Inside a hidden base deep in the mountains surrounding the Land of Rivers, a group of mysterious figures clad in black robes bustled about. Around their necks hung silver pendants—circular on the outside, with an inverted triangle carved within.
"Akagi Shinji, Hidan, once you're done with the blood draw, start today's taijutsu combat training."
"Yes, Lord Taki."
Bang! Bang!
In a slightly brighter, spacious chamber, two figures were engaged in a fierce taijutsu fight under flickering torchlight. The sound of fists pounding flesh had echoed nonstop from the very beginning.
One figure got knocked to the ground, only to spring back up in the next instant.
And the same went for the other!
As the fight dragged on, stamina rapidly drained, and both sides' movements became increasingly erratic. By the end, it had devolved into a contest of sheer willpower.
One punch, one kick—see who drops first and doesn't get back up.
It could be said this battle wasn't flashy or awe-inspiring in the slightest.
The two combatants looked to be around fourteen or fifteen years old. Their taijutsu was far from refined, their technique still sorely lacking.
But if you judged by their raw strength and endurance alone, it was clear their physical abilities had already far surpassed the average for their age group.
So in the eyes of the black-robed observers, even though this fight wasn't anything remarkable, they didn't stop taking notes.
After all, this wasn't some casual taijutsu class—it was a daily component of their observation and research curriculum.
"Alright, that's enough for today. Rest for one hour, then proceed with your cursed technique studies."
The speaker was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties. Unlike the others in black, he wore a dark red robe. A constant, kind smile rested on his face, making him look like some friendly uncle from the countryside.
But in reality, this seemingly gentle man was the very founder of the Cult of the Evil God/Jashini —an organization whose doctrine was "endless slaughter." While secretly expanding its reach, it pillaged and massacred everyone in its path.
Unnoticed by most, the Evil God Cult had already become a forbidden name in regions like the Land of Rivers.
The two teenagers—who had been just about to trade another punch—finally stopped. One's fist hovered just centimeters from the other's cheek.
"Tch, guess you're lucky this time. That punch would've blown your damn skull open!"
The speaker was a teenager with gray hair and reddish-purple eyes. He wore his hair slicked back and tied the Takigakure rogue shinobi forehead protector around his neck. He glared irritably, muttering with a scowl in his eyes.
If you ignored the fact that he was panting heavily, his face was bruised purple and green, and his body was covered in dirt and grime, his words might've actually carried some intimidation.
Across from him, the other boy pulled his fist back. About the same height, he had short, sharp, brown hair and a pale, stern face.
But in total contrast to his delicate appearance, this guy had just fought like a complete maniac.
So reckless it was borderline terrifying.
If you dug a little deeper, you'd realize this seemingly graceful pretty boy was anything but mild-mannered.
Quite the opposite—he was a bastard with a rotten personality.
Sure enough, hearing the other guy mouth off again, he coolly replied, "With those honey-soaked marshmallow fists of yours? If you were trying to kill me with sweetness, then congrats, Hidan—you nailed it."
"Akagi! Shinji! You bastard, I'll fucking kill you!"
Not only was Hidan's mouth no match, but now his eyes flared with murderous intent.
"You dare insult my iron fists like that?! Evil God as my witness, you're fucking dead today!"
"Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Compared to those pansies who just claw at faces and pull hair, at least you don't cry for mommy when you get hit."
Akagi Shinji didn't back down an inch. He even leaned his forehead against Hidan's chest, ramming forward with each line, pushing Hidan back step by step, his eyes reddening.
Until Shinji finally raised his head—revealing a face that practically said, "Given the chance, and you still blew it."
That did it.
"DIE!!"
With a roar, Hidan suddenly pulled out a pitch-black short spear from his robes and, under the resigned gazes of those nearby, stabbed it straight through Akagi Shinji's heart!
Puh!!!
Pain.
Fuck, that fucking hurts!
It wasn't his first time dying, but getting your heart skewered never stopped being agonizing. The pain was excruciating—vivid and sharp.
But right as Hidan's black spear pierced Shinji's heart, Shinji's kunai also shot forward, stabbing clean into Hidan's throat. The whole blade disappeared into his neck!
Clearly, Shinji had predicted Hidan's attack from the start. Not only did he make no effort to dodge, but he went in for the kill at the exact same time.
This was a man as ruthless to himself as he was to others.
Thud.
Both Akagi Shinji and Hidan collapsed backward.
One with his heart pierced.
The other had his throat sealed.
For any normal person, such fatal wounds meant certain death—even immediate rescue would be pointless.
But strangely, no one around them even thought of offering help.
They remained indifferent, cold-faced. Even after witnessing mutual death, their expressions didn't change.
Then, suddenly, Hidan—who was lying lifeless—raised a hand and grabbed the kunai embedded in his throat.
He yanked it out with force!
Puh... clatter!
"Cough, cough, cough... huff, huff, urgh! (Fuck, fuck, that hurts like hell, asshole!)"
Cursing in his head, Hidan staggered to his feet again, the kunai he tossed away still dripping with blood.
But despite all that, he wasn't dead. In fact, he was completely fine. The wound on his neck was already healing fast!
On the other side, exactly three seconds after dying, Shinji regained consciousness.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Akagi Shinji—previously lying dead—suddenly opened his eyes. Then, without hesitation, he climbed to his feet and casually pulled out the black spear from his chest, tossing it aside.
Since fate had thrown him into this terrifying world of shinobi, he had no choice but to adapt like hell—killing or being killed.
Ptui!
Spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva, freshly resurrected Akagi Shinji spoke again:
"That's it? Seriously? My grandma hit harder than you when she was still alive."
Hidan clenched his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. But he couldn't argue.
After all, as the only two survivors of that "ritual," both had gained a form of [Immortality]—a divine gift from Lord Evil God!
In truth, this wasn't the first time Hidan had killed Akagi Shinji out of sheer rage.
But it was like Shinji was his nemesis—never once had Hidan gotten the upper hand. It was always either mutual death or him getting counter-killed.
Even the one time he managed to ambush Shinji, the aftermath was brutal.
That time, after decapitating him and burying his head deep underground, Shinji launched a savage revenge.
The whole Evil God Cult spent three whole days and nights playing "treasure hunt" across the compound. In the end, it took Lord Taki's furious intervention before Shinji finally pointed out the spot—under a certain tree.
From that day on, their grudge was set in stone.
It also made many in the Evil God Cult reevaluate Akagi Shinji and realize just how twisted and terrifying he really was.
Which was precisely why Hidan had spent most of today's fight just running his mouth—and only lashed out once he was truly pushed.
Anyone else talking shit to his face like that would've been chopped to pieces on the spot.
"The boring little game is over, children. You still seem full of energy, so rest time is canceled. Head to Chamber Two now—the materials are ready."
Lord Taki, who had enjoyed the whole spectacle without stopping it, finally spoke.
In truth, it was thanks to the duo's obsessive bloodlust that they'd managed to collect so much valuable experimental data in just one month.
Hidan knew there was no point in dragging the fight out, so he scoffed coldly and turned to leave.