After nearly two weeks of grueling training, Naruto's Wind Style: Rasenshuriken had begun to take shape. Gazing at the barely formed Wind Style: Rasengan in his hand, Naruto felt as if a jumble of emotions had been stirred up inside him.
The Wind Style: Rasengan was far smaller than the version he had imagined countless times. It sat quietly in Naruto's palm, looking rather small and helpless, like a seed that had lacked nourishment as it grew. It had struggled to sprout, but had never grown into a towering tree.
However, Naruto knew that this seemingly unimpressive Wind Style: Rasengan held enormous potential. He took a deep breath, gathered all his strength into his arm, and hurled it at a boulder nearly twice his height.
In an instant, the Wind Style: Rasengan shot out like an arrow loosed from a bow, tracing a faint arc through the air. The moment it struck the boulder, it was like a miniature disaster had struck. The boulder's surface seemed to be sliced by countless finely sharpened blades all at once, and clear cuts quickly spread outward from the Rasengan.
The cuts grew deeper and deeper. It was as if an invisible storm had swept through the boulder's interior, producing a dull series of cracking sounds. It seemed some mysterious force was mercilessly severing its inner veins, much like precisely cutting through the meridians in a human body.
"Though this Rasengan is much smaller than I expected, it really is a lot more powerful than an ordinary Rasengan." Naruto scratched his head, a naive smile on his face. It showed both his satisfaction with what he had accomplished and a hint of regret that it wasn't perfect.
Menma walked over with steady steps. His gaze fixed on the Wind Style: Rasengan in Naruto's hand,