The river and sky were one, without a speck of dust; a lone bright moon hung high in the heavens.
When Araki's sword emerged, it was like a second moon rising, so brilliant and pure that no one could bear to look directly at it.
A flash of azure sword light vanished in an instant, so fast it seemed like an illusionary flower in a dream, as though someone had thrown a flashbang.
Hikō and Shiroyama, who had wanted to seize the opportunity for a sneak attack, reopened the eyes they had half-closed against the blinding light, only to discover in horror—
Beginning three meters around Araki, countless bodies lay densely scattered, all severed at the waist, stretching into the darkness beyond sight.
Yes, severed at the waist.
Many of them had not completely died yet, but the overwhelming stench of blood and miserable, despairing wails made the place seem like an endless hell.
Araki had already sheathed his blade. Not a speck of dust stained him, and he did not even glance back at the results of his strike. With a faint smile, he looked at the two people who had suddenly frozen and asked softly, "Do you... have any other business with me?"
"No, none at all."
At that moment, Hikō remembered the terror of being instantly defeated by Araki's single move. He immediately shook his head like a rattle drum and hurriedly led the Iwagakure Ninja behind him away.
"Konoha?"
Seeing Hikō being so sensible, Araki's gaze shifted as he looked at Shiroyama with a half-smile.
Shiroyama clenched and unclenched the hand gripping his sword, countless thoughts running through his mind. In the end, he could only sigh despondently, sheath his sword, and step aside.
"We have no business either."
He was confident in his exceptional swordsmanship.