Clang! Clang! Clang!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Seeing several kunai and shuriken hurtling toward him, Chiba's expression changed abruptly. His hands flashed out from beneath his cloak, and two shuriken shot forth, instantly knocking aside three kunai and shuriken. Amid a series of metallic clangs and showers of sparks, five shuriken and kunai spun away and plunged into the ground at reversed angles.
Crack! Crack!
Then came two sounds like grinding stone. Amid the flying sparks, Chiba raised his right hand slightly. Using the momentum of his swinging arms, he lightly pinched with his fingers and caught the remaining three shuriken in his palm, his brow tightly furrowed.
Poisoned? In his eyes, the three shuriken between his fingers gleamed with a faint purple sheen under the sunlight. Clearly, they had been coated in poison.
That stirred Chiba's anger somewhat. Before they had even determined whether what he said was true, or interrogated him to confirm whether he really was Taki Chiba, they had already struck so viciously. Granted, desperate times called for desperate measures, but this was going too far.
The meaning of those poisoned shuriken was clear: whether he was the real Taki Chiba or a fake, they would attack him regardless. They did not care about his identity at all!
If the earlier attack had been a warning, perhaps intended to wound him so that he could be captured if he was an enemy, then these poisoned shuriken carried an entirely different meaning.
In that instant, his face turned cold.
As he raised his head, a trace of killing intent flashed in his eyes.
He had been missing for nearly half a month, neither seen alive nor found dead. Given the state of the place where he had fought his final battle, Chiba did not doubt that Konoha had