By the time Amamiya Raizen reached the Tiannan front, it was already eight at night.
Too lively. Too many eyes awake.
Even in this era, timing was everything. Eight p.m. meant campfires, guard shifts, and shinobi still wired on adrenaline.
"Attacking now would just make me the birthday boy who hung himself early," he muttered.
So he waited. The best time to strike was between four and five a.m.—when even the most paranoid guards start drifting. When the human body itself turns traitor.
Raizen guided his clay owl down into a dense pocket of forest, found a hollow between the roots, and sat.
"Alright. Step one: beauty sleep. Step two: mass murder."
He was out in seconds.
Hours later, the forest stirred.
The owl's glassy eyes glowed faintly as it twisted its head toward movement.
Raizen opened his eyes at the same moment—clear, cold, awake.
"Let's move."
With a single seal, the owl took off into the predawn sky. The night wind howled against his face as the Tiannan Mine came into view below—quiet, still, suspiciously peaceful.
He pulled a Flying Thunder God kunai from his pouch and flicked it down toward the ground.
The instant it vanished into the darkness, Raizen's form blurred—and disappeared from the owl's back.
"Successful insertion," he whispered, crouched on the wooden balcony of an Ueshi barracks.
Everything looked dead silent.
Too silent.
Raizen crept toward a half-open door, eased it open, and spotted a lone shinobi asleep inside.
Perfect.
No hesitation. The kunai in his grip gleamed with the formula of Flying Thunder God as he slit across the man's throat—
"—Tch!"
Smoke.
A substitution jutsu.
A wooden log replaced the body—three kunai embedded into it, each tagged with burning seals.
"Ah, hell—"
The explosion swallowed the night.
The Tiannan Mine roared like a dying god, flames lighting the mountainside in blood-red glow.
A shout rose from the chaos:
"He triggered the trap! Check the perimeter!"
Dozens of Ueshi shinobi flooded out, led by Ueshi Tokusaka, Raizen's old rival.
Raizen reappeared in his original entry point, coughing through the shockwave.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
If I'd pulled out that kunai a second earlier, I'd be scattered across the valley right now.
He exhaled slowly. "They were ready for me. That means…"
His gaze darkened.
"There's a leak in the clan."
No one else knew his plan—not the route, not the time.
Someone from the Amamiya Clan had sold him out.
"...Fine. I'll deal with that later."
"Over there! He's alive!" a voice shouted.
Dozens of figures turned, their Sharingan-less eyes burning with killing intent.
Raizen stood in the open, cloak fluttering, face half-lit by fire.
He cracked his neck. "Tch. Guess we're skipping diplomacy."
Over a hundred enemy shinobi surrounded him—at least thirty Chūnin among them.
Ueshi Tokusaka raised his hand. "Stay alert! He can move instantly using those strange kunai!"
Good advice. Too late.
Raizen's smirk was razor-sharp.
"Try keeping up."
He flung three marked kunai in an arc, vanishing before they even landed.
The air distorted—then screamed.
Thud. Crack. Splatter.
When the light of his Rasengan faded, three Ueshi shinobi lay dead—chests caved in, eyes still wide with disbelief.
"Round one," Raizen muttered, standing over the bodies. "Try harder."