Hyūga Ming casually dropped the letter in his hand into the nearby brazier.
The paper twisted and curled in the flames before turning completely to ash.
It was a message from Biriru.
From beginning to end, it contained nothing but scolding—without a single piece of useful information.
"Tch. What kind of valuable intel could I even get from this place?" Ming clicked his tongue.
This sector faced the direction of Konoha, so naturally all the gathered information was Konoha-related.
Unless he was reassigned elsewhere, there was no way he could obtain intelligence that actually helped Konoha.
He watched the last remnants of the letter crumble into gray dust, then walked over to the window and looked down.
The city itself wasn't large. From the tallest structure, nearly half of it lay within his field of view.
Unlike Konoha, where nights were lit bright as day, this place sank into near-total darkness after sunset. Only a handful of scattered lights remained.
A light drizzle fell from the sky.
The streets were empty, silent—like a deserted city.
There was an inexplicable sense of sorrow in the air.
"So this is where the Second Shinobi World War will erupt."
The corner of Hyūga Ming's mouth lifted.
If history followed its original course, the Land of Rain would become the primary battlefield—and that would be his golden age for leveling up.
"Soon. Very soon."
Before the war fully broke out, he needed enough strength to protect himself.
War was the fastest way to gain experience—but it was also unimaginably dangerous.
"Gentlemen," Ming murmured softly,
"I crave your war."
Before Dawn, the Next Day
Before the sky had even begun to brighten, Kusamori led Hyūga Ming out of the city and deep into the mountains.
The two concealed themselves high in the trees.
Ming glanced down at the road below.
Fresh grass carpeted the mountain path, lush and untrampled. Aside from a few animal tracks, there were no signs of human activity.
"This is their only route?" Ming asked curiously.
Kusamori's expression was grave.
"This intel came directly from Lord Hanzo. It won't be wrong."
His eyes scanned the surroundings as he waited for the replacement squad to appear.
The city behind them would belong to Lord Hanzo—no one else.
"Can you be sure when they'll arrive?" Ming asked again.
He had already activated his Byakugan, but there wasn't a single chakra signature nearby.
Kusamori shot him an irritated look.
"It was written in the scroll I gave you yesterday. Didn't you read it properly?"
Ming awkwardly shifted his gaze away.
He'd checked the squad composition, sure—but the rest? Not really.
Seeing his reaction, Kusamori instantly understood.
Veins subtly bulged on his forehead.
So careless about a mission.
Ming didn't argue. Instead, he slid from the branch down to the tree trunk and hung there horizontally.
Tree-climbing and water-walking were basic skills he'd mastered long ago.
After all, his chakra control was… abnormal, even by shinobi standards.
"What are you doing?" Kusamori demanded in a low voice.
What if they arrived right now?
"Setting traps, obviously," Ming replied matter-of-factly.
He began winding steel wire around shuriken and flinging them in all directions. The wires snapped taut around nearby trees.
Next came explosive tags.
Ming leapt lightly between branches, slapping tags onto tree trunks and tension points, setting them to trigger on contact—each infused with a sliver of chakra.
Kusamori opened his mouth to say something… then slowly closed it again.
He could only stare as Ming efficiently wove a deadly web of traps.
…Wait.
Where did he get all these ninja tools?
Why did it feel like Ming carried more equipment than he, a chunin, did?
For the first time, a serious doubt surfaced in Kusamori's mind.
Is this guy really a Rain shinobi?
Ming kept his Byakugan active the entire time. In the monochrome world it created, subtle expressions were still visible.
He clearly caught the flicker of suspicion on Kusamori's face.
Landing on a tree, Ming drove a kunai into the trunk and turned back with a smile that meant nothing good.
Once all the traps were set, he calmly returned to their original hiding spot.
As if nothing had happened, he waited alongside Kusamori.
Silence fell between them.
Elsewhere, on the Forest Road
Akishima led his subordinates swiftly through the woods.
"Captain Akishima," a half-grown boy following close behind asked with curiosity,
"do you think there'll be fighting this time?"
Akishima glanced at him.
This boy was a promising talent personally favored by the Rain Village's leader, Shōzō.
One of Akishima's main tasks this trip was to escort him safely away from the village.
The Rain Village was no longer peaceful.
Hanzo's influence was growing stronger by the day.
Although bound by legitimacy and appearances, Hanzo couldn't openly rebel—but his subordinates had no such restraints.
Clashes between factions were becoming increasingly common.
Hanzo's side had fewer people, but every one of them was elite.
Shōzō's faction had numbers, but lacked quality.
"I doubt there'll be any fighting," Akishima said, shaking his head.
This was just a routine handover.
The so-called "violations" were merely an excuse—an excuse to remove these youths from the center of the storm.
And honestly, he couldn't imagine who would be foolish enough to attack them.
The boy sighed, muttering,
"This non-resistance policy really is terrible…"
Akishima pretended not to hear, but his heart felt heavy.
Out of fear of the Three Great Nations, Shōzō had chosen not to resist at all.
Enemies knocking on your doorstep, and your first response is surrender?
Even Akishima couldn't understand it.
That single decision had pushed countless shinobi toward Hanzo.
"Lord Shōzō…" Akishima sighed inwardly.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
The wind whistled past his ears.
The squad moved with minimal caution. If they encountered wandering ninja, they'd simply avoid them.
Not because they were weak—but because they feared those "wanderers" might actually be Konoha shinobi in disguise.
The great villages hadn't fully gone to war yet, but covert reconnaissance was already rampant.
In times like these, who could tell which wandering ninja were real, and which were fake?
If they guessed wrong, they might not survive the encounter.
Just as they were nearing their destination—
Akishima's expression changed drastically.
He raised his hand sharply, signaling.
"Something's wrong. Hide."
The genin behind him lit up with excitement, but obeyed instantly, dispersing into concealment.
Akishima halted on a tree branch, eyes locked on a nearby tree.
A kunai was embedded openly in one of the branches.
There were no signs of battle nearby.
So where did it come from?
As he cautiously scanned the surroundings—
"Help!!"
A sudden scream rang out.
Someone was yanked upside down into the air.
Akishima's eyes snapped toward the sound—steel wire was wrapped tightly around the victim's ankle.
"It's a trap!" Akishima roared.
"Fall back!!"
But the boy favored by the Rain's leader ignored him completely and rushed toward his trapped comrade.
"Retreat!!" Akishima shouted again, desperate.
The boy didn't listen.
And then—
BOOM!!!
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