Night pressed down on the Land of Water Daimyo's Mansion.
Only a handful of courtyards remained lit—those belonging to indulgent young nobles who had no intention of sleeping early. The rest of the vast estate lay submerged in darkness, silent enough to feel abandoned.
On the surface, the defenses were sparse.
Six newly recruited guards patrolled lazily along the corridors. Two veteran guardian ninja hid in elevated positions, suppressing their presence as they monitored the grounds. It looked careless—almost negligent.
But that was precisely why Danzo had chosen this place.
His funds were nearly exhausted. Every move now had to be clean, quiet, and efficient. More importantly, his existence could not be exposed. This operation was never meant to be a battle—it was theft, nothing more.
By dusk, Root had already acted.
Agents slipped in with servant supply teams, melted into the servants' quarters, and waited. When night fell, the servants inside were silenced one by one. Six Root members changed clothes, adopted familiar routines, and calmly carried trays toward the inner halls, as if heading to serve a late banquet.
No hesitation. No rush.
They walked straight into the heart of the mansion.
Hidden Mist operated very differently.
Subtlety was unnecessary.
Their orders were simple: kill everyone left behind. Make the Land of Water Daimyo bleed enough to remember who truly held power.
Four elite squads advanced in silence, each led by a jonin. These were veterans—coordinated, disciplined, accustomed to killing together. Failure was not a consideration.
Two squads moved toward the attics. The other two dissolved into the darkness, waiting.
The moment the Hidden Mist crossed the perimeter, the guardian ninja reacted.
"AssASSINS!"
Water Release surged.
A roaring Water Trumpet blasted downward, buying time as alarms rang through the mansion. Hidden Mist answered instantly—water collided with water, compressed, amplified.
Lightning snapped through the flood.
The combined jutsu smashed through the attic, paralyzing the guardians before they could retreat.
Hidden Mist pressed in.
Blades flashed. Chakra surged. The remaining guardians and wandering ninja rushed in without hesitation.
Too late.
The Hidden Mist squads disengaged in perfect coordination, retreating while weaving seals.
Water Dragon Bullet.
Eight dragons rose, merging into a colossal torrent. The wind alone threw bodies aside. Weapons were driven into the ground just to stay upright.
"Great Village elites—!" someone shouted.
Four pillars of water erupted, sealing the battlefield.
When the walls collapsed, only ruins and corpses remained.
Deep within the mansion, Suikazan Fuguki watched calmly.
"So it's Hidden Mist," he confirmed.
Kuriarare Kushimaru smiled thinly. "Then we proceed."
The trap was never meant to be elegant.
The Daimyo had abandoned the mansion, baited Hidden Mist into acting, and filled the shadows with his own people. He didn't need survivors—only proof.
Once the nobles learned that organized Hidden Mist Anbu had slaughtered guards inside the capital, the balance of power would tilt. Hidden Mist would be forced to bend.
Before Kushimaru could finish speaking, more than thirty ninja surged from concealment, crashing into the Hidden Mist squads. The mansion descended into open warfare.
Kushimaru licked his lips. "Our people won't win cleanly. Should we intervene?"
"No," Fuguki said flatly.
This wasn't their battlefield.
If they revealed themselves now, they would become expendable. Pawns discarded once the purpose was served.
Reluctantly, Kushimaru restrained himself.
"Tomorrow," he muttered, "I want a hundred prisoners."
"Take them from the cells," Fuguki replied without looking back.
The Root operatives noticed immediately.
Hidden Mist. Daimyo forces. Chaos everywhere.
Perfect cover.
They accelerated, abandoning caution, slipping deeper toward the treasury.
From the rooftops, Danzo observed the disorder with a rare smile.
"Let Hidden Mist take the blame."
He believed—genuinely—that fate itself was favoring him.
"Six unidentified chakra signatures approaching," a Hidden Mist Anbu reported.
Straight toward the treasury.
Kushimaru's expression sharpened. "Not ours."
Fuguki drew his blade. "Then we act."
Whether they were discovered or about to lose everything, hesitation was no longer an option.
"Kill them first. Then erase the rest."
Elsewhere, Biwa Jūzō frowned.
Something was wrong.
The chakra density inside the mansion surged beyond expectation.
Zabuza felt it too.
Dozens of signatures. Too many.
They looked at each other and moved at once.
Hidden Mist ninja were already fighting—and some of them were Zabuza's people.
Neither man hesitated.
They plunged into the chaos.
The moment they entered, opposing forces withdrew—but it was too late. Their chakra was unmistakable.
Before they could stabilize the field, a catastrophic Water Release detonated at the mansion's core.
A tidal wave swallowed half the estate.
Walls collapsed. Noble residences were torn apart. Civilians were caught in the flood.
Zabuza's blood ran cold.
That chakra—
Suikazan Fuguki.
The Daimyo had hidden a renegade inside his own home.
The restraint Hidden Mist had shown meant nothing now.
Hatred ignited.
They clashed without restraint.
Far away, beneath a calmer sky, Qian Renxue's group finally exhaled.
"That was insane," Jade Heavenheart muttered.
"Sleep deprivation does that," Gao Feng replied, flicking blood from his blade.
"Mission complete," Qian Renxue said evenly. "We rest."
They turned back—
And froze.
A monstrous chakra surge erupted from the capital.
Waves towered into the sky.
Ning Rongrong's eyes snapped open, Glazed Heart Eye activating instantly.
"Over sixty sources," she breathed. "Suikazan Fuguki and Kuriarare Kushimaru."
Silence.
Then excitement.
This was no accident.
This was a gift.