The ten-mile waterway was traversed in an instant. Soon, the group disembarked and vanished into the thick, white mist, their figures quickly swallowed by the haze.
Crossing the mountains on the outskirts and venturing inland, faint traces of villages began to emerge. However, the deeper they went into the island, the more serious Hidan's expression became. His face darkened, and his hand often reached for the triple-bladed scythe on his back. Every hair on his body seemed to stand on end. This feeling was all too familiar—eerily similar to the oppressive atmosphere of that cursed black room in the Jashin Cult.
The villages they passed were either deathly silent or echoed faintly with the clash of blades. Occasionally, a piercing scream would break through, or the muffled sound of metal slicing into flesh. All of this, shrouded in the seemingly impenetrable mist, created an atmosphere of unparalleled dread—bloody and eerie.
But this was nothing compared to the later "Blood Mist" era. That was the real hell on earth.
"Stop! Where do you think you're going, you thieves?"
Suddenly, a figure darted out from the roadside. The man was clad in blue, his physique robust. He wore the Kirigakure forehead protector and wielded a massive blade nearly two meters long. His face was devoid of facial hair, but it was riddled with pits and scars, as if seared by red-hot iron beads—like the visage of a vengeful ghost.
Fugaku Uchiha glanced around and whispered to the group, "We're surrounded."
"Stay calm. Don't misunderstand. Put away your blade. We are—"
"Shut up."
Before Maki could explain, the scar-faced man rudely interrupted, his tone brimming with aggression. He extended a finger, slowly pointing at each member of the envoy, before finally stopping at Hidan.
"You. Yes, you, the kid with the scythe. Do you know Renman Shimizu?"
Hidan removed his triple-bladed scythe, his eyes wary as he stared at the Kirigakure ninja. He raised his head and replied, "I do. I killed him."
"Hahahaha!"
The scar-faced man's laughter was as grating as a screeching owl.
"So it's true! I'd heard that my third senior brother died at the hands of a scythe-wielding brat from Sunagakure. The gods must be smiling on me today—I never thought I'd run into you here. Take this!"
With that, he leaped into the air, bringing his massive blade down toward Hidan.
Clang!
The one who blocked the blade was none other than Maki.
"Step aside. If you want to die, I don't mind adding another to my count."
"Please, calm down. We are—"
"Calm your mother... Hah!"
The scar-faced man swung his blade in a wild flurry, the steel flashing like a storm of silver. His speed and ferocity were so overwhelming that even Sakumo Hatake, a master of the blade, secretly marveled.
"This man's swordsmanship appears chaotic and unrefined, but it's actually a unique style. His attacks are as swift and relentless as a torrential storm. Coupled with the length of his blade, he keeps his opponent suppressed at all times. If the defender falters even slightly, they risk being torn apart by a flurry of strikes. I didn't expect Kirigakure to have such a skilled swordsman."
Sakumo discreetly placed his hand on his short blade, searching for an opening to intervene.
One wielded a long blade, the other a short one. One fought with reckless aggression, the other defended desperately. The clanging of blades filled the air like a downpour of rain. Maki's entire body was engulfed in a storm of flashing steel, and it seemed he could falter at any moment.
"What are you doing!"
Hidan, gripping his scythe upside-down, tried to rush forward to help, but Sakumo raised a hand to stop him.
"The fight is too intense. Jumping in recklessly will only make things worse."
"So we just stand here and watch?"
"Not yet. Wait for the right moment. Hmm! Fugaku!"
With a shout, Sakumo called out. Before the words had fully left his mouth, Fugaku Uchiha had already thrown a kunai toward the two combatants.
In the blink of an eye, the flying kunai intercepted the scar-faced man's blade mid-swing. With a sharp clang, the kunai was deflected, but the scar-faced man's momentum was momentarily halted. Maki seized the opportunity to retreat from the fight.
"Sharingan?"
The scar-faced man glanced at Fugaku Uchiha's eyes and immediately understood. This boy had used the Sharingan to predict his blade's trajectory.
Maki was already sweating, his breathing labored. He raised his short blade to inspect it. It wasn't the typical Damascus short blade used by Sunagakure ninja, but an ordinary steel blade. Now, it was riddled with nicks and dents, resembling a jagged saw. It was clearly no longer usable.
The scar-faced man, on the other hand, proudly displayed his massive blade, which remained unscathed. It was clearly no ordinary weapon.
"We are envoys from Konohagakure and Sunagakure, here to invite the Third Mizukage to the Five Kage Summit. Is this how Kirigakure treats its guests? Do you intend to declare war on Konoha and Suna?"
Taking advantage of the pause, Sakumo Hatake spoke sternly.
"Konoha? Suna? What of it? I—"
The scar-faced man was about to retort when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
"Oh? How rude of us. My apologies for the misunderstanding. Sairen, you're as impulsive as ever. Put your blade away and stop scaring our guests."
From the nearby woods emerged a tall figure, nearly two meters in height. Dressed in white, his Kirigakure forehead protector hung casually around his neck. His horse-like face was adorned with a long beard, and his narrow eyes exuded a calm and benevolent demeanor.
"Master!"
The scar-faced man immediately sheathed his blade and knelt respectfully.
"I am Yoake, the senior disciple of the Kirigakure Grandmaster. I must apologize for the recent disturbances. The village has been on high alert, and my junior here tends to act rashly. Please forgive us."
He bowed slightly, his demeanor polite and respectful.
"No harm done. May I ask if the esteemed Master could convey our message to the Mizukage? We need to deliver a letter and complete our mission."
Maki sheathed his damaged blade and bowed formally. As the senior disciple of the Grandmaster, Yoake held a position in Kirigakure comparable to that of a department head in Sunagakure.
"Ah, what unfortunate timing. The Third Mizukage has been gravely ill and in a coma for a long time. He has not been able to handle any affairs."
Yoake shook his head apologetically. After a moment's thought, he continued, "How about this? I will report to the Grandmaster and let him decide. In the meantime, please rest at the guesthouse. Tomorrow morning, I will escort you to meet the Grandmaster. Does that sound acceptable?"
Sakumo and Maki exchanged a glance and nodded in unison.
"We are grateful for your assistance, Master."
In the guesthouse of Kirigakure, Maki sat intently examining the nicks and dents on his short blade. His eyes were so focused that he didn't even blink, muttering softly to himself as if in a trance.
"I say, dear Minister Maki, stop staring at that broken blade of yours. When we get back to the village, I'll get you a new one.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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