Eight Trigrams Vacuum Palm: A Volley of Fire, and Gengetsu's Curiosity

Blood.

Warm, sticky blood carrying the scent of his clansmen slowly trickled down Hyuga Hiashi's back.

The wound was deep enough to expose bone, nearly cleaving through his shoulder blade. The agony leaped madly across his nerve endings like a red-hot branding iron.

The one who had attacked him was the cousin he had watched grow up since childhood. Now, that cousin's eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted into a savage grin as he regarded Hiashi as an irreconcilable enemy and once again assumed the starting stance of the Gentle Fist.

All around them was a living hell.

The Hyuga clansmen, who had once placed the greatest importance on decorum and discipline, now resembled a pack of rabid dogs locked inside an arena. With the hands they took pride in, they frenziedly tore at and attacked the companions closest to them.

Screams, cracking bones, and desperate wails mingled with the strange, fishy sweetness of the Giant Clam's mist, weaving a symphony of destruction.

Yet amid Hiashi's perception, all this chaos and pain seemed so distant.

Because at the very center of his vision, the crosshair formed from pure silver flames was so steady, so clear, so sacred!

It was like a needle that pinned down the sea, forcibly fixing itself within this topsy-turvy world of illusion and radiating unquestionable, absolute majesty.

[Direction: Northeast 37.5 degrees. Elevation: 15.2 degrees. Distance: 1,254 meters.]

[Target: Giant Clam (true body).]

Those cold coordinates were like an Oracle, branded onto his soul.

The Hokage, the man he revered as a God, was far away, looking down upon this battlefield of mortals through his eyes.

He did not need wails, pleas for mercy, or retreat.

He needed execution!

"Abandon all defense! Abandon all judgment!"

Ignoring the lethal palm strike coming at him again from