When Kazehaya Hayate and his team stepped into the grand hall, they found only two people waiting inside.
One sat leisurely on a Taishi chair, sipping tea. Judging from his robes, he looked like a wealthy merchant. Standing just behind him was a man wearing a sand-colored forehead protector and a half-mask that obscured most of his face. His presence was sharp and composed, exuding the unmistakable aura of a skilled shinobi.
A Sand Village ninja… a jōnin? Hayate wondered silently, narrowing his eyes.
The masked man's expression hardened the moment his gaze fell on Kurenai and her squad. His name was Vulture, a special jōnin from Sunagakure. He had been hired to protect the merchant during this so-called "tea ceremony." On paper, it was supposed to be an easy, well-paid assignment. The first few days had been peaceful—almost boring—which had lulled him into thinking it would stay that way.
But the instant he arrived at the venue and saw that every merchant had a bodyguard shinobi behind them, a bad feeling had begun gnawing at the back of his mind.
And now, seeing Kurenai's group—clearly structured as one superior and three subordinates—that ominous hunch grew stronger.
His expression darkened.
"Mr. Lin He," Vulture said coldly, his voice echoing across the hall. "The mission level this time… doesn't seem to match the one you posted."
The merchant, Lin He, stiffened. Though his expression remained calm, a flash of unease crossed his eyes.
"Oh? Mr. Vulture, why do you say that?"
The sudden tension made everyone else—except for Hinata and Kiba—exchange uneasy glances.
"Heh," Vulture chuckled darkly. "Every merchant here is guarded by a ninja, yet no one's clashing or arguing. That can only mean one thing—some outside force plans to interfere with this meeting. Perhaps even a powerful shinobi. Am I wrong?"
Silence fell.
Lin He and another merchant, Trump, both looked grim. The third, Ling Shanyi, frowned and muttered,
"Wait… what kind of mission did you post, exactly? Don't tell me—"
Then, as if realizing something, Ling Shanyi burst out laughing.
"Ha! You youngsters are really something. Don't mind an old man like me saying this, but it sounds like you've brought this on yourselves. Money or death, eh?"
"Old man, that's not fair," Lin He retorted sharply. "You know how dangerous the Blood Sect is. If we underpay and fail to prepare, we'll lose more than just money."
"Say what you will," Ling Shanyi sighed, shaking his head. "I'm too old to care anymore. The future's yours, not mine."
He turned and walked away, smiling faintly to himself.
Kurenai frowned, folding her arms.
"Mr. Trump, I think it's about time you gave us a proper explanation. If this mission goes beyond our agreement, we have no obligation to continue."
Trump's burly frame shuddered. He slumped back into his chair with a bitter laugh.
"So, even money can't buy peace of mind after all…"
After a pause, he began to explain. Lin He tried to stop him, but one look at Vulture and Kurenai's grim faces convinced him it was pointless.
"It happened five days ago," Trump said quietly. "While we were planning this tea ceremony, a note suddenly drifted in through the window. At first, we thought it was just trash—someone threw it aside."
He swallowed hard, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Then… the man who threw it away suddenly turned into a cloud of blood mist."
Gasps filled the room.
"The blood mist condensed," Trump continued shakily, "and took the form of a man in black. He told us that the day of the tea ceremony… would also be the day of our deaths."
"The Blood Sect?" Hayate asked abruptly.
Trump nodded grimly.
"Yes. He called himself a member of the Blood Sect. He told us to hire shinobi for protection. But he also said—if anyone dares to skip the meeting or flee early, the one who runs will die first… and their entire family will be wiped out."
As the words left his mouth, a chill swept through the room.
Outside, on a tree branch overlooking the hall, a figure appeared out of thin air—a man in black, his eyes narrow and gleaming red like fresh blood.
He let out a low, eerie laugh.
"Oh? Were you talking about me?" he hissed. "No need to worry… I'll make sure your blood doesn't go to waste. You'll all be quite… useful to me."
A sharp, metallic chuckle followed.
"Hehehe… hehahaha…!"
Inside, the tension snapped taut.
"This situation just keeps getting worse," Kurenai muttered.
"If you want more payment, just say it," Trump pleaded, pressing his palms together. "I'll do whatever it takes—please, for the sake of the bond we've built these past few days, help us!"
Kurenai's eyes softened slightly, but her expression remained troubled.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have any information about this Blood Sect. I can't guarantee we have the strength to face them."
Vulture finally spoke again, his tone low and heavy.
"I know a bit about them."
Everyone turned toward him.
"The Blood Sect," he said, "is a group of no more than five. Including their leader, there might be only a handful left now. But don't let that fool you—their power is monstrous."
Kurenai frowned.
"How strong are we talking?"
"Not long ago," Vulture said grimly, "one of them fought against Hanzo of the Salamander—the demigod of the shinobi world. Only one Blood Sect member died in that battle. The rest escaped… alive."
"What?!" Kurenai's composure shattered. "You mean… they fought Hanzo and survived?"
She knew exactly what that meant. Hanzo was a living legend—a man powerful enough to build a village's reputation alone.
"That's right," Vulture confirmed. "I was nearby when it happened. I saw it with my own eyes."
Kurenai took a deep breath, then turned to Trump.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Trump. But your request… is beyond what we can accept."
Just then, a carefree voice rang from the entrance.
"Oh, come on now! What kind of mission's 'unacceptable,' huh?"
Everyone turned.
A silver-haired man with a roguish grin strolled in, carrying the limp body of a man in black over his shoulder. He looked every bit the eccentric wanderer—part shameless uncle, part living legend.
"With this great sage around," he declared boldly, "what's there to be afraid of?"
Kurenai blinked in surprise.
"Wait… you're—"
The man struck a dramatic pose, flashing a V-sign.
"That's right! The one and only, adored by men, loved by women, and worshipped by all— the Toad Sage himself… Jiraiya-sama!"