"Eight Trigrams: Empty Palm!"
The shout tore through the battlefield like thunder.
A white blur streaked across the torn mountain path — Hyūga Tennin, his palms striking faster than the eye could track.
Every blow released a storm of compressed chakra that shredded the air itself. The shockwaves sent the Tōjū coalition shinobi flying one after another, their armor dented, ribs cracking from the impact. Those unlucky enough to take a direct hit didn't get back up.
"Hyūga Tennin!"
From the rear, Tōjū Masaki's voice bellowed like a rolling drum. He swung a massive iron staff the size of a tree trunk, chakra roaring through his arms as he charged straight at the Byakugan general.
Tennin's eyes narrowed. "Hm?"
His Byakugan flared — veins bulging, the world around him blooming into white clarity. The wind shifted, dust curling around his sandals. He felt that killing intent rushing closer, and a spark of thrill crossed his usually stoic face.
"So the commander finally shows himself."
Tennin's chakra surged as he pivoted, meeting the attack head-on.
BOOM!
The ground split open as their strikes collided.
Even after losing to Raizen weeks ago, Tennin was still a monster — his Gentle Fist had evolved beyond technique, into destruction itself. Each palm strike carried the weight of an avalanche.
Masaki barely blocked the first blow before being driven back, his heels gouging twin trenches through the earth.
"Damn it—he's too strong!"
Tennin smirked coldly, eyes glinting. "I thought the commander of the Tōjū Clan would last longer. Turns out you're just loud."
Masaki's face darkened. "If you were truly that strong, you wouldn't have fallen in the south without even drawing blood. Tell me, Hyūga Tennin—how does it feel to serve another man's war?"
"You wanna die that badly?"
Tennin's patience cracked. He lunged forward, hands flickering — each movement precise, merciless, filled with fury.
Masaki retreated under the storm of palms, his iron staff barely deflecting the blows. The ground shook under their chakra collisions, dust choking the air.
"Support the commander! Surround Hyūga Tennin!"
Masaki's order snapped the spell. Three elite jōnin dashed in, their chakra flaring as they joined the fight.
Steel clashed, shuriken screamed, and for the first time Tennin's advance slowed — not stopped, but strained.
He snarled. "Konoha shinobi! Advance and kill them all!"
At his command, the Konoha army surged forward like a living tide.
"Hold your ground!" the Tōjū deputy commander roared. "Form defensive lines and counterattack!"
Rows of ninja slammed their hands into the soil.
"Earth Style: Earth Wall!"
Dozens of earthen ramparts erupted from the ground, forming jagged barriers between the two armies. The Tōjū forces crouched behind them, unleashing volleys of kunai and jutsu through the gaps.
The world exploded into color.
"Wind Style: Breakthrough!"
"Fire Style: Great Flame Bomb!"
"Wind Demon Shuriken Technique!"
Wind roared and fire flashed as both sides hurled ninjutsu like artillery. The air turned into a storm of chakra and shrapnel.
Raizen would've called it what it was — organized chaos.
Konoha's deputy commander assessed the mess grimly, then barked, "Form three divisions! Left and right flanks — move to encircle! Middle division — pin them down!"
Within minutes, the Konoha formation split apart and reformed like clockwork.
"Report! The enemy is attacking our flanks! The outer lines request immediate reinforcements!"
The Tōjū deputy commander's hand trembled. They were six thousand against ten thousand — a losing equation no matter the tactics. If he sent support, the center would collapse. If he didn't, the flanks would fall.
"My lord, if the wings break, the center won't last either!"
He clenched his jaw. "Fine! Send fifteen hundred from the front line to reinforce both sides!"
The order spread — and so did the holes in their formation. The front ranks buckled under renewed Konoha assault.
Hyūga Tennin saw it all through the dust — his pale eyes tracking every weakening pulse of chakra, every widening gap.
He laughed, harsh and cold.
"Tōjū Masaki! Your line's collapsing! When the center breaks, so do you!"
Masaki ignored the taunt, gathering chakra into his lungs and spewing a torrent of flame.
"Fire Style: Burning Vortex!"
A spiraling inferno erupted, swallowing Tennin whole.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield went silent.
Then the flames split apart — Tennin burst through the center, his chakra forming a roaring cyclone around him.
"Eight Trigrams: Gentle Fist Barrage!"
The counterstrike hit like divine punishment.
The four elite jōnin were hurled backward, blood spraying through the smoke. Masaki staggered, one knee sinking into the mud as Tennin's relentless palms drove him down.
Above them, the sky burned red from thousands of jutsu colliding at once.
The Antamon Mountains — and the northern front — trembled under Konoha's advance.
...
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