The moment Hoshiyomi finished speaking, a hazy full moon seemed to rise through the thick storm clouds overhead.
It wasn't actually midnight—the illusion was part of the technique:
Oboro Urazuki: Eleven Forms
Soft, silvery moonlight spilled down, bathing Hoshiyomi in an ethereal glow, as though the heavens themselves were casting light upon him.
In that instant, he truly did look like a sage monk who had reached enlightenment.
To the Iwagakure shinobi, it felt like they were hallucinating from overstimulation.
The figure of Hoshiyomi—who had just stood there, motionless like a benevolent Buddha—suddenly blurred before their eyes.
Then, in a flash, identical images of him appeared directly in front of the Iwa shinobi, as if he had used the Shadow Clone Technique—but without any smoke.
In the blink of an eye, ten identical Hoshiyomis stood before them.
A moment later, all ten opened their eyes at once, each wearing the same sharp, sinister smile.
In perfect unison, they raised their swords.
Their right hands lifted the Mikazuki Munechika, holding the blades level with their eyes.
With their left hands, they slowly brushed along the intricately carved blade, where three crescent moons and ancient runes gleamed faintly.
As they moved, a strange blue flame ignited along the blades—a cold, eerie flame that flickered like ghostly fire.
Under the glow of the ghostly flames, Hoshiyomi's entire presence changed.
If moments ago he had seemed like a merciful Buddha, now he was an Asura—
A god of wrath, ready to drag them all into hell.
The Iwagakure shinobi swallowed hard, hearts pounding.
Even though Hoshiyomi hadn't made a single real attack yet, the oppressive aura was suffocating.
When someone could embody both benevolence and ruthless destruction in the same moment—
That was true danger.
The sensory team captain tried to snap everyone out of it, shouting:
"It's just Shadow Clones! Watch this—Fire Release: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!"
He'd already completed the hand seals before he even started speaking.
With a deep breath, he spewed out a massive wave of fire that coiled through the air, forming into a flaming dragon.
It roared toward the ten Hoshiyomis, clearly aiming to obliterate both the clones and the real one all at once.
Seeing this, the other Iwa shinobi were emboldened.
They began forming hand seals too:
"Earth Release: Earth Dragon Bullet!"
"Wind Release: Wind Cutter Technique!"
"Earth Release: Rock Collapse!"
Jutsu after jutsu hurtled toward Hoshiyomi's position like a relentless barrage.
Explosions echoed across the swamp, shockwaves tearing the ground apart, as if they intended to blast Hoshiyomi to dust.
Even Tsunade furrowed her brow in concern.
So many high-powered jutsu raining down at once—
Even a Kage-level ninja would hesitate to face that head-on.
But then Lobo's voice rumbled in her ear:
"Don't you know Hoshiyomi by now? He never does anything unless he's sure of the outcome. Trust me—he's got something nasty planned."
Tsunade thought for a moment, realized Lobo was right, and focused on watching what came next.
The relentless wave of jutsu flattened half the swamp, sending mud and debris flying in all directions.
A massive cloud of smoke and dust obscured everything from view.
The Iwagakure shinobi stood there, panting, eyes shining with cruel satisfaction.
With an assault like that—there was no way he survived, right?
Even if the Third Hokage himself were here, he would've been blown half to death by now.
But then Hoshiyomi's voice echoed from within the smoke, calm and clear:
"Have you ever heard the saying,
'Where there's smoke, there's no injury'?"
The voice came from ten different directions simultaneously, as if the entire swamp had been outfitted with surround sound speakers.
Before the Iwa shinobi could react, ten voices rang out together:
"Taste this—Soul Devouring Demon Slash!"
Everyone's faces changed.
Someone shouted in panic:
"Scatter! Get away!"
But it was too late.
Ten ghostly demonic faces, formed from eerie blue flames, tore through the smoke, howling as they flew.
Each flame-face had fangs bared and claws extended, like death spirits from the underworld.
Even before they reached the Iwa shinobi, the sheer wind pressure made the air crackle.
When the flames hit, they exploded with a thunderous roar.
Blue fire scattered in all directions, splashing onto the nearby shinobi.
This wasn't ordinary fire.
The blue flames were terrifyingly potent—within seconds, they spread from a single spark to engulf an entire body.
Because the Iwa shinobi had been clustered tightly together after their combined assault, the explosions spread rapidly.
In the blink of an eye, more than ten shinobi were consumed by the ghost flames.
The unlucky ones dropped to the ground, rolling and shrieking in agony:
"Help me!"
"Too hot! It burns! Help!"
"Water! Use Water Style, quick!"
But this was no ordinary fire.
Though it wasn't on the level of Amaterasu, the flames from Soul-Devouring Demon Slash weren't something regular Water Style jutsu could extinguish.
Worse, once the surrounding shinobi saw how vicious the flames were, they backed off. No one dared to help.
In the end, no one survived—the ten shinobi caught in the blast were reduced to blackened husks.
Yet the surviving Iwa shinobi didn't have time to grieve.
Because at that moment, ten streaks of silver light shot toward them like blades of moonlight. It was Crescent Moon Slash—Hoshiyomi's signature close-quarters technique.
The ten Hoshiyomis, each moving from a different angle, crashed into the Iwa ranks like blades of moonlight cutting through the night.
Despite their best efforts to dodge, the result was still disastrous.
The sudden assault caused massive casualties in an instant.
Of course, not all Iwa shinobi were pushovers.
Some of the more experienced ones chose not to flee.
Instead, they drew their weapons and engaged the incoming Hoshiyomis head-on.
Though the situation was strange and terrifying, they hadn't lost their nerve completely.
They still dared to fight against the clones.
After all, how strong could Hoshiyomi be after splitting himself into so many Shadow Clones?
And besides—if they were clones, then there had to be an original.
Shadow Clones always disappeared when injured—once they took out the fakes, they'd find the real one for sure.
But then they encountered a nightmare they couldn't comprehend.
An elite jōnin, nimble and skilled, managed to dodge one of Hoshiyomi's strikes.
A smug smile spread across his face.
Konoha's Silver Moon? Hah—so this is all you've got?
You've shown an opening. Die!
Thinking this, the jōnin drove his kunai straight into Hoshiyomi's throat, no hesitation.
In his mind, there were only two possible outcomes:
He was lucky and had hit the real Hoshiyomi—time for fame and promotion.
He'd struck a clone—no problem, Shadow Clones vanish when they're hit.
Either way, he figured he was perfectly safe.
But to his shock—
The kunai pierced through Hoshiyomi's throat, yet the man didn't die.
The wound didn't bleed.
Hoshiyomi didn't even flinch.
It was as if the gaping hole in his neck wasn't real.
Instead, Hoshiyomi calmly turned and, in one smooth motion, plunged his blade into the jōnin's back, skewering his heart.
The elite jōnin died without ever understanding what had happened.
Why?
I stabbed his throat—so why am I the one dying?
And this wasn't an isolated case.
It kept happening, over and over.
They thought they were facing a merciful Buddha.
But from the very beginning—
Hoshiyomi Gekkō had been an Asura all along.