News of Taiichi's departure spread like wildfire.
Word that Konoha's "White Reaper" had left the Land of Hot Water in anger after his investigation yielded nothing and he was publicly rebuked by the Crown Prince traveled quickly through both official channels and certain hidden networks.
Outside the capital, in a quiet mountain forest, the very same Taiichi who had supposedly "stormed off" had already used Flying Thunder God to return.
A cold smile curved his lips. His perception spread like an invisible spiderweb, covering the entire capital.
He could clearly "feel" that not long after his departure, several discreet messages had been sent out from the daimyo's mansion.
"The fish are about to take the bait," Taiichi murmured. He formed a hand seal as chakra surged.
Shadow Clone Jutsu.
Several consecutive puffs of white smoke burst forth. Eight identical copies of Taiichi appeared around him, their eyes equally sharp and their presences equally restrained.
"Target areas: the northeastern mountains and all surrounding zones dense with hot spring caves, major roads, and remote villages. Stay high in the air as much as possible. Don't let anyone notice you.
If you detect any abnormal chakra fluctuations, gatherings of people, or suspicious activity, dispel immediately. Do not alert them."
Taiichi's voice was cold and clear.
"Understood!" the eight clones answered in unison. They turned into eight blurry afterimages and vanished into the depths of the forest like wind, racing toward their assigned directions.
Taiichi's main body stood up and gazed toward the capital, his eyes deep and calculating. From here on, it was a contest of patience. He would see who cracked first.
The golden cicada had shed its shell. The shadows had already hidden themselves.
An invisible net had quietly opened across the skies and lands of the Land of Hot Water.
---
After the "White Reaper's" angry departure, the capital seemed to fall into a strange, eerie calm. Yet beneath that calm, undercurrents surged.
Inside the daimyo's mansion, in the Second Prince's secret chamber, lamplight flickered. A barely suppressed smile played on his lips as his fingers tapped lightly against the table while he listened to his trusted subordinate's report.
"…My lord, it is confirmed. After leaving the daimyo's mansion, Matsushita Taiichi did not linger in the capital. He flew directly west at extremely high speed. Our watchers confirmed he has already left the country."
The black-clad subordinate knelt on one knee, his voice carrying a trace of relief.
"Hmph. The 'White Reaper'? Nothing special."
The Second Prince let out a scornful laugh and took a sip of wine. The cold liquid slid down his throat but did nothing to extinguish the ambition burning in his chest. "He got yelled at a few times by that idiot brother of mine and ran off with his tail between his legs. Konoha's reputation doesn't seem all that solid after all.
Pass down the order. Tell them they can breathe a little easier, but stay put for now. We'll observe for a few more days to make sure that calamity has truly left and isn't planning to pull some trick."
"Yes!" the subordinate replied and melted back into the shadows.
The Second Prince walked to the window and looked out at the capital shrouded in hot spring mist. Calculation gleamed in his eyes.
Taiichi's departure meant the greatest threat had been removed. Konoha wouldn't send anyone more troublesome anytime soon—they had already "completed their mission."
Next came cleaning up the loose ends, pressuring those lunatics to finally produce a real "immortal army," and even forcing that stubborn old man to step down.
Once he had power, his elder brother and all those old fossils who supported him would die.
He could already picture himself ascending the daimyo's throne, commanding an immortal army, and forcing the surrounding nations to bow before him.
---
Not long after, inside the Jashin cult's hidden base.
Cult Leader "Blood Raven" sat upon his stone throne, listening to the orders passed on by the Second Prince's subordinate. His face was hidden behind the crow mask, revealing nothing, but the crimson eyes beneath it burned with violent impatience.
"Wait a few more days? Heh—" Blood Raven's voice rasped like a night owl's cry, thick with mockery. "Our Second Prince has the courage of a mouse. Scared out of his wits by a mere name. Still, caution isn't a bad thing.
Tell those fools still moving around outside to keep their tails tucked between their legs for the next few days. If anyone ruins my plans, I'll flay them alive and offer their soul to my Lord!"
"Yes, Cult Leader!" a gray-robed cultist answered nervously and quickly retreated to pass on the order.
Blood Raven stood up irritably, his crimson robe billowing without wind.
He walked to the massive altar in the center. Layer upon layer of dried dark-red blood covered its surface, emitting a nauseating stench.
Beneath the altar was the entrance to a large incinerator, its fire long since extinguished.
Nearby, several emaciated, dull-eyed "sacrifices" were chained in a corner, letting out weak moans. These were the last remaining ones, and their condition was so poor they were almost worthless as "effective" offerings.
"Sacrifices…" Blood Raven muttered, a trace of anxiety slipping into his voice. Communicating with Jashin required souls filled with fear as both fuel and bridge.
He had originally planned to stockpile more before Taiichi arrived, but the other party had come too quickly and forced him to stop. Now their reserves were nearly gone.
He could only hope the remaining few would last a few more days. Otherwise—
---
Iwagakure – Land of Earth.
In a dimly lit civilian house, heavy curtains blocked most of the sunlight, leaving only a few struggling rays that cast blurry spots on the dusty floor.
Uchiha Obito leaned against the cold stone wall, his mask set aside, revealing a face torn by scars and filled with gloom.
His eyes were closed, but he was not resting. In his mind, the gentle smile of a girl from his dreams kept appearing—followed by the kunai that had pierced her chest.
"Rin…"
A low, pain-filled murmur filled with hatred echoed in the silent room. This bone-deep anguish and regret burned his soul at every moment.
Iwagakure—the place partly responsible for Rin's tragedy—had become a nightmare he could not escape.
With nothing else to do recently, he had hidden here like a venomous snake coiled in shadow, patiently licking his wounds over and over while studying the village, searching for any crack he could exploit.
Last time, he had used Mangekyo genjutsu to subtly influence one of Iwagakure's elders, planting the idea of encouraging Kitsuchi to suggest to Ōnoki that "for the village's future, it might be time to step down."
Unfortunately, that stubborn old man Ōnoki, though advanced in age, still possessed a fox-like political instinct.
Kitsuchi's probing suggestion had not caused any waves. Instead, Ōnoki had casually neutralized it and even used the opportunity to purge some of the village's opposition.
The plan had failed.
Still, a cold curve appeared at the corner of Obito's mouth.
It didn't matter. He had plenty of time. Plenty of patience.
Iwagakure's seemingly solid stone wall would eventually show a crack. He only needed to wait patiently—or create the next opportunity himself.
Rin's revenge required the blood of the entire village. Perhaps even its destruction.
At that moment, the floor in the corner of the room rippled silently, like water disturbed by a stone.
Zetsu, with his pitcher-plant head, emerged slowly and soundlessly from the ground like some strange plant growing from beneath the earth.
"Oh my, oh my. Reliving those unpleasant memories again, Obito?" White Zetsu greeted him in his usual playful tone, breaking the heavy silence.
Obito's gaze instantly turned sharp as a blade. He silently put his mask back on and spoke coldly. "If you have something to say, say it."
"Don't be so cold," White Zetsu laughed, swinging his half-body. "The rocks in Iwagakure are still too hard to chew for now. But I found a more interesting 'toy.' It might make a decent piece on our chessboard."
"A toy?" Obito's voice remained flat, clearly skeptical of whatever White Zetsu found "interesting."
"The Land of Hot Water," Black Zetsu's low, raspy voice cut in, suppressing White Zetsu's will as he began to explain. "There's an organization called the 'Jashin cult' conducting some… very interesting research in secret."
"Jashin cult?" Obito frowned slightly, unfamiliar with the name.
"A bunch of lunatics who worship some so-called 'evil god,'" White Zetsu continued, his tone filled with exaggerated amazement. "They use living people for curse experiments, trying to create 'immortal' warriors! Tsk tsk. What a crazy and bold idea!"
"Immortal?" A flicker of change finally appeared in Obito's eyes—not pure coldness anymore, but a trace of doubt mixed with curiosity.
The word struck something deep inside him. Rin's death was his eternal source of pain.
Immortal—if only—
He forced himself to suppress the absurd thought and kept his voice hard. "Ridiculous. There's no such thing as true immortality in the shinobi world."
"Hehe, don't jump to conclusions," White Zetsu shook his head. "According to the intel I gathered, they actually seem to have created something.
Most of them are failures—afraid of fire and decapitation, basically half-finished products—but they really do have regeneration far beyond normal people and complete numbness to pain.
More importantly, their experiments seem to have actually received a response from a 'god.'"
"A god?" Obito pressed.
"Yes." Black Zetsu nodded firmly. "The so-called 'evil god' they worship isn't entirely fictional.
It's something that existed in the shinobi world during ancient times—before the Sage of Six Paths, even earlier. They were once the rulers of this land and possessed power beyond ordinary humans. This so-called 'immortality' might be a lower manifestation of their strength.
Of course, after all these long years, they've long since declined. Only a few stragglers remain hidden in corners of the shinobi world, barely surviving through their followers' sacrifices. They're far from being true 'gods.'"
There was a faint trace of pride in Black Zetsu's tone as he spoke of these things, though Obito didn't notice it at the moment.
He was busy processing the information Zetsu had brought.
Ancient existences? Gods barely clinging to life? Experiments in immortality? These words combined to challenge everything he thought he knew.
"Gods barely clinging to life…"
Obito repeated Black Zetsu's words in a low voice, his tone complicated—mocking, yet carrying a trace of something even he didn't fully recognize.
"So things like that actually exist in this world."
"So," White Zetsu leaned in slightly, his voice tempting, "what do you think, Obito? This 'Jashin cult'—isn't it interesting? Their research is crude, but the results aren't bad. Weren't we looking to recruit more people?"
Obito's gaze moved away from Zetsu and returned to the window. It felt as if he could see straight through the thick stone walls and endless wind and sand, all the way to the distant Land of Hot Water.
After a moment of silence, Obito spoke, his voice cold and resolute. "Interesting. Go make contact with them, Zetsu. See what this so-called Jashin cult is really like—and whether they can be… used by me."
He slowly stood up and walked to the window, pulling the curtain open just a crack to let a sliver of the ochre world outside seep in. "A bunch of lunatics chasing immortality… Maybe they can stir up a stagnant pool."
The corners of Zetsu's mouth curved upward at the same time, revealing a knowing, eerie smile.
"Understood. I'll arrange it right away." White Zetsu's voice was light.
---
Northwestern Land of Hot Water – A small town that had prospered because of its hot springs.
During this period, Taiichi's main body had also stayed busy. He had disguised himself as a traveling young scholar, wearing simple cloth robes and carrying a plain pack as he blended into the bustling streets. He had completely suppressed his chakra presence, becoming like a drop of water merging into the sea.
Taiichi walked through the crowd, his sharp senses catching every sound and every clue around him.
He needed more grounded information—clues from the very bottom of society that might have been covered up by officials.
Outside one of the town's hot spring inns, a group of travelers who had just finished bathing were gathered together, speaking in low voices. Their faces carried traces of fear and mystery.
"…Did you hear? In Maple Leaf Village next door, they heard strange noises again a few nights ago! Sounded like something crying and howling. It was creepy!"
"Yeah, I heard that too! Someone even saw black shadows moving in the mountains behind the village—there one second, gone the next!"
"Sigh, ever since Moonview Village and Creekstone Village had those incidents, everyone's been on edge. The officials have investigated over and over and found nothing!"
"Shh! Keep your voice down! I heard… it wasn't humans who did it!" a skinny old man lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously. "It was divine punishment! Messengers serving the 'evil god' are selecting pure-souled believers!"
"'Evil god'? What's that?"
"I'm not entirely sure. It seems to be some very ancient and powerful god—one that can grant followers immortal power!"
The old man looked around cautiously, then carefully pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his robe. It had been crudely drawn with simple pigments. "Here, I picked this up secretly. It has the mark on it—"
Taiichi's footsteps carried him closer without drawing attention. His sharp gaze swept over the paper. The material was rough. Drawn on it in dark red pigment was a perfect circle containing an inverted triangle.
Beneath the symbol, crooked handwriting read: "Embrace the evil god, serve our Lord, offer your devotion, and obtain immortality."
A very faint trace of chakra lingered on it—carrying a seductive quality. But its fundamental nature was disturbingly familiar to Taiichi. It was the same violent, evil aura he had sensed at Moonview Village and the merchant caravan site.
"Jashin… Jashin cult. So that's it."
Taiichi suddenly understood.
The Jashin cult—it was them! And they were even spreading their faith among the common people, trying to win them over!
"Old man." Taiichi stepped forward with a gentle, harmless smile. "This 'evil god' you mentioned sounds quite mysterious. Could I take a look at that paper?"
The old man eyed Taiichi warily. Seeing that he was young and looked like a scholar, he hesitated for a moment before handing it over.
Taiichi took the paper and lightly brushed his fingers over the symbol. His perception instantly sank into it, confirming the residual chakra once more. At the same time, he erased the seductive influence within it.
Something like this couldn't be left around to harm people.