In the depths of the thick mist, Uchiha Yashiro stood with his sword in both hands, the crimson pupils of his Sharingan spinning rapidly.
He had been separated from his allies.
Within the mist, Kirigakure shinobi darted about, their figures blurred and indistinct. Though the Sharingan could track their speed, it could not pierce through the dense fog.
At the same time, the voices of the Kirigakure shinobi echoed incessantly from the mist:
"Heart."
"Liver."
"Spleen."
"Lungs."
"Kidneys."
"Which one do you want to lose first?"
The voices taunted, attempting to instill fear in Yashiro. Yet he remained unmoved, his Sharingan flickering as he tried to pinpoint their locations. The number of enemies hidden in the mist was far from small.
Facing this crisis, he shouldn't have been the one here in the first place. But the confidence granted by his foundational internal energy had led him to follow Uchiha Fugaku. He had made his choice—and with it, accepted the consequences, whether danger or death.
A figure materialized soundlessly behind Yashiro, thrusting a kunai toward his back. The strike was silent, aimed straight for his heart.
At that moment, Yashiro suddenly turned his head.
"Your tricks are nothing new to me."
The three tomoe in his crimson Sharingan slowly rotated. The attacking mist ninja's pupils contracted as an intense burning sensation surged through his body, the world around him transforming into a sea of flames.
"An illusion—!"
But the realization came too late.
Yashiro's blade flashed across the ninja's throat, sealing his fate.
"Fool."
A hoarse voice rang out from the mist.
"Don't look into his eyes. The Uchiha's Sharingan is not to be underestimated."
As the voice faded, three figures lunged from the fog, their kunai and swords slashing at Yashiro. Though their movements were silent and their angles of attack obscured, Yashiro reacted instantly—a skill honed through countless battles against Kirigakure shinobi. In moments like these, his instinct for danger proved more reliable than the Sharingan.
Yet he wouldn't simply endure the assault.
His breathing pattern shifted dramatically.
"Stone Breathing."
A gust of gray dust sprayed from his mouth and nose.
"First Form: Serpentine Rock! Twin Poles!"
Yashiro swung his sword fiercely, his chakra manifesting as rocky formations that morphed into a massive axe and hammer, crashing toward two of the attackers. But a third assailant remained.
"Stone Breathing!"
"Third Form: Stone Body Armor!"
His blade danced, and chains of earth coiled around his body, deflecting the third attacker's strike. The three enemies blocked his counterattack and retreated into the mist once more, their gazes fixed on Yashiro's body to avoid falling prey to his genjutsu.
"So, the Kirigakure assassination squad?"
Assassination units rarely relied on large-scale ninjutsu, preferring to strike under the cover of mist. They were also adept at retreating swiftly, making them notoriously difficult to eliminate.
"Then my priority is to regroup with Fugaku."
He crouched low, poised to sprint.
"He's trying to escape! Stop him!"
Figures surged from the mist.
"Stone Breathing! Fourth Form: Flowing Rock! Swift Advance!"
A whirlwind of axes and spiked maces formed from rock encircled him as Yashiro bolted deeper into the fog. His speed was electric, weaving through the mist effortlessly. The mist ninja attacked relentlessly, but their strikes were intercepted by the spinning weapons. Without shattering the axes and hammers, they couldn't touch Yashiro.
The mist thickened around him, but the Kirigakure shinobi refused to relent.
As he ran, Yashiro employed various techniques to scout his surroundings. His Sharingan scanned tirelessly for any clue, but the mist itself was a barrier—a ninjutsu designed to obscure direction and thwart tracking. Locating Fugaku seemed impossible.
Suddenly, a piercing sound cut through the air, followed by a bolt of lightning-like light streaking toward him.
The axes and hammers shattered instantly.
Yashiro twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the attack, but the force of the impact sent him crashing to the ground. As he looked up in shock, a figure emerged from the mist—a short, elderly man wielding a razor-sharp blade, his gaze as cold and cutting as his weapon. The absurd contrast of his diminutive stature almost made the scene comical.
"Uchiha, where do you think you're running?" the old man sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Planning to save your comrade?"
"Try saving him in hell."
Yashiro rose to his feet, gripping his sword tightly as he studied the old man.
"The Kirigakure assassination squad is said to have Three Demons. Which one are you?"
The Crimson Demon, the White Demon, and the Corpse Demon—leaders of the squad. These three had once faced the White Fang together and lived to tell the tale. They were no ordinary opponents.
"Boy, isn't it obvious? I am Kirigakure's White Demon."
The White Demon's form dissolved back into the mist.
In the next instant, a flurry of attacks rained down on Yashiro like a storm.
"Stone Breathing!"
"Second Form: Sky-Shattering Smash!"
Instead of defending, Yashiro slammed his sword into the ground. Instantly, a barrage of spiked maces erupted from the earth, hurtling in all directions.
The attack was too fast to evade.
Groans of pain echoed through the mist as several shinobi were struck. Whether the White Demon was among them remained unknown.
Yashiro's mind raced through the intelligence on the White Demon. As someone who had battled the White Fang, Konoha had extensive records on him.
The White Demon specialized in swordsmanship—a speed-based style similar to the White Fang's, though inferior in both speed and power. His strength lay in using the mist to deliver fatal strikes unseen. If the Three Demons fought together, even the White Fang had struggled.
Yashiro didn't presume to compare himself to the White Fang, but facing one demon alone—even with other mist ninja aiding him—meant victory wasn't impossible.
With a swift motion, Yashiro's figure blurred as he dashed forward. Swords and kunai clashed against the ground where he had stood moments earlier.
Now airborne, Yashiro clenched the hilt of his sword between his teeth and formed hand seals with both hands.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow River!"
The terrain liquefied into a churning river of mud, forcing the hidden mist ninja into the open.
"Found you."
Yashiro's gaze locked onto the elderly figure among the crowd.
"Stone Breathing!"
His body's weight shifted as he raised his sword high.
"Fifth Form: Tile Wheel Execution!"
The blade descended with crushing force.
A storm of spiked maces and throwing axes materialized midair, raining down alongside Yashiro's strike in a devastating bombardment.
Trapped by the mud, the White Demon had no room to dodge.
His body was struck—then dissolved into a puddle of water.
The battle was far from over.
...
"Thanks to Godphaze for the support."
Read 50 advance at patreon.com/CNBLUE
(End of Chapter)