That's worth every ryo."
Back at the town…
The survivors stumbled back, pale and shaken.
"No one was killed, thank the Sage…" the mayor muttered, rushing out to console them.
"We shouldn't have gone!" a young man cried. "It's all our fault."
The goateed man, ever shameless, rubbed his chin and sighed dramatically. "If only Konoha's ninja had arrived sooner! None of this would've happened!"
"Yeah!" someone shouted. "Where is that ninja?"
"Lazy shinobi!" another added.
The mayor looked away, speechless.
At that moment, on the mountain path…
A lone figure approached at high speed, hopping tree to tree: a young boy, no older than thirteen. He wore a flak vest over dark navy clothes, a short sword at his back, and a Konoha forehead protector tied proudly around his brow.
Uchiha Fenghuo had arrived.
The townspeople watched as he dropped down beside them.
"Hey, why is there a kid here?" one muttered.
"No way… That's Konoha's ninja?!"
The mayor stepped forward hesitantly. "That forehead protector… You're with the Leaf?"
Fenghuo glanced around at the crowd's skeptical faces. Dust clung to his sleeves. His hair was windblown. He looked exhausted—but focused.
Then he turned toward a nearby boulder and held up a single hand.
"Rasengan."
A swirling ball of chakra erupted in his palm. With a crack, he smashed it into the rock—blasting a crater the size of a dinner plate into the stone. Splinters flew. Dust exploded outward.
The crowd fell silent.
Goatee's face twitched.
"…Alright," someone mumbled. "He's real."
"Y-yeah. Real scary."
Fenghuo brushed the dust from his vest and looked at the mayor. "Tell me everything about the bandits."
Elsewhere…
On the outskirts of the town, two bandits guided their stolen carts along a side road.
"Hey, hold up, I gotta take a leak," said Lao Ba, darting into the woods.
"Again?!" Lao Qi grumbled. "Always when we're hauling stuff…"
Minutes passed. No sign of him.
Cursing under his breath, Lao Qi stormed into the trees—only to see Lao Ba returning with a sheepish grin.
"Sorry, stomach problems. Let's go, huh?"
Lao Qi squinted. "Since when are you polite?"
But the moment passed, and they returned to the others.
The bandits moved fast, selling the stolen goods in under an hour. Clearly, they'd done this before.
Back at the mayor's house…
Fenghuo leaned over a scroll map. "They're targeting mountain goods consistently. That's not random theft—it's organized resupply."
The mayor nodded grimly. "They struck just hours before you arrived. We barely had time to react."
Fenghuo narrowed his eyes.
"Bandits don't care about perishables. But they keep robbing shipments of mountain goods—mushrooms, herbs, bamboo, pelts. Why? Because they've got sellers in the city."
He looked out the window toward the square, where villagers stood murmuring.
"And I bet they've got an informant here, too."
Fenghuo's gaze swept the crowd—then stopped on the goateed man, now whispering to another villager.
He smirked.
It's always the guy with the suspicious facial hair.
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