The jungle ruins of Si Qo were a living furnace at midday.
The heat pressed down from above, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Sunlight filtered through the boughs, breaking into golden shards on the leaves. Humidity stuck to the skin, slick and stifling. Even in the shadows, it was hot.
The air buzzed with sounds… the steady drone of insects, far-off bird calls, and the movement of hidden animals in the undergrowth.
Somewhere far off, something large bellowed, its deep call making the tree leaves shake.
And through this green hell marched ninety-six men.
They walked single file along a path of ancient stone blocks, half covered by roots and moss. The stones were cracked, uneven, and wet, but clearly man-made. These represented the remnants of a civilization that once ruled over nature rather than yielding to it.
Khen-Zai, Princess Bu May-Lin's personal guard, walked with them in the middle of the group.
His dark armor, made of overlapping scales, glimmered like obsidian in the sun. He held his dragon-motif guandao ready. Sweat ran down his neck, soaking the cloth under the plates. The heat stayed relentless, slowly cooking him inside his armor, but he did not falter. He had faced worse for his princess before, and he would face anything for her, because he owed her more than his life.
With him were his guards… six men hand-picked by the princess herself.
They were hardened veterans, marked by scars and sun-darkened skin. Their armor was lighter than Khen-Zai's, built for speed and movement. Sweat and dirt streaked their faces as they watched the foliage for any sign of danger. They carried spears with blackened steel tips, short curved blades at their hips, and small, round shields on their backs.
Each man moved with the wary tension of someone who had seen too many deaths in too little time.
Behind the guards walked the magi, three robed figures whose presence seemed nearly unnatural in the wild chaos of the jungle. These men weren't merely magi... they had formerly been slaves sold at the Thousand Lantern Pavilion. Those who were aware of the truth called it the Ghosts and Blood Market. By the Yi Ti law, no man could be captured and sold as a slave, but the same law did not forbid someone from raising and selling their own slaves.
Their robes were dark indigo, embroidered with silver thread which gleamed even in the harsh light. Each carried a staff carved from pale wood, engraved with runes that gleamed softly.
Their faces… shrouded beneath wide hoods, but when they lifted their heads, their eyes looked dead and empty, yet still radiating softly with the residue of magi-kai ready for their sorcery.
They were the only reason the expedition still existed.
In front and behind the middle group, laborers trudged under the weight of crates, tools, ropes, and bags with provisions. Eighty-five men remained from the original set of two hundred. They were responsible not only for heavy lifting but also for uncovering chambers and entering them first.
These were men whose lives had been bought by the princess... criminals, debtors, deserters, and the desperate. Their families were promised wealth and security in exchange for their service. They wore simple tunics of cloth, leather harnesses, and wide-brimmed hats to shield their faces from the sun. Their bodies were lean, hardened by two moons of labor and fear. Their eyes seemed empty.
They had seen too much. In two moons, they had lost too many. Still, they marched, bound by a magical contract.
Khen‑Zai rubbed sweat from his brow and made himself focus. The trail ahead twisted between huge trees with trunks as wide as houses. Vines hung from the branches like snakes, some thick enough to hold a man. The air was redolent of moist soil, rotting leaves, and something sugary and heavy… the fragrance of flowers that only bloomed deep in the jungle.
A rustle to his left made the group freeze. He clenched his guandao tighter. The guards behind him tensed, lowering their spears.
A shadow glided between the trees. A faint growl rolled through the undergrowth, deep and rumbling.
The laborers turned pale with fear.
Khen‑Zai raised a hand, signaling silence. Everyone and the jungle seemed to catch its breath… in preparation.
Then, with a sudden burst of movement, a massive shape sprang from the foliage. It was a tiger… the size of a horse, its fur striped gold and black, its eyes burning with feral hunger. Its jaws opened wide, revealing fangs as long as daggers.
Before anyone could even react, the tiger jumped on two workers, ripping them apart under its claws. The men did not have a chance to produce their last screams... they died almost instantly, fear and confusion engraved on their faces.
The guards reacted a second later... their spears thrust forward... shields snapped up. Khen‑Zai stepped into the creature's path, his massive guandao flashing, falling on the beast's head.
But the tiger nimbly dodged, jumped back, and at the same time swiped its paw, the size of a man's head, at a nearby soldier, with a grinding sound like metal against metal. Its claws carved deep grooves into a metal shield. The guard holding it wobbled back, blood spraying from his arm.
Khen‑Zai ducked beneath the tiger's next strike, rolled across the stone path, and came up behind the beast. His guandao with its long reach slashed across its hind leg, cutting deep. Tiger roared… spinning toward him, but the guards pressed in, spears stabbing, driving it back.
The beast snarled, blood dripping from its wounds.
Then it turned and evaporated into the jungle with a crash of leaves. Silence returned.
The guards let out shaky breaths. The laborers trembled. One of the magi came forward and placed a glowing hand over the wounded guard's arm. The bleeding slowed, and the flesh began to knit together.
Khen-Zai sighed, looking at the two dead men. He stood up and looked at everyone. "We need to move..."
Everyone just picked up and moved on. Scenes like this had happened more times than anyone could count in the last two moons. By now, people were simply tired of being afraid.
And further they went, the more dangerous the jungle became.
The trees rose taller, their trunks twisting into strange shapes. The air grew thicker and heavier, as if the jungle were watching them. There were strange symbols on the stones under their feet… faded carvings of serpents, dragons, and winged figures.
And then, through a break in the foliage, Khen‑Zai saw it... a pyramid.
Its peak rose above the canopy, covered in foliage and moss… still unmistakably made by man's hands. The blocks were massive, made of white stone, each one carved with a smooth surface that reflected sunlight. Birds encircled above it, their calls reverberating through the jungle.
From what Khen-Zai had learned from his princess, this was a newly discovered area.
They spent a few days around the pyramid, searching for an entrance.
On the third day, a breathless man with eyes beaming with excitement ran to the area where Khen‑Zai and the guards' tents were. He was stopped by the guards.
Khen‑Zai, in his tent, sits in meditation... a man's voice calls out, reaching him... "Lord Khen‑Zai! We found an entrance. It's an underground passage, there is a chamber!"
He opened his eyes and thought, 'Finally, something.'
Exiting his tent, he looked at the excited man's face. "Lead the way..." At the same time, he motioned for one of the magi to follow.
The entrance to the underground passage was narrow, just wide enough for two men to walk side by side. Inside, the air was cool… a welcome relief from the heat… but it carried a faint metallic scent, like old blood.
Torches glimmered along the walls, casting moving shadows over the carvings. The symbols here were clearer and sharper, unmarred by time.
One carving depicted dragons soaring in the sky, men riding on them, wielding swords of fire.
Another carving depicted a creature with ten eyes... it looked like an octopus, but with ten tentacles. It was engaged with another creature that looked like a long snake with a dragon's head.
Khen-Zai shivered. He was not much of a reader, but he had been assigned to watch over the scholars who worked for the princess, and he had seen a creature like this snake in some of the old Yi Ti documents more than once.
As he moved through the corridor, every ten steps had a new carving. There was a depiction of harvesting, with men leaning toward the tree, their faces in some kind of prayer. At last, he stood before a depiction of a man or a creature, with his hands wide open, his head resembling a crown, and only this carving's eyes set with aquamarines.
They went down a flight of stone steps, the air getting colder with each step. The walls narrowed, and the ceiling dropped until they had to duck. The torches sputtered, and their flames grew dim.
Then the passage opened into a huge chamber. Khen-Zai stopped, unable to hide his awe.
The chamber was filled with treasure, piles of silver and gold coins from times long lost… jeweled statues with creatures… ornate weapons… chests overflowing with gems.
But Khen-Zai barely looked at the treasure. His eyes went to the far wall, where a row of doorways led deeper into the chambers. Beyond them, he saw boxes, scrolls, and stacks of old tablets.
His heart pounded. This was it.
He turned to the magi... "Prepare the cleansing spells... we do not know what curses linger here."
The magi nodded, and his staff began to glow softly, sending out slow pulses of white light.
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When they left Weir‑Grip, Erick told them everything straight away... exactly what to expect on this trip. The women understood immediately why they had been chosen over everyone else. They never hesitated. They had proven before that they didn't play fair. They always struck first when they weren't sure. As Erick once told them... punch first, ask questions later. And both of them followed that to the letter.
Half an hour from Ironpine, Erick stopped and performed the shadow clone jutsu. Three clones appeared, and he transformed them... one into Mora, one into Dalla, and one into his old‑man disguise. Mora and Dalla had seen this jutsu before and weren't surprised, but the first time the people of Weir‑Grip learned Erick could create copies of himself, it had caused a big shock.
The clones sat in their places on the wagon.
Erick and the real Mora and Dalla stepped off the road and took the forest path on foot. They increased chakra in their legs and, with a single swosh, the three of them disappeared... running through the woods at blistering speed no normal human eye could follow.
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Ironpine lay quiet beneath the warm afternoon sun, its wooden houses arranged in a loose crescent around the central well.
Curled lazily from cooking pits, smoke, and the scent of pine resin drifted through the air.
Children chased each other between drying racks of herbs, while hunters returned from the forest with rabbits and pheasants slung over their shoulders.
It was a simple place… alive... a settlement that had learned to survive by holding tightly to every scrap of peace it could find.
That peace shifted the moment someone spotted Strike.
Shout rose from the far end of the settlement… heads turned… people shaded their eyes with their hands, squinting toward the road. Even from a distance, Strike's massive form was unmistakable... a bronze‑coated giant of a horse pulling a wagon that looked almost too small for him.
The crowd began to gather long before the wagon reached the first house.
Villagers stepped out of their houses, travelers paused mid‑conversation, and families hurried toward the center of Ironpine. The closer Strike came, the more the murmurs grew.
Some people took a step back without meaning to... others stared with wide eyes... a few murmured prayers under their breath.
Strike was simply too large, too powerful, too unlike anything they had ever seen. Even those who had met him before felt that familiar fusion of awe and unease.
By the time the wagon rolled into the heart of Ironpine, a full crowd had formed.
The settlement elder, Old Harven, pushed his way forward with a broad smile. His beard was white and braided, his back slightly bent, but his eyes were bright with genuine warmth. He raised a hand in greeting, though he moved carefully when passing near Strike's flank... even he respected the horse's size.
"Welcome back, friends…" Harven says, smiling with his toothiest smile… "The gods smile upon Ironpine today."
The clones jumped down from the wagon with perfect timing. The old‑man clone bowed politely, his voice soft and steady.
"Elder Harven, thank you for greeting us personally… we are honored."
Harven laughed, waving a hand as if brushing away the formality. "Honored…? You've saved my life… and other folks' lives more than I can count. You're as welcome here as the spring rains."
A few Ironpine women stepped forward with baskets of bread and dried fruit, offering them to the Weir-Grip healers.
Children peeked from behind their mothers' skirts, staring at Strike with a mixture of fascination.
The clones accepted their gifts with gentle smiles.
The scene looked peaceful... warm and trusting.
But not everyone in the crowd was here for healing.
The agent's communication was subtle, for normal people, invisible.
A slight tilt of the chin... scratch at the jaw... hand brushing the belt twice... shift of weight from left foot to right.
To anyone else, these were meaningless gestures... to them, they were instructions.
Not now... too many people... wait for night... stick to the plan.
They had heard rumors about Weir‑Grip healers, but seeing them now... just an old man and two defenseless women... no warriors... no visible threat.
Their plan was crude and simple... wait for nightfall... set a house on fire to draw attention... use paralytic poison on the healers... take the wagon and the horse... disappear.
But what they didn't know was that three new faces had already slipped into Ironpine.
They entered quietly, blending with the flow of people seeking help. They didn't approach the wagon. They didn't draw attention. They simply watched.
Erick created a shadow clone before stepping into Ironpine, dismissing it instantly. The information was transferred to the three clones already in Ironpine, who continued their act without a single flaw.
Mora scanned the crowd with calm, sharp eyes, scrutinizing every detail.
Surprisingly… Mora was really good at the analytical framework. She didn't need Erick to point out the agents… she had already marked them… the way they stood too still, the way their eyes moved too much, the way they pretended to be part of the crowd but never truly blended in...
--------------
Corwyn let out a slow breath, the kind that carried more exhaustion than relief. Working with psychopaths was never easy, but working with these two... Alester and Thelric... was a special kind of torment. At one point, they had seriously entertained the idea of attacking the healers the moment they entered the settlement. Right there. In broad daylight. Surrounded by more than two hundred witnesses.
It had taken every ounce of persuasion from Corwyn and the other two silent agents to drag them back to the plan. They had managed it... barely... but the memory still made Corwyn's stomach twist.
Now, standing among the people of Ironpine, he felt something... something he couldn't name.
He looked around the settlement… trying to pinpoint what had changed… the houses were the same… the people were the same. The healers were doing exactly what the rumors said they did... smiling, gentle, already inside the barn, treating the sick one by one.
But the air was different. There was a shift, a change in the current. He could feel a pressure, and with it, the sense that he was being watched.
He tried to find the source, scanning faces, corners, rooftops, shadows... but no matter how subtle his observations, he couldn't locate who was watching him. That alone made his skin crawl.
He had survived this long by trusting his instincts, and right now, those instincts were screaming at him.
He thought about the mission... about the plan... about the rumors... the smiling healers, the strange horse, the way people spoke of them with almost reverent gratitude.
He thought about the old man and the two women who looked harmless.
His instincts urged him to run.
But he couldn't... if he fled now, the mission would change instantly... capture the healers would become capture Corwyn.
He knew how his organization worked... he knew what happened to assets who broke formation.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe. That was when he finally noticed it.
The air... it was thickening.
Not metaphorically... literally.
A faint haze creeping between the houses... soft distortion in the light... a familiar heaviness settling on his skin... it was the mist.
And he knew instantly it was not natural mist.
Something about all of this clicked in his brain instantly. He heard rumors of another kind of mist... his blood ran cold... that was the moment he understood... he was fucked.
---------------
Erick never intended to fight fair... that wasn't the dao of a shinobi... at least not the way he understood it.
So before eliminating the five agents, he and the women did what shinobi always did first... they observed.
They watched the men move through Ironpine, watched the way their balance shifted strangely when they walked, as if something weighted one arm more than the other. They noticed that two of the suspicious men kept brushing their sleeves, as if they were touching something hidden beneath the cloth. A device of some kind... that much was clear.
Erick turned a corner, out of sight, and in a single breath, his chakra surged, his hands blurring... Hiding in Mist Jutsu.
The mist rolled out instantly, thickening the air in a way that even trained eyes could not counter. The beauty... and terror... of this jutsu was simple... even when someone realized something was wrong, it was already too late to react.
Dalla focused on the two older men who always walked together.
Mora locked onto the two younger ones.
Erick chose the one whose on his map showed... an allegiance... to Citadel.
The others had ties to some nameless organization, but that one man wore his loyalty like a badge.
Mist spread fast… swallowing Ironpine in a pale shroud.
Panic erupted almost immediately… villagers grabbed their children… they shouted for their families… running into their homes… barricading their doors.
Within moments… visibility dropped to an arm's length.
That was when Erick's group moved.
Each of them carried ninja pouches filled with shuriken and kunai... David had been busy crafting more, and everyone had trained with them, copying Erick's techniques. Chakra sharpened everything... hearing, smell, reflexes.
A faint swish cut through the silence.
Dalla struck first... a barrage of shuriken sliced through the mist toward the two silent older agents. They had daggers ready, prepared for close combat... but they were not prepared for projectiles they couldn't see coming. Dalla emptied her entire supply in one burst. The two men collapsed before they even understood what hit them.
Mora preferred things close and personal.
She moved like a shadow, like a cat slipping in. Before attacking, she tossed a small stone to the side... a tiny distraction, but enough to make the younger agents turn their heads for a fraction of a second.
That was all she needed.
She slipped between them, striking them with her genin strength. Alester dropped instantly, his head blown off with a chakra-enhanced strike. Thelric spun around, startled, but a sudden impact to his stomach drove the air from his lungs and sent him to his knees, retching.
Thelric tried to raise his arm… he tried to activate whatever device he carried... but his hand felt strangely light. He looked down and realized he could no longer feel the limb at all. The mist hid the details, but the truth was simple... his arm was cut off faster than his mind could process.
Erick approached his own target from below... Underground Submarine Voyage Jutsu.
He moved through the earth as if it were water, positioning himself beneath the Citadel agent. He prepared to use Double Suicide Decapitation Jutsu, ready to drag the man to the ground in one swift motion.
But before he could strike, a shout tore through the mist... a voice... panicked, desperate.
"I surrender! I surrender!"