The fake Wuyouhua stepped into the laboratory, glanced at the rows of Ghostface warriors, then turned her cold gaze on the medical ninja.
"You all—pull yourselves together! Work faster!" she barked.
The exhausted shinobi straightened their backs and nodded, forcing themselves to continue.
Standing firm, Wuyouhua raised her hands and began to perform the forbidden ritual on the two hundred or so ghost-faced corpses.
Her purple hair lengthened, strands latching onto those of the cadavers. A pulse of black chakra surged through the connection, and the Ghostface warriors' eyes snapped open, pupils black voids without a trace of white.
Each batch lasted only three minutes at most. To save time, she sometimes awakened ten or more at once. But that drained her chakra so severely that, when she could no longer endure, she simply seized captive ninja and drained their chakra dry.
No wonder she lured so many ninja here—this was the reason. To fuel her ritual, she needed endless chakra, and her method was to deceive, capture, and consume.
After feeding on their chakra and blood, the monstrous woman even stripped their flesh to use as material.
Just as her long nails were about to pierce the chest of a barely breathing shinobi, a childlike voice rang through the vast chamber:
"Hey, old hag, why is your way of stealing chakra always so disgusting to watch?"
At the far side of the room stood Hyūga Shigeo, no longer disguised, his pale eyes gleaming.
Wuyouhua froze, startled, then shrieked: "Guards! Seize him!"
But when she spun to flee, she realized—the laboratory was empty. None of her guards were there. Where had Wumang taken them?
The doors slammed shut. She twitched her fingers, calling forth the ten awakened Ghostface soldiers, who rushed at Shigeo.
He inhaled, then exhaled a torrent of molten fire. Some of the warriors, caught in the blaze, melted instantly. He spun, rising into the air, hands forming a seal.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique—Erase!"
A white cube enveloped the Ghostface corpses. With a hiss, they disintegrated into dust.
The false Wuyouhua gasped in horror. All the soldiers she had painstakingly crafted, destroyed in an instant.
"Magnet Release!"
Iron sand surged out behind Shigeo, sealing every wall of the laboratory in a thick barrier. The chamber became a sealed tomb—no one in, no one out.
He had planned this the moment he saw her weaving the forbidden jutsu. If she could flit between her "hair-ghost" skins, then he would trap her in a cage with no escape.
Her eyes narrowed. "Hyūga Shigeo, what do you want?"
"What else? Your death."
Lightning sparked across his arm. He lunged, a thunderbolt cleaving down.
She tried to flick her fingers, to call for aid, but no hair-warriors could breach the sealed walls. She considered using Earth Release to break through, but couldn't bear to damage the lab she had built with so much effort. That hesitation cost her everything.
The lightning struck. She screamed as her body convulsed. Lava followed, engulfing her, reducing her form to molten sludge.
Her shriek echoed until it faded, leaving the laboratory silent.
The thirty medical ninja who had been working non-stop for three days collapsed in relief. Some fainted on the spot.
Shigeo descended lightly, Byakugan veins throbbing as he scanned the entire chamber.
Shuriken flashed. With a sweep, every glass tank shattered, the preservative fluids spilling across the stone. Crimson husks tumbled out, eyeless, skinless corpses used for experiments.
He hovered above the flood, unwilling to touch the floor. The surviving medics scrambled onto tables to avoid the stench.
"Young Hyūga," one said shakily, "that witch… she isn't dead."
Shigeo turned, frowning. "What do you know?"
"She transfers chakra through her hair. She has no true body—only consciousness. As long as her hair survives, she cannot die."
Another added: "Her essence only travels through the skin puppets, not the Ghostface corpses. That much we've seen."
"Anything else of value?" Shigeo pressed.
"No, that's all we know," they answered.
He plucked a bundle of purple hair from a nearby bench. "These were cut from her?"
"Yes."
He tucked it into his pocket. "Good."
Then, with a wave of his hand, the magnetic walls collapsed. The exit creaked open.
"You're free. Go."
The thirty shinobi wasted no time fleeing, staggering out like men reborn.
Shigeo glanced around once more, then ignited the entire laboratory. Flames devoured the room as he vanished.
…
In his personal dimensional space, he dropped the purple strands into a test tube, infused them with chakra, and watched them writhe like serpents.
His eyes narrowed.
"Witchcraft, not ninjutsu… She feeds on others' chakra to sustain it. Complicated, yes—but if all this hinges on one thread, then perhaps…"
His voice trailed off into silence, plotting.
(End of Chapter)
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