Anya once again felt grateful for choosing the Legend of the White Fang as his master upon witnessing this scene. Once he got the hang of White Fang's swordsmanship, even regular Jonin wouldn't stand a chance against him—like slicing through chickens and dogs.
Once he was done demonstrating, White Fang turned to Anya and asked, "Do you know which squad among the ninja villages has the strongest destructive power?"
Anya thought for a moment before shaking his head and replying, "I don't know."
White Fang slowly spoke out, "The Seven Swords of the Bloody Mist from the Mist Village."
"Oh right, them," Anya suddenly recalled—he had heard of them before. Back when Kakashi led Team 7 on their early missions, they encountered one of the Seven Swords. At the time, Kakashi defeated him using the Sharingan, though it hadn't been an easy fight. Later, another former member of the Seven Swords appeared as part of the Akatsuki and proved just as formidable. That's why Anya wasn't surprised that White Fang held them in such high regard. However, the current members weren't quite those individuals yet.
"They wield massive blades with sweeping strikes that pack incredible power," White Fang continued. "On the battlefield, they're like war machines. When paired with a ninja whose nature aligns with their blade, the combined strength can be astonishing. If all seven act together, even Kage-level experts would hesitate and retreat."
That strong?
Anya silently whistled in amazement after hearing this. Frankly speaking, the biggest gap in power shown in the ninja world was between Jonin and Kage. This difference was even greater than the gap between Genin and Jonin. Many Jonin spent their whole lives without ever crossing that bridge. Yet with their massive blades, seven Jonin working together could reach that level. Thus, the might of this particular unit was undeniable.
White Fang swung the Tanto in his hand, briefly emitting a sharp killing intent. "I once saw them in action during a mission. Back then, I wondered how I should respond if we ever came into conflict. For a long period afterward, they remained my imaginary enemy, which is why I created this sword style—designed to counter longer weapons at close range. Now, I'm confident I can kill them in an instant when closing in."
"Therefore," he continued seriously, "this sword style demands above-average speed, precise killing techniques, and the belief to face death without hesitation. Missing even one of these elements means you'll never achieve mastery. Understand?"
Anya nodded solemnly. He finally understood that White Fang truly wanted to pass down everything he knew—which was why he explained things so thoroughly. Unfortunately, in the anime, this sword technique was never passed down because White Fang died too soon. Anya swore inwardly that he'd strive to learn it completely and even surpass it by developing his own unique sword art.
White Fang picked up a common sword from the rack and handed it to Anya, saying, "Start training. Begin with the thirteen fundamental forms of sword fighting. You must ingrain these motions into your muscle memory. They are: cleave, chop, slash upward, hack, stab upward, intercept, push, pierce, slide, twist, break, tap, and draw."
Demonstrating each basic move on a wooden post, White Fang showed Anya every fundamental form. Even the simplest moves looked graceful in his hands, clearly revealing the immense effort he'd dedicated to mastering them.
Once finished, he signaled for Anya to begin practicing. Without mentioning any specific schedule or timing, he simply turned around and walked away.
Anya tightened his grip on the blade and immediately threw himself into rigorous training.
White Fang stepped back inside and cast a sharp glance toward a shadowed corner. He quickly moved forward respectfully and said, "Third, why have you come here?"
The visitor was indeed the Third Hokage. After Orochimaru failed to recruit a student, he had immediately sent word through small snakes to the Third. Upon receiving the news, the Third decided to come in person to see for himself.
He gave White Fang a warm nod before turning his gaze to Anya, who was training in the yard, and asked, "Sakumo, I know you have an eye for talent—what do you think of that child's potential?"
Without hesitation, White Fang replied, "Limitless."
The Third seemed surprised at this response and hadn't expected such high praise from Sakumo. He continued, "How does he compare to you?"
"His potential surpasses mine."
Upon hearing this, the Third's eyes deepened in thought. He pulled out a document and handed it to White Fang.
White Fang took it and exclaimed in shock, "He's actually from the Uchiha Clan? Then why did he…"
The Third responded, "Exactly. Why would he distance himself from his family? That puzzles me too. So over the past year, I've kept an eye on him occasionally. I found that he completely lacks the innocence of a normal child. Deep down, he's like an old man skilled in hiding his true nature. If I'm not mistaken, his abilities are already on par with a Chunin despite his young age. With such intelligence combined with his outstanding talent, I feel some concern."
White Fang understood that the Third had something important to say, so he simply asked, "What should I do?"
Maintaining his usual calm demeanor and speaking in a steady tone, the Third said, "There's nothing specific you need to do. I just hope you can guide him properly and keep him on the right path. If in the future you notice any sign of deviation, I hope you will have the courage to make the painful but necessary choice."
White Fang stiffened—he understood what the Third truly meant: if Anya ever turned rogue, he would have to be stopped. Clasping his fists together, he bowed slightly and said firmly, "Understood."
The Third gently patted White Fang's shoulder and said, "Don't be too tense; this is only the worst-case scenario. I believe in your ability—you are fully capable of raising an excellent student. I'm getting older now—the future of the village rests in your younger hands."
After saying this, the Third took out a sleeveless Hokage vest and handed it over.
White Fang's eyes narrowed sharply, hesitating for a moment before accepting the robe bearing great significance.
With a warm tone, the Third said, "Take it. Among everyone in the village right now, no one deserves to wear this more than you. I believe in your abilities, and I'm sure you'll surpass even me someday."
"Understood."
White Fang bowed low and respectfully accepted the robe—a garment that carried deep meaning.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk settled in, within White Fang's courtyard, a young boy tirelessly swung his blade continuously. At this point, he'd long lost count of how many swings—was it a thousand, five thousand, ten thousand? Regardless, with every swing, his body grew increasingly fatigued, yet his eyes shone brighter. Persistent pain kept reminding him he'd reached his limit—yet every time he pushed through, he could clearly feel himself improving.
Muscle memory. Yao An seemed to understand what White Fang meant. In a duel, the outcome could be decided in less than a second. At that point, tactics, thinking, and ninjutsu (ninja techniques) would all be useless. Only one's instinctive first reaction could decide victory or defeat. Sometimes when danger strikes, your body dodges before you even realize what's happening. This is muscle memory.
To achieve this, hard practice was indispensable. Therefore, unless White Fang appeared and called for a stop, he wouldn't halt. He had to persevere until he collapsed from exhaustion...
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