Precise Preparations at the Ninja Tool Shop and Tactical Planning for Explosive Tags

"Clang!"

Baishi's fingers tightened sharply around the Explosive Tags, the friction between his fingertips and the coarse paper producing a faint, crisp sound.

The whistling wind, the dense canopy of trees, and the eerie Yin Release chakra of the Wildcat collapsed in his mind like a shattered mirror.

The pungent smell of nitric acid mixed with moldy leather flooded back into his nostrils. Under the dim light, the puff of dry tobacco exhaled by the blind old man hadn't even fully dissipated in the air.

That "tracking mission" spanning several kilometers had been nothing more than a tactical simulation completed in a mere three seconds, performed by Baishi while standing at the counter of the black-market ninja tool shop, using max-level Lightning Release to stimulate his cerebral cortex!

Danzo's target isn't Minato; he's trying to force Minato into making a mistake, Baishi sneered silently behind his mask.

The logical loopholes in his simulation were instantly filled. Wildcat leaving the team wasn't to assassinate Minato—that would be suicide. Wildcat's true mission was to cut off the support route for Minato's squad! Danzo wanted to ensure that he, the "bait," would be torn to shreds by Iwagakure in Kikyo Valley, while simultaneously framing Minato for a command failure due to "delayed rescue."

What a ruthless chain of schemes.

"Kid, what are you spacing out for? The goods are all here. Money and goods exchanged," the blind old man tapped his pipe against the edge of the counter.

Baishi pulled his focus back. Instead of stuffing the Explosive Tags into his ninja pouch like an ordinary ninja, he began a precise tactical disassembly of the "explosive equivalent" he had just bought for three hundred thousand ryo.

He pulled out five Explosive Tags, folded them into specific angles along the edges of the cinnabar runes, connected them with a strand of ultra-thin, transparent chakra-conductive wire, and hid them in the left cuff of his black trench coat. This was to allow him to cast a fan-shaped fire net with one hand during the brief moment of stiffness if his hand seals were interrupted.

Next, he tightly attached ten more Explosive Tags to three spare substitution logs. He carefully camouflaged the surfaces with mud and crushed leaves before sliding them into the hidden pouch at his waist, where they were easiest to draw.

The Body Replacement Technique was never just an escape skill; in his eyes, it was the ultimate finishing move for point-blank detonation from a blind spot.

Finally, he tucked the three Soldier Pills, which emitted a strong, fishy, bitter odor, close to his body. Consuming these would forcibly extract the cell's life force, leading to organ failure, but when combined with his newly extracted, incomplete Uzumaki Clan constitution, he could exploit an incredibly perverse recovery time gap.

Thirty-one encounter models and seventeen sets of extreme counter-kill combos had already been simulated in his mind to the point of muscle memory.

No mindless head-on clashes, only cold-blooded, lethal calculations.

Confirming that all his equipment was armed to the teeth, Baishi clicked the pale "Owl" mask back onto his face.

"Creak—"

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the morning sun felt somewhat blinding. The morning mist on the streets of Konoha had already dispersed, and the noise of early-rising vendors and hurried civilians washed over him.

Baishi moved against the flow of the crowd, his pace as steady as a precisely calibrated machine. Every stride and the weight of every footfall were maintained in a perfect range that conserved the most energy.

There were twenty minutes left until the assembly at the main gate.

He passed through the bustling commercial street. According to his planned route, crossing the alley ahead would lead him straight to the main gate.

Just then, the rich aroma of tonkotsu broth drifted along the morning breeze, slipping through the ventilation holes of his mask.

Ichiraku Ramen.

The only sanctuary in Konoha that didn't talk about the Will of Fire, only about warmth and sustenance.

Baishi had no interest in such trivial sentimentality. He kept his eyes straight ahead, lowered his ANBU hood, and prepared to walk right past.

However, just as he passed the half-lifted curtain, his highly sensitive Lightning Release perception caught two extremely familiar chakra fluctuations.

One was warm and bright, yet carried a trace of imperceptible rigidity.

The other was manic and scorching, like magma suppressed at the bottom of a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.

Baishi's footsteps paused for a fraction of a second.

Behind the curtain, two people sat at the narrow counter.

Namikaze Minato, wearing a clean jonin vest, was trying to push a bowl of ramen topped with narutomaki toward the person beside him. Beside him, Uzumaki Kushina's vibrant red hair looked particularly striking in the morning light.

She wasn't even looking at the steaming food in front of her; her hands were gripping her chopsticks so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

"Kushina, eat something. Regarding last night... the Third Hokage has already suppressed the matter; he will be fine," Minato's voice was gentle, but his tone carried a trace of undisguised exhaustion and forbearance.

Kushina didn't respond. She was like a startled and highly alert leopard, her nerves stretched to the breaking point.

Baishi only glanced with his peripheral vision before immediately pulling his gaze away. He was an ANBU with the codename "Owl," and he had no reason to linger here.

He tightened his trench coat and quickened his pace.

But just as he was about to pass the narrow glass window of the ramen shop.

"Snap!"

The wooden chopsticks in Kushina's hand were suddenly snapped in two.

As if she had sensed a wavelength etched deep into her soul, she whipped her head around. Those bloodshot, paranoid eyes crossed the gap in the curtain and collided precisely with the cold, indifferent gaze behind Baishi's mask.

Separated by the thin morning mist, their gazes clashed violently in the air.

Minato noticed the intense emotional fluctuation of his fiancée, the smile on his lips vanished instantly, his right hand lunged toward the ninja tool pouch on his leg, and he turned to look out the window in the direction of Kushina's gaze.

Baishi's pupils contracted sharply.