Wind Country — the Capital.
For a nation defined by deserts, the capital of Wind Country—built atop its largest oasis—showed no trace of sandstorms or desolation.
Clear meltwater from distant snow mountains wound its way through the city like silver ribbons. Hardy desert plants flourished along the streets, while beyond the outer walls stretched lush grasslands, forests, and fields of golden wheat as far as the eye could see.
At first glance, it was almost impossible to believe this city stood in the heart of a desert nation.
But that, too, was only natural.
As one of the Five Great Countries, Wind Country couldn't possibly be nothing but sand. A nation like that would never be able to sustain itself as a great power. Even places like ancient Egypt had the Nile; Wind Country, likewise, possessed fertile lands that supported the state's core population.
The true deserts—aside from a few scattered oases—served mostly as mineral zones and strategic depth.
"No wonder relations between Sunagakure and Wind Country have always been strained," Feiyu muttered as he took in the scenery.
"I've heard that Sunagakure was formed from shinobi clans scattered across the desert, while most of Wind Country's civilians live near the capital."
"In fact, people living deep in the desert probably make up less than twenty percent of the population."
Standing here, the divide was obvious.
Those who lived amid abundance and water developed a mindset entirely different from those scraping out a living in endless sand. Their values, habits, even cultural identity had split long ago.
From that perspective, the rift between Sunagakure and Wind Country was nearly irreparable.
"Even if the divide can't be healed," Feiyu thought calmly,
"there still has to be a clear hierarchy."
"Sunagakure may be the minority, but it must be the true spearhead of Wind Country."
Or, more precisely—
Wind Country needed to be under his control.
As Feiyu approached the capital gates, several guards stood watch. With a casual glance, he sensed faint traces of chakra within them.
Their chakra reserves were pitifully small.
Each was a well-built adult, yet the chakra inside them was barely on par with a third- or fourth-year academy student. At that level, they could barely manage the Three Basic Techniques a few times, let alone elemental ninjutsu.
But used purely to reinforce the body—and paired with swordsmanship or taijutsu—they were more than enough to overpower ordinary civilians.
More importantly, the mere presence of chakra gave them some resistance to genjutsu and transformation techniques.
Weak resistance, yes—but the difference between zero and one was enormous.
In theory, an army made of such soldiers could force even ordinary jōnin to retreat, barring special techniques.
This, too, was one of the Wind Daimyō's trump cards against Sunagakure.
Of course, in Feiyu's eyes, these soldiers only mattered because they were protected by shrine monks and guard-nin. Otherwise, a few well-executed decapitation strikes would render any army meaningless.
Feiyu walked straight through the city gates.
Despite his shinobi flak jacket, the guards let him pass as if they hadn't seen him at all. To minds with chakra this weak, his genjutsu was only marginally harder to apply than it was on civilians.
Once inside, Feiyu didn't bother sightseeing.
He headed directly toward the Daimyō's Palace at the city's center.
The palace stood within the city yet was enclosed by its own walls and keep. Feiyu could clearly sense a barrier covering the entire compound.
"This barrier's stronger than Sunagakure's," he noted.
"The Wind Daimyō is more cautious than I expected."
Such a barrier couldn't exist without the help of Wind Country's monks. And since the palace was far smaller than a shinobi village, the same resources naturally produced a much denser, more effective seal.
Even Feiyu felt a faint headache looking at it.
Barrier and sealing techniques weren't his forte.
Few shinobi specialized in them, which meant fewer souls to learn from. Worse still, much of sealing was theoretical—knowledge that didn't transfer efficiently even through possession.
Feiyu had deliberately neglected that path.
"…But it doesn't matter," he thought.
"My goal was never just to control the Wind Daimyō."
Without using genjutsu, Feiyu stepped straight into the palace grounds.
The two samurai guarding the gate stiffened in shock.
"Who are you?! How dare you trespass into the Daimyō's palace?!"
"Wait—his attire—he's a shinobi!"
Those words became their last.
Feiyu extended one hand. Crackling lightning condensed into a razor-edged blade, and in a single motion, both heads flew.
Highly condensed Lightning Release scorched the wounds instantly. Even as the bodies fell, barely any blood spilled.
Pedestrians froze.
Some stared in stunned silence. Others collapsed in terror. A few screamed.
At the same time, the palace barrier rippled violently.
Like a nest of hornets stirred with a stick, shinobi and monks poured out from within.
Feiyu smiled faintly.
Lightning screamed across his body, forming an impregnable armor.
"Hm…" he mused aloud.
"What should I use first?"
The guards didn't wait.
Weapons stabbed toward him in unison.
A rapid crack-crack-crack echoed as blades shattered against the lightning armor. Feiyu casually drew his short sword and swept it once—
Bodies fell in halves, screams cut short.
Golden chains suddenly shot forth, wrapping around Feiyu and disrupting his chakra flow.
Monks at the perimeter formed seals, each launching a shimmering golden chain—eerily similar to the Uzumaki clan's Adamantine Sealing Chains.
But unlike Kushina or Karin, who could summon four to eight chains at once, only four monks here could use them, each producing just a single chain.
"So this is how you once suppressed Shukaku," Feiyu murmured.
"Seal specialists."
Then—
Boom.
Feiyu exploded into a burst of lightning.
A clone.
"A Lightning Clone?! Where's the real body?!" someone shouted.
Before anyone could react, the ground began to tremble.
The palace tower shook.
With startled cries, several powerful-looking shinobi leapt down—escorting an elderly man clad in luxurious robes.
"Finally," a calm voice echoed.
Golden sand erupted from cracks in the earth, floating into the air. Standing atop it was Feiyu, mask gleaming.
"Greetings, Daimyō-sama."
"Magnet Release… Sunagakure shinobi!" the old man barked, forcing authority into his voice.
"Are you rebelling?!"
Feiyu ignored the bluster.
What surprised him was the faint but distinct chakra within the Daimyō—stronger than a genin's, roughly on par with someone like Iruka.
"Well, this is interesting," Feiyu said lightly.
"You're not using Transformation. That chakra is really yours."
"You're… actually a decent chakra user."
The Daimyō snorted coldly.
"I'm no shinobi. I merely possess chakra. Since when is chakra exclusive to shinobi?"
In a world where personal power defined status, it was natural for someone at the pinnacle of authority to covet such strength.
Even so, Feiyu hadn't expected the Wind Daimyō to possess this level of talent.
Of course, that talent only mattered among civilians. Against Feiyu, it meant nothing.
The moment they locked eyes, Feiyu could drag him into illusion at will.
"I never imagined Sunagakure would storm my palace," the Daimyō said grimly.
"All because I reduced your funding?"
"Judging by your performance against Konoha, wasn't that reduction entirely justified?"
"It's not just about funding," Feiyu replied coldly.
"You've been cultivating monks and guard forces under your own command. Your intentions are obvious."
"Keep weakening Sunagakure, and in ten or twenty years, we won't fall to foreign enemies—we'll collapse under your knife."
History proved it.
By the time of Shippūden, Sunagakure had been driven to madness, even launching the disgraceful Konoha Crush—an act so shameless it shattered every unspoken rule among the Five Great Villages.
Rasa was unstable, yes.
But only desperation could push a village that far.
The Daimyō's face darkened.
"Hmph. Absurd."
"…But perhaps I did go too far. You are still Wind Country's military power."
He paused.
"I'm willing to adjust the funding."
Feiyu blinked in mild surprise.
Then he understood.
The Daimyō had never wanted mutual destruction. He'd planned a slow bleed—weakening Sunagakure without provoking open rebellion.
If Sunagakure revolted outright, Wind Country would lose its status as a great nation—at best fracturing, at worst being carved up by rivals.
A political creature knew when to bend.
Unfortunately for him—
Feiyu didn't come here to negotiate.
His true targets were the monks, the wandering shinobi, the chakra soldiers—
All perfect fuel for his growth.
If control were his only aim, invisibility plus Mangekyō genjutsu would've been enough.
Why announce himself?
The answer flashed red in Feiyu's eyes.
Mangekyō power ignited.
The Daimyō's pupils dilated as rage flooded his mind.
"Sunagakure dares betray me?!" he roared.
"Unforgivable! Kill him—all of you!
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