Chapter 141: The Numb Red-Haired Woman
"Forget it. I'll bring Tsukishi along."
After giving it more thought, the Third Hokage decided to include Sarutobi Tsukishi in the mission. He had been too optimistic before.
If the Five Kage could truly cooperate, there would be no need for Tsukishi — they could definitely kill Li Yao.
But… expecting five Kage, all currently at war, to work together in harmony?
That was wishful thinking. Impossible.
So, to ensure Li Yao's death, the Third Hokage had no choice but to bring Tsukishi.
…
Snake Island.
Late at night.
On the porch of a wooden cabin, Li Yao sat on a chair, eating roast duck he had taken from his black water storage.
After crossing the Arctic, he had made his way here to Snake Island to reorient himself and confirm his location.
After eating, Li Yao created a shadow clone, then went back inside the cabin to sleep. He planned to rest here overnight and continue his journey in the morning.
Lying on the wooden bed, Li Yao's consciousness kept watch through the ink hawks he had scattered along his flight path. Still, none of them had spotted any Konoha shinobi.
"Could it be that no one from Konoha followed me?"
At this point, Li Yao began to doubt himself. Maybe he'd been overly sensitive, and Konoha never sent anyone at all.
But if not Konoha… then who?
Iwa and Kumo had only sent one shinobi each — clearly just to confirm whether he was really on that frozen island.
Li Yao had now realized — someone must have leaked his location to Iwa and Kumo, prompting them to send scouts to verify the intel, not full squads for assassination.
At first, he thought it was Konoha that found him.
But now… he wasn't sure anymore.
"Who was it?"
"And how did my location get exposed?"
After long contemplation, Li Yao still had no leads. He had gone so far as to hide near the Arctic Circle, completely isolated from the world — and still, someone had found him without his knowledge.
What sort of ability could do that?
Sigh… I need to solve my chakra capacity problem soon.
If his enemy could locate him through unknown means while evading his own detection, then the only solution was to become stronger — strong enough to ignore any threat.
The next morning.
After breakfast and freshening up, Li Yao flew off on his black iron eagle, heading toward the Land of Fire.
He was going to find survivors of the Uzumaki clan.
At this point in history, the Uzumaki clan had likely only recently been destroyed.
Many survivors were hiding in smaller nations under new identities.
Among them, surely some still possessed knowledge of sealing techniques. If he could find them and learn the basics of fūinjutsu…
Li Yao was confident that with a solid foundation, he could successfully carve a Devouring Seal Array onto his body and temporarily resolve his chakra limitation.
After three years of stockpiling chakra equal to a Tailed Beast, he would go after the Third Hokage, interrogate him about the Spirit Transformation Technique, and from it unlock the secrets of the soul — and develop the perfect transformation technique.
That would mark the beginning of his plan to destroy Konoha.
At last, the blueprint for Konoha's destruction was clear and complete.
Step one: find the Uzumaki survivors and learn sealing techniques.
…
Land of Grass.
Border zone.
Grass and Waterfall shinobi were locked in brutal combat.
Both sides had suffered heavy casualties, with countless wounded — and even more dead.
Still, the war raged on.
Unlike the great nations, small countries had few elite warriors — forget Kage-level, even jōnin were rare.
Their wars were grueling — all about attrition, numbers, and endurance.
Hence, the massive casualties.
Back at the rear base of Grass Village, waves of injured shinobi were brought back from the front lines for treatment.
Inside a massive tent, there were no beds or stretchers — wounded ninja simply lay or sat on the cold ground as medical personnel worked.
"No, please, let me take a bite. I can still fight! I swear I—"
A 15-year-old Grass shinobi lay on the ground, pale and desperate, begging the medical captain in front of him to let him bite a red-haired woman nearby.
The captain, a middle-aged man with a perpetually cold expression, answered with equal cruelty.
"Right leg severed. No emergency value."
He gave the boy's ruined knee a quick glance, then shook his head and pulled the red-haired woman along to the next patient.
"I… I…"
The next patient was elderly — fully white-haired, probably nearing 80. His chest bore a massive gash that nearly split him in half. Despite being wrapped in white gauze, blood continued to soak his body.
At that age, with that injury and so much blood loss, even if they saved him, he likely wouldn't live more than a few days.
By all logic, he should've been treated the same as the boy — not worth saving.
But the middle-aged captain yanked the red-haired woman in front of him and said coldly, "Do it. Now."
Expression blank, the red-haired woman crouched down, rolled up her sleeve, and extended a pale arm — covered in half-healed bite marks.
She brought her scarred arm to the old man's mouth, closed her eyes, and waited for the familiar sting.
But it didn't come.
She opened her eyes — the man, who only needed a single bite to recover, was instead shaking his head, looking at her with deep sorrow.
That moment stirred something faint in her numb expression.
But it vanished when the captain's cold voice pierced the silence.
"What, do you intend to betray the village?"
The old man froze, the compassion in his eyes fading. With a sigh, he bit down on her arm.
In an instant, her chakra-rich blood entered his body.
The pain vanished, his strength returned.
His wound was gone — but his hair had turned even grayer.
"...Sorry."
He released her, whispering an apology. Only she heard it. But she gave no reaction, simply stood up in silence and followed the captain to "heal" the next soldier.
The captain's treatment criteria were simple:
Anyone who could still fight, no matter how injured — would be saved.
Those who'd lost limbs or were otherwise useless cannon fodder — left to die.
And even those like the old man, who might only have days left to live — if they could fight a few more battles, they would be healed.
They had to die on the battlefield.
That was the reality of war in a small country — ten times more brutal than in the Five Great Nations.
That night.
After treating everyone, the red-haired woman looked pale as a corpse.
The captain led her to a small wooden shack and opened the door.
"Mom…"
A red-haired girl, about twelve, hid in a dark corner untouched by moonlight. When she saw her mother, she wanted to run to her — but seeing the captain behind her, she froze in fear, remaining in the shadows, softly whispering, "Mom..."
"Go."
Expressionless, the captain shoved the woman inside. He didn't care that she collapsed to the floor. Tossing two rice balls after her, he shut the door and left.
The woman had no strength left — only her will had kept her standing. Hearing her daughter's voice had broken it.
Shoved by the captain, she fell limp to the ground.
"Mom..."
Once the door closed, the girl crawled over on hands and knees.
Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating her small, bony frame.
"Mom…"
She gently lifted her mother's limp arm and draped it over her own shoulders, then pushed her head beneath her mother's and used her knees to slowly shift her mother's weight until she was lying flat.
In doing so, she scraped her forehead against the hard ground — reopening an old red wound. Blood trickled out.
Ignoring her own pain, the girl picked up the rice balls, blew the dust from them, and placed them aside. Then she sat quietly, waiting for her mother to wake up.
Clearly…
This wasn't the first time this had happened.
Grrr… grrr…
Her stomach growled with hunger, but she didn't seem to notice.
She just kept her hopeful eyes fixed on her mother, repeating silently in her heart:
"Wake up, Mom. Please be okay. Wake up…"
(END CHAPTER)
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