"Hey, brat!"
The Monkey King did not continue the pursuit. Instead, he stood where he was, arms crossed over his chest, those golden eyes scrutinizing Shinichi, who was still catching his breath more than ten meters away.
"From now on, you may use ninjutsu."
The words caused Shinichi to pause slightly. During this nearly month-long, hellish special training, both sides had cast aside all fancy techniques, clashing solely through the purest taijutsu, raw strength, and resilience to blows.
The Monkey King had also stated clearly that only by first letting the body remember the essence of power could one speak of anything else.
And in such no-holds-barred sparring, it had truly sensed the extraordinary nature of the boy's physique.
That astonishing strength, recovery ability, and endurance were simply unlike those of an ordinary human.
Had Hiruzen not explicitly informed it earlier that this child was a civilian orphan, the Monkey King might even have suspected that he possessed some unknown Kekkei Genkai, or that he had ties to the Senju Clan, famed for their formidable vitality.
"Weren't you trying to create a nin-taijutsu of your own?" Seeing the look on Shinichi's face, the Monkey King explained, "As for the concrete practice of ninjutsu, I indeed have little to guide you on. Your human hand seals and ninjutsu are not the path of our clan."
It paused briefly before continuing, "But combining the power you already possess, allowing it to link together rapidly in real combat—so that they are no longer separate taijutsu and ninjutsu, but instead become a single whole as natural as breathing… that process may perhaps be forced out in battle."
Its meaning was clear: in the next round of sparring, Shinichi could freely employ the ninjutsu he had mastered.
The goal was no longer merely to endure or evade, but under the immense pressure brought by the Monkey King, to attempt to truly connect the release, restraint, and cover of ninjutsu with the movement, entry, and timing of explosive force in taijutsu—seeking that feeling of fusion into one, and laying the most primitive foundation in real combat for his future conception of "nin-taijutsu."
"Come." The Monkey King's voice was low and filled with absolute confidence. "Attack with the resolve to kill me. Do not worry about injuring me. In today's shinobi world, nothing exists that can wound me."
…
Some time later.
The training ground was even more chaotic than before. Scorch marks from Fire Release lay everywhere, along with fresh craters, showing that the battle had entered a new phase.
In an incomparably piercing, energy-laden whine, that deep-blue chakra sphere—the Rasengan—was driven forward by Shinichi, who seized a fleeting opening and slammed it viciously toward the Monkey King.
The Monkey King's reaction was lightning-fast. At the critical instant, it raised its right palm and braced against the high-speed spinning energy sphere, which contained a terrifying penetrating force. Yet what the sphere carried was not only that razor-sharp penetration, but also a kind of dense, heavy, enormous strength.
Under the impact of that power, even the Monkey King's mountain-like, stalwart body could not remain fully steady. It was forced to slide backward, both feet sinking deep into the ground and plowing out two trenches, only completely halting its retreat seven or eight meters away.
Dust and smoke lifted faintly.
The Monkey King raised its eyes, looking toward the black-haired youth not far away, who was breathing rapidly and had clearly expended an enormous amount. Then its gaze dropped, fixing on the right palm with which it had caught the Rasengan.
At the center of the palm, a large piece of the hard fur—normally difficult to damage even with blades—had been torn open. The tough skin beneath had already split, and a thread of dark-red blood slowly seeped out.
It stared at that trace of blood, falling into silence.
"Monkey King-senpai, are you… alright?" Shinichi asked as he steadied his breathing.
In the battle just now, he had almost exhausted everything he had, interweaving and coordinating multiple ninjutsu to create openings, and only then had he finally traded for this chance to strike in close—forcing the Monkey King to take, head-on, a Rasengan he had poured his full strength into.
The Monkey King's body enjoyed the celebrated reputation of being "indestructible as diamond," but it was not, in the literal sense, an existence that absolutely could not be destroyed. In the original future, its palm had once been cut open by the Kusanagi Sword controlled by Orochimaru.
Speaking of indestructibility as diamond, that brings up another unique gift of the Monkey Clan—form transformation.
They can, according to the needs of the situation, carry out a complete weaponization conversion of their own bodies, freely transforming into a form known as the "Adamantine Staff."
Once converted into this unique weapon form, their hardness and strength undergo a qualitative leap.
Not only can they clash head-on with divine weapons like the Kusanagi Sword without suffering the slightest damage, they can also send the rampaging Nine-Tails Demon Fox flying out of Konoha with a single blow of the staff.
And even during the Fourth Shinobi World War, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had once relied on it in this form to crush the Ten-Tails' densely packed Wood Release attacks in one go, successfully saving Uzumaki Naruto.
Perhaps only in this "Adamantine Staff" form did the Monkey King truly deserve the three words "indestructible as diamond."
By contrast, in its ordinary ape form, "steel sinews and iron bones" might be a more fitting description.
In this form, it could ignore the bombardment of the vast majority of conventional ninjutsu and taijutsu—its defensive power was terrifying.
However, if faced with some exceptionally powerful ninjutsu attacks, or with divine weapons and sharp treasures like the Kusanagi Sword, this formidable body still carried the possibility of being breached and injured.
"Very good…"
The Monkey King's low voice broke the silence. It flicked its hand, and blood spattered onto the ground. "Not bad."
Perhaps feeling somewhat embarrassed that its earlier assertion of being "impossible to injure" had just been disproven, there was a hint of awkwardness in its tone.
"This round of training will end here for now," the Monkey King said.
The moment the words fell, without waiting for Shinichi to respond in any way, its massive body went bang and turned into a thick cloud of white smoke, vanishing from where it stood in an instant.
At the center of the training ground, only a more thoroughly ravaged stretch of earth remained, along with fallen trees and… at the very spot where the Monkey King had stood, several dark-red bloodstains scattered across the dust and rubble, not yet fully dried, standing out with particular starkness.
Seeing this, Shinichi's gaze lingered briefly on the blood on the ground, his eyes shifting slightly.
But he did nothing. Instead, as he had after every previous high-intensity sparring session, he let out a long breath of turbid air tinged with exhaustion and heat.
Then, without a word, he began to tidy up the chaotic training field—gathering the broken timber, roughly filling in the most conspicuous craters. Everything appeared no different from usual.
...
One month later, southern border of the Land of Iron, Tetsu Town.
This border town, adjacent to the Land of Fire, was renowned for its mineral resources and forging industry. The air carried year-round a faint scent of metal and charcoal.
Inside an izakaya in town called "Sakurami-tei," it was now the height of liveliness.
The noren hung low, unable to block the rising heat and clamor within.
Rough earthenware cups clinked together. People dressed in various dōfuku or traveling attire sat around low tables—mostly rōnin, merchants, and local craftsmen. The air was thick with the salty fragrance of sake, grilled fish, and soy sauce.
They talked of recent ore prices, stories from the border patrol, or which workshop had secured a large order.
Boisterous laughter and bragging rose and fell in waves, creating a din.
Just then, the tavern's heavy wooden door creaked open with a squeak, letting in a gust of cold air from outside.
A tall figure stood in the doorway against the light. After a brief moment of silence, a clear voice—carrying undisguised eagerness and brimming confidence—cut through the noise inside and reached every ear distinctly: "Everyone, may I ask—"
"In this Tetsu Town, who is the strongest fighter?"
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