The human head exploded like a watermelon.
Samui, who was close at hand, was splashed by the warm "watermelon juice" before she could react. It flowed down her face and shoulders, staining her flak jacket and soaking into the folds of her attire.
"..."
Samui's lips parted slightly, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. This time, she was truly stunned.
Duan saw this and frowned slightly.
He had originally intended to knock the bald man unconscious — he didn't mean to be so ruthless. Yet even with only three-tenths of his strength, the man's skull gave way.
A miscalculation — a result of Duan's lack of actual combat experience. He hadn't killed often.
He'd need to be more careful next time.
A breeze swept through the bridge, dispersing the smoke.
On the stone deck, Samui stood frozen, covered in blood, her mind still reeling.
At her feet lay the decapitated corpse of the spy leader, neck gushing blood, the head nowhere in sight.
The gruesome sight stunned everyone: the four remaining spies and the pursuing Uchiha police officers alike.
Gululu.
A palm-sized scroll rolled from the spy leader's flak jacket. It came to a stop at Duan's feet.
Its official seal indicated importance — likely intelligence meant for extraction.
"Retrieve the scroll!"
The remaining spies snapped from their daze, eyes wide with urgency. They lunged toward Duan without hesitation.
As elite operatives, they held no illusions of revenge — but the scroll's contents were mission-critical. Worth more than their own lives.
Kill!
Their chakra flared, speed surging. Four kunai and a short blade glinted in the sun.
Two attacked from above, aiming at Duan's eyes and throat; the other two came in from below, targeting his abdomen and heart. Their formation was tight, their timing perfect.
A simultaneous strike from all directions — swift, lethal, and silent.
Not good.
Samui jolted awake, her ANBU-level instincts recognizing the attackers immediately: shinobi from Amegakure.
The Hidden Rain Village — small but deadly. Its ninja had long mastered assassination and espionage, their techniques honed in endless conflict. Each operative was an elite.
Even a seasoned Konoha jōnin would be overwhelmed by a coordinated assault like this.
At this critical moment—
"Curator, behind you!"
Samui shouted, her usual calm breaking. She dropped her bag of groceries, revealing a short dagger hidden beneath her sleeve.
She knew she couldn't let Duan take on four Rain ninja alone — not without risk. If she didn't intervene, they'd both die.
She prepared to intercept one or two of the attackers.
Before she could act, however, Duan let out a soft sigh.
What a mess.
One hand still holding groceries, Duan looked almost inconvenienced. He could fight with one arm if he needed to. It wasn't a big deal.
What did concern him was Samui.
If she was exposed here — revealed as a spy — he'd lose the best housekeeper he'd ever had. Cooking, cleaning, shopping — she'd been flawless.
He couldn't have that.
A quick resolution was needed.
Duan's eyes hardened. Internally, he muttered that familiar phrase:
Smashing — Varudo! (ザ・ワールド)
In that instant—
Bzzt.
A bizarre energy pulsed from Duan, spreading like a wave through the air. Reality itself slowed. The world dimmed, color drained from everything — a black and white photograph frozen in time.
The world had stopped moving.
Swarms of birds flitted across the sky;
The Konoha River flowed under the bridge;
Leaves blew gently on the shore;
Panicked people fled through the streets...
All living and non-living things froze.
The four Amegakure (Hidden Rain) spies stood before Duan in mid-attack, locked in place like lifelike statues. One had his ninja blade suspended less than five centimeters from Duan's throat.
On that man's face, a victorious expression lingered—eyes wide with the glee of what he thought was a killing blow.
Behind Duan, a towering figure manifested—the three-meter-tall Stand "The World," clad in ghostly white armor. It loomed like a deity, silently overseeing frozen time.
Duan's mastery of the Stand was still immature. Though just awakened, his control was enough to halt time for two seconds.
But that was more than enough.
So—
"Wryyy da muda muda muda!!"
In less than a second, Duan and "The World" each unleashed two explosive punches, targeting all four enemies simultaneously.
Then, the fists withdrew. The World returned to Duan's body.
Time resumed.
Plop.
The plastic bag of groceries Samui had dropped finally hit the pavement.
Still holding her short blade, she rushed forward—
BOOM!
A shockwave exploded from Duan's body, kicking up a windstorm that swept through the bridge like a passing typhoon. It was the delayed punch-force of the air crashing back into motion.
And then—
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Four heavy impacts, as all four Hidden Rain spies were flung backward like human projectiles.
Seconds later—
BOOM!
The first slammed into a large roadside tree, shattering it at the trunk. Branches skewered his body, blood pouring out like a fountain.
SPLOOSH!
The second spiraled off the bridge and into the Naka River, sending a geyser into the air before the water turned crimson around him.
CRASH!
The third slid across the ground and smashed head-first into a street wall. Bricks and rubble exploded on impact, burying him in debris.
THUD-THUD-THUD... SPLAT!
The last skidded along the pavement, bouncing several times before crashing near the police unit, his body pulverized beyond recognition.
Two dead on the spot. Two critically wounded.
Those struck by The World were alive, barely. But the two punched directly by Duan's fists... weren't so lucky.
Duan's own strength exceeded that of his Stand.
Silence followed.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded. None could process what they had seen.
Then chaos returned.
Panicked villagers screamed and fled in all directions. The street emptied in moments, leaving only Duan, Samui, and the shell-shocked police force behind.
"C-Curator..."
Samui stared at Duan's calm side profile, short blade trembling in her hand. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.
"Put the knife away," Duan said quietly without even turning.
At that moment, the Konoha Police Force finally stirred.
From their ranks stepped a tall man with shoulder-length brown hair and scarlet three-tomoe Sharingan eyes. His face was stern, aloof.
Uchiha Inahura — a Konoha jōnin, and captain of the Police Force.
"You're... Duan?!"
He stared at Duan's face in disbelief, squinting as if confirming a ghost.
"Daohuo. Been a while," Duan responded with a light wave.
They were of similar age—old acquaintances. Not quite friends, not true enemies either.
But still brothers by blood. Uchiha.
"You took them out in an instant. How the hell did you do that?"
Inahura's eyes burned. The hypnotic pattern of his Sharingan glared into Duan's, demanding answers.
From his perspective, all four spies had attacked simultaneously... and then, within a blink, were obliterated.
Even with the dynamic perception of the Sharingan, Inahura couldn't track Duan's movements.
And Duan had only used one hand—the other still clutched a bag of vegetables.
Under intense scrutiny, Duan shrugged lazily.
"As you saw. I sent them flying."
Inahura stared at him a long moment, the air thick with tension.
Finally, through gritted teeth, he muttered:
"You haven't changed a bit."
His thoughts drifted to a memory—one he had long buried.
Years ago.
Back in the Ninja Academy, Duan had beaten a Chūnin teacher into the ground in front of everyone. That scene was burned into Inahura's mind, a haunting example of Uchiha power unrestrained.
Duan's misdeeds had cast a shadow over the entire clan. Inahura himself had suffered socially just by association.
When Inahura finally earned the rank of Chūnin, he'd challenged Duan publicly.
He had been crushed. Brutally.
Later, Duan left the Uchiha compound, vanishing into his reclusive lifestyle.
But now—now he stood before Inahura, still absurdly strong.
"Captain."
Another police officer interrupted, handing Inahura the field report.
"Three dead on site. The last two are critical—likely won't survive the next hour."
Inahura frowned.
"You hit too hard, Duan. We needed at least one of them alive for interrogation."
Duan met his gaze.
"Spies deserve only one thing. Death. Isn't that what we were taught?"
His tone was casual—but his eyes said otherwise.
Samui's heart jumped. Her legs trembled, face pale. Had she been standing any closer, her cover might've been blown by Duan's words alone.
But she was lucky.
Her fair complexion helped mask her reaction—Inahura didn't notice.
Inahura exhaled deeply.
"Regardless," he said, softening his voice, "I still need you to come with us to file a report. It's procedure. I promise—no trouble."
He was being polite. Diplomatic.
The last thing he wanted was to provoke Duan further.
But Duan?
"Daohuo. Don't waste my time."
Duan looked down at him—not figuratively, but literally, his massive frame towering over the police captain.
His voice wasn't hostile. It was absolute.
A command.
Inahura involuntarily took a step back, caught off guard by the oppressive force behind the words.