"This Wind Breathing technique has serious potential."
Umino Yoru leaned on his sword, exhausted but exhilarated.
The Wind Breathing Burst consumed a lot of chakra, but its amplification effect was massive—comparable to the Seven Heavens Breathing Method or the Eight Gates. With further refinement, he might even achieve a permanent Wind Breathing state.
**"Development can wait… cough… Need to recover first. Pretty sure I threw out my back."**
He planted his Fish-Cutting Blade into the ground and pushed himself up with a grunt. The moment he steadied himself, he grabbed a handful of salted fish jerky, dipped it in malt syrup, and devoured it ravenously.
His stamina and chakra were drained—he needed fuel, fast.
After over ten pounds of jerky and two large bowls of syrup, his eating speed still hadn't slowed.
"Looks like my digestion speed is catching up to the Akimichi clan's."
His Gluttony Technique was originally derived from the Akimichi's Calorie Control, but after modifications—especially when synchronized with Wind Breathing and enhanced by Yang Release cell activation—his digestion had evolved into something entirely different.
"Gluttony Technique 2.0 is officially born."
The Akimichi's method stored energy as fat for instant use.
His version, however, permanently strengthened cells through Wind Breathing, with the added benefit of chakra and stamina recovery.
Neither was strictly better—just different approaches.
Akimichi Method: Fast, efficient, combat-ready energy storage. Gluttony 2.0: Slow, long-term cellular enhancement, requiring years of training.
"This malt syrup isn't gonna last, though."
He eyed the empty bowl grimly. At this rate, his 500-pound stash would vanish in days.
Carbs were essential—he couldn't just rely on protein. And his Malt Syrup Binding Technique was another huge resource drain.
"My wallet's crying."
He patted his thin pouch, realizing something: Clan ninjas don't just rely on bloodlines—they rely on money.
For a civilian shinobi, the path to power kept narrowing.
In the shinobi world, pay-to-win is real.
Even without jutsu development, money = power. Take Tekuda—with enough sealed iron prison gates, he could mimic an A-rank defensive technique.
"Eh, forget money. I'm in it for the grind."
Shaking off financial woes, he summoned another water whip and resumed refining his Malt Syrup Binding.
The Bee Incident
"Hm?"
Dozens of bees had landed nearby, drawn by spilled syrup.
"Shiro", his falcon, swooped in, devouring both syrup and bees in a frenzy.
"Whoa, easy!"
Umino Yoru Body Flickered in, stopping the massacre—then poured out a bowl of syrup for the bees.
These weren't ordinary bees. At thumb-sized, they'd be giants in his past life—but in the chakra-saturated shinobi world, they were small fry.
After feasting, the bees flew off.
"Let's see where you're from."
Activating Subsonic Radar, he shadowed them with Shunshin.
Three kilometers later, he reached a stone cliff.
"Rock bees. No wonder they're tiny."
His radar revealed hives hidden in crevices—over a hundred pounds of honey.
Most shinobi clans (like Iwagakure's Kamizuru) bred giant tree bees, aggressive and hard to harvest.
These rock bees were smaller, nesting in stone, far less dangerous—but their hives were locked behind solid rock.
The Honey Heist
Scaling the cliff with chakra adhesion, he reached the hives—
BZZZZT!
A swarm of bees attacked, firing needle-like stingers in a thousand-point barrage.
Even for a chūnin, this would be lethal without defense.
"Pulse."
A subsonic shockwave rippled out—bees dropped like rain, stunned but unharmed.
When more kept coming, he formed the Tiger seal.
"Ultrasonic Repulsion!"
Invisible waves sent the bees reeling in disorientation.
"Finally, peace."
Now for the real challenge: the rock.
He stabbed a kunai into the crevice—sparks flew, but only flecks of stone chipped away.
"This'll take all day."
No wonder mountain honey sold for 4,000 ryō per pound—most ninja wouldn't bother with this hassle.
"Explosive tags?"
He dismissed the idea.
Too loud (they were on the front lines). Too expensive (why waste tags on honey?).
Then—inspiration struck.
"Got it."
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