"Did I hear that right? He said he'd butcher us? Haha, that's hilarious. Fujiwara, handle them! But don't kill them outright. Leave them half-dead—especially that girl; she's quite delicate."
"Yes, Lord Daimyo."
In a blur of movement enhanced by the Body Flicker Technique, Fujiwara Hayate appeared before Kimimaro and his companions.
"You two, fall back! Jugo, protect Karin!"
Kimimaro lunged forward, his taijutsu-honed body twisting midair into a flying kick that slammed into Hayate's guard, forcing the jonin back a step.
"Hm? Not bad," Hayate muttered. "So you're a close-combat specialist."
He clapped his hands together in a flurry of seals.
"Wind Release: Vacuum Great Sphere!"
A compressed mass of high-pressure air shot forward like a cannonball. Before it struck, he followed up with another technique.
"Wind Release: Vacuum Serial Waves!"
A barrage of curved wind blades sliced through the air, forming a layered assault.
Kimimaro's eyes narrowed.
"Wind Release attacks—tricky to evade."
The surrounding air distorted with turbulence. No matter how agile he was, dodging all of them was nearly impossible. But Kimimaro didn't flinch. He surged forward.
His kekkei genkai, Shikotsumyaku, activated. Bones jutted from his arms, ribcage, and back, forming a dense armor that shielded his vital spots. Several wind blades struck, chipping and cracking bone, but none reached flesh.
In one swift motion, he tore his own spine free and fashioned it into a whip.
"A kekkei genkai user, huh?" Hayate sneered. "So that's why you dared face me. But it won't help—Wind Release cuts through anything."
He flicked three fingers forward.
A dense, high-velocity wind blade formed at his fingertips—clearly shaped without hand signs, a testament to mastery.
It slashed forward—
—and collided with Kimimaro's bone shield.
The wind blade cut—but then slowed—and stopped. It had only sliced partway through the dense bone.
"What?! Your bones—how are they this hard?"
Kimimaro gave a faint smile.
"You think I need to close in because I lack ranged jutsu? No—I wanted to touch you."
The bone whip lashed out, entangling Hayate's leg. In one eerie movement, Kimimaro reattached the whip to his spine, freeing his hands. He grabbed Hayate by both wrists.
"What's the point of this? Trying to wrestle a jonin?"
"No. I'm testing how much life force a jonin has."
Hayate's expression twisted. A chill ran through him—something was being drained from his very core.
"What technique is this?! What are you doing to me?"
He gathered chakra, trying to disrupt the strange effect.
Kimimaro's eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Hmph… your resistance slowed the process. So, strong-willed targets can delay life absorption. But not stop it."
As he spoke, dark markings spread across his body.
Cursed Seal of Earth—Level One.
A spike in chakra. The absorption intensified.
Hayate struggled, but his strength waned rapidly.
Then—
Cursed Seal Level Two.
Kimimaro's form shifted further—his skin gray, his features sharpened. The rate of absorption surged. Life energy flooded into him.
Inside Kimimaro's system interface, the number ticked upward:
+10,000 life force.
Hayate's face had turned ashen.
Meanwhile, the nearby chūnin hesitated.
"What's Lord Hayate doing? Why isn't he fighting back?"
One of them gritted his teeth.
"We have to help him—attack that kid!"
But before they could reach Kimimaro, a massive figure stood in their path.
"You cannot disturb Kimimaro."
It was Jugo. His usually calm demeanor had shifted—his body already beginning its partial transformation.
"Excellent… ten thousand and counting," Kimimaro thought.
"Fujiwara Hayate, you were a fine source."
Draining life energy from living beings had its risks. If more than 80% was extracted, the target would be left in a critical state, often on the brink of death.
Fujiwara Hayate wasn't a top-tier jōnin—his total life force barely surpassed ten thousand units. Now, he was barely clinging to life, gasping weakly on the ground.
Kimimaro slowly released his grip. Hayate collapsed, his vitality almost entirely depleted.
[Host's current absorption rate has reached the threshold. Absorbing life energy directly from a living being differs significantly from extracting residual energy from corpses—it requires longer digestion. Absorbing from multiple living sources in a short span will exponentially increase the digestion time.]
[Note: The ninja's life energy has been fully depleted. No further essence can be extracted from their body.]
"So it has its limits," Kimimaro muttered. He was slightly disappointed, but this battle had still yielded impressive gains. His stored life energy was nearing 20,000.
When the remaining chūnin saw their leader fall, they panicked. Without waiting for orders, they rushed back to the carriage.
"Hurry, go!" shouted Daimyo Mitsuda, sweat pouring from his brow. "He's a taijutsu-type! He just fought a major battle—he won't have the energy to pursue us!"
The carriage lurched forward at full speed.
Kimimaro narrowed his eyes.
"Dance of the Clematis," he whispered.
His chakra surged. From where he stood, countless pale bones burst forth from the ground in a straight path. In seconds, they caught up with the fleeing carriage. White spires erupted in precise arcs, impaling the vehicle and the panicked chūnin guarding it.
After completing the refinement of his Shikotsumyaku, Kimimaro's control over his kekkei genkai had reached an extraordinary level. He could now precisely execute the Dance of the Clematis without expending excess chakra—each bone growth targeted and deliberate.
"This time, I've finally acquired some useful resources."
Kimimaro collected the blood and flesh essence from the fallen, pushing his usable life energy past 20,000.
Among the loot, he also found multiple ninja tools and sealing scrolls—standard equipment but immensely valuable. The scrolls acted like portable storage, a common convenience for experienced shinobi.
Inside were kunai, shuriken, wire, and even a few smoke bombs—enough to arm his group. Even more helpful was the sizable pouch of ryo the Daimyo had been carrying.
In one clean strike, they had gone from travelers to wealthy rogue ninjas.
A short distance away, hidden among the rocks, several nervous shinobi observed the scene.
"Was that really him?" one whispered, swallowing hard. "That Shikotsumyaku... it could only be Kimimaro."
"But he's far too strong. His control over Dance of the Clematis is unlike anything recorded in our clan's scrolls. Even jōnin-level Taketori can't use it that precisely."
"Should we fall back? Report this to the jōnin. We're just chūnin. This isn't someone we can handle."
These were chūnin scouts dispatched by the Taketori clan. After days of fruitless searching, the clan's elite had split them into smaller teams to cover more ground.
Now, this group was unsure if their luck was good or fatal.
Luckily, they had kept their distance, observing through long-range lenses—standard tools used by tracking squads—and hadn't been noticed.
"Let's get out of here," one muttered. "Let the jōnin handle this monster."
But just as they turned to leave—
"Hey! What are you guys doing here, sneaking around?"
They froze.
A girl stood behind them, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.