Raizen had decided it was time to accelerate the feud between the two clans. The skirmishes became more frequent, each attack more daring than the last. Still, the defenses of the Baimu and Jinen clans tightened after successive losses, causing some of Raizen's strikes to fail.
Failures didn't matter—they only fanned the flames. In a single month, the two clans had clashed five or six times, each encounter escalating. What began as petty disputes between Genin now involved full-fledged Jōnin combat. The elders of both clans sensed something sinister behind these attacks—but even they couldn't suppress the boiling tensions. Patience had long worn thin. Old grudges, fresh provocations, and the accumulated stress of the last few months had pushed both sides past the breaking point. War was inevitable; the only question was timing.
Raizen grinned from the shadows. Tonight, he would be the spark to shatter whatever fragile peace remained.
Slipping into the Jinen compound as silently as smoke, he claimed another life—a lone Jinen ninja, head severed and left for the clan to discover. Yet when Raizen watched from his perch atop a circling owl, he noted that the Jinen clan didn't respond with the fury he expected. "Interesting… they're holding back," he muttered. That restraint only proved his point: the Jinen clan could no longer endure insults and attacks without breaking eventually.
Sure enough, the tension finally snapped. Raizen watched as the Jinen Jōnin gathered, silent and coiled like snakes, while their patriarch strode among the fallen, eyes cold and unblinking. A low growl rumbled from his throat:
"The Baimu clan provokes us endlessly. If we do not avenge this insult, what face do we have to hold in Uicheng?"
"Strike them down! Every last one of the Baimu!" came the clan's unified roar.
The patriarch raised a hand, and the ninjas hushed instantly. His voice cut through the room like a blade:
"Tonight, at five o'clock, we march on the Cypress clan. We will wipe them out completely."
"Yes, sir!" The room thundered with agreement.
Raizen's lips curved into a sharp smile. Perfect. A sneak attack by Jinen against Baimu could devastate the city, but not if he played it right. He needed both clans to bleed equally—and tonight, he would ensure it.
With a ripple of chakra, he vanished, reappearing in the sky above the Cypress clan. From there, he scribbled the warning on a small slip of paper, tied it to a kunai, and let it fall.
The patrolling ninjas were immediately alerted by the sound of the kunai hitting the ground. They retrieved it, read the note, and bolted to report to the patriarch. From his vantage, Raizen watched the Cypress clan mobilize. Shadows shifted in the dark, ninjas taking positions, waiting for the Jinen assault.
Time crawled. The clock finally struck five. From the south of Uicheng, the Jinen ninjas surged forward, moving with deadly precision. They struck the Cypress clan's eastern outposts, but the Baimu clan—alerted by Raizen's warning—was ready. The two forces collided violently, chakra flaring, shouts echoing, kunai slicing the early morning air.
Boom!
Explosions rattled Uicheng. Flames and smoke rose like unnatural fireworks, drawing the eyes of every resident awake at that hour. The city itself seemed to shudder. Anyone watching knew instantly: Uicheng was on fire.
And Raizen? He perched silently above it all, letting the chaos play out like a game board. Each explosion, each yell, each flash of chakra was another move toward his ultimate goal: the Amamiya clan standing over the ruins as the new masters of Uicheng.