Now the blade was broken and the smoke had dispersed, but the "eye" remained.
And that eye was already fixed on Chisen.
"Where are the Hamura clan people now?" the middle-aged man asked.
Helian smiled.
"Not far."
"Right here in the Allied Forces?"
"A few of them," Helian said. "A few more are farther back, beyond the lines. They don't enter the village or draw attention. What those people truly excel at isn't taking towns or charging enemy formations." He pressed a fingertip onto a small patch of empty ground in the southwestern corner of the sand table. "It's waiting."
The middle-aged man slowly exhaled.
"Waiting for Chisen to walk in on his own."
"Exactly."
Helian looked at the little wooden peg on the sand table, his voice so low it sounded as though he were speaking to someone.
"And he will."
After that morning, the atmosphere in the Allied Forces' camp changed visibly.
On the surface, it was even more subdued than the day before.
The news that the Jonin raiding team at Bluebird Ridge had been wiped out had not been widely announced, but Cloud Falcon and Wind Priest were hardly insignificant names in the Land of Lightning and Sunagakure. Anyone who wasn't blind only had to look at how few people had returned last night, then at Wind Priest being carried into the medical tent, half-covered in blood and unable even to hold a blade steadily, to know something had gone terribly wrong.
Even the Land of Lightning's Heavy Assault Unit made less noise than usual as they moved wooden posts through Main Lane.
Sunagakure's remaining squads no longer traded barbs as they had over the previous two days. They simply kept their heads down, repairing walls, moving crates, and changing shifts. When they occasionally spoke, their