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Chapter 162: The Monster Returns
Mt. Kikyo Defense Line, Konoha Frontline Base.
The gloomy sky pressed down low, and the air was permeated with the wet smell of rust—the scent of unwashed blood. A team of heavily wounded Konoha ninja was being carried into a tent by the medical squad. Their wails rose and fell, making the already oppressive atmosphere even heavier.
Several Chunin guarding the camp gate stared nervously at the distant forest. There, a figure was slowly emerging from the shadows.
The black Uchiha uniform with red clouds printed on the fan was dyed dark purple with blood. Wild long hair draped behind him, swaying with his steps. The young man dragged a curled-edge long sword in his hand, the tip carving a harsh friction sound against the gravel ground.
Scrape— Scrape—
The guard's Adam's apple bobbed as he subconsciously took a half-step back.
"It's... it's Tsubasa Uchiha."
"That lunatic is back."
Golden Lion Shiki stopped at the camp entrance, lifting his eyelids to sweep a glance over the guards. The crimson three-tomoe slowly rotated in his eyes, his cold gaze as if he were looking at corpses.
"Move."
No extra nonsense. Just one word, yet it carried a suffocating oppression. The Chunin instinctively scattered to the sides, clearing a path, not daring to even breathe loudly. Only when that back disappeared into the depths of the camp did a guard realize his back was soaked in cold sweat.
"Is that the 'Blood Asura'...? Just his look makes you unable to move."
"Stop talking. It's best to stay far away from that kind of monster."
.....
Konoha Frontline Base, Command Post.
The flame of the dim oil lamp danced, stretching several shadows long and projecting them onto the canvas wall covered in maps. The air was a mix of herbal medicine and old paper.
Orochimaru stood before the massive sand table, his golden vertical pupils contracting slightly as his focus fixed on a red marker on the eastern side. His pale skin had a gloomy quality under the light, his long fingers gently tapping the edge of the wooden table.
Tap, tap, tap.
The rhythm was slow, yet inexplicably unnerving. An Anbu wearing a cat mask knelt on one knee, his voice muffled through the mask: "Lord Orochimaru, urgent report from the East Line. The Cloud's assault unit has breached Defense Line 13. The leader is the Yotsuki clan's 'Raito'. According to survivors, that guy has mastered a terrifying Nintaijutsu; anyone he gets close to is defeated almost instantly."
The Anbu paused, seemingly organizing his words, his tone revealing a sense of absurdity hard to comprehend. "Furthermore, this guy shattered our Earth Style Wall defensive formation with his bare hands."
"This is the report sent back from the front line."
A bloodstained scroll was presented. Orochimaru took the scroll, his pale fingertips sliding slowly across the rough paper surface. He didn't rush to open it. He tilted his head slightly, his golden vertical pupils staring at the flickering oil lamp before him. The wick crackled, making a faint popping sound.
"Besides this, is there anything else?"
Orochimaru's voice was hoarse, carrying a unique magnetism that seemed particularly cold in this dead silent command post. The Anbu kneeling on the ground tensed up, burying his head lower.
"Reporting to my Lord, in addition to the fall of Defense Line 13, our flank reconnaissance squad was also wiped out."
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes, his tongue subconsciously licking his lips. Such a reckless fighting style reminded him of someone. Tsunade!
He slowly unfurled the scroll, scanning the intelligence recorded within.
Yotsuki Raito. A rising star of the Yotsuki clan in Kumogakure, only nine years old.
"Nine years old..." Orochimaru murmured softly, his tone indistinguishable between praise and regret. To think the Third Raikage would deploy such a guy to the Konoha battlefield while fighting Iwagakure at the same time—he was truly arrogant.
"You're lying, right?"
A tender yet surprised voice rang out from the corner of the tent. Nawaki poked his head out from behind the tactical map. His short brown hair was a bit messy, and his large eyes were filled with disbelief.
"Teacher Orochimaru, that guy is only nine? About the same age as me?"
Nawaki walked quickly to the table, standing on his tiptoes trying to see the content of the scroll, his face written with unconvinced defiance. "How can he break through the defense line single-handedly at nine years old? And smash an Earth Style Wall with bare hands? How is that even possible!"
Nawaki clenched his fists. As a descendant of the Senju clan and the grandson of the First Hokage, expectations had been placed on him since childhood. Yet even so, at this age, he had only just mastered a few C-rank jutsu. How did that guy named Yotsuki Raito do it?
Orochimaru looked at the anxiety and frustration written on Nawaki's tender face, the coldness in his eyes dissipating slightly. He reached out, his palm gently resting on the top of Nawaki's head, ruffling that brown hair.
"Nawaki, there are always some anomalies in this world that cannot be measured by common sense." Orochimaru's voice was rarely gentle, like he was soothing a frightened small animal. "But that doesn't mean you are inferior to him. You possess the blood of the Senju clan, a lineage that inherits the vitality of the Senju of the Forest. Given time, your future achievements will definitely not be below his."
"Really?" Nawaki looked up, the confusion in his eyes fading somewhat, replaced by his usual passion and determination.
"Of course." Orochimaru smiled, withdrawing his hand. "You will become an excellent ninja like your sister Tsunade, perhaps even... surpass her."
Nawaki nodded vigorously. Just as he was about to say some brave words, the tent flap was roughly thrown open.
Whoosh—
A strong scent of blood mixed with the dampness of rain instantly filled the entire space. The originally warm candlelight flickered madly in the wind, stretching the shadows inside the tent into monstrous shapes.
The kneeling Anbu whipped his head around, his hand already on his sword hilt. But when he saw clearly who had arrived, his pupils contracted violently. His hand on the hilt froze, and even began to tremble slightly.
Someone was standing at the entrance. Or rather, an Asura who had just crawled out of a pool of blood.
Tsubasa Uchiha. Which is to say, Golden Lion Shiki.
He was soaked through. Black long hair stuck to the sides of his cheeks, rain dripping from the tips to form red puddles on the floor. That was blood the rain couldn't wash away. He carried that curled-edge long sword, the tip dragging on the ground, making a tooth-aching scraping sound.
"Oi, Orochimaru."
Golden Lion had absolutely no intention of bowing. He walked in carelessly. His crimson three-tomoe Sharingan rotated in the dim light, emitting a heart-palpitating chill.
Nawaki subconsciously shrank behind Orochimaru. Even though they were comrades from the same village, every time he saw this guy named Tsubasa Uchiha, Nawaki felt a physiological discomfort. Too violent. That look didn't resemble looking at a comrade at all, but rather at a herd of prey waiting to be slaughtered.
"Tsubasa-kun." Orochimaru didn't get angry at the other's rudeness; instead, he examined the wounds on Golden Lion with interest. "It seems the battle just now was intense."
"Just a bunch of trash."
Golden Lion tossed the long sword onto the table, making a loud clang that caused the maps to jump. He pulled over a chair and sat down with legs wide apart, completely ignoring the warning looks from the surrounding Anbu.
"I heard there's an interesting guy over at the Cloud side?" Golden Lion grinned, revealing forest-white teeth, his smile savage and fanatical.
"Yotsuki Raito..." Orochimaru nodded, pushing the scroll in his hand over. "Indeed a troublesome enemy. His Taijutsu is very tyrannical; our Ninjutsu struggles to inflict effective damage on him. What, is Tsubasa-kun interested in this kind of pure Taijutsu opponent?"
"Jihahahaha!"
Golden Lion suddenly erupted with his signature maniacal laughter, shaking the roof of the tent. He grabbed the scroll, didn't even look at the content, and crushed it directly into a ball of waste paper.
Interested? More than just interested! In this damn ninja world, who else could train Taijutsu to such a perverted level besides that old bastard Garp?
Yotsuki Raito? What a crappy name.
The rotation speed of the three tomoe in Golden Lion's eyes suddenly increased, and a tangible killing intent erupted from his body. The surrounding air seemed to drop several degrees instantly. Nawaki's face turned pale, gripping Orochimaru's hem tightly. The Anbu kneeling on the ground broke out in a sweat, breathing with difficulty.
"Orochimaru."
Golden Lion stood up abruptly, planting both hands on the table, his blood-stained face almost pressing against Orochimaru's nose.
"Give that guy to me. I'm going to the East Line."
Orochimaru leaned back slightly, avoiding the assaulting scent of blood, a gleam flashing in his golden vertical pupils.
"Since Tsubasa-kun wants to make a move, then I wish you a victorious return."
Before leaving, the Third Hokage had instructed him not to restrict the Uchiha too much. Moreover, he also wanted to see just how powerful this top-tier figure, currently in the limelight of Konoha, really was.
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