Ice-Sealed Puddle Pierces the Back of the Head, Scavenging Supplies Dispels Fear

Deep in the narrow underground passage, the air was damp and cold, clinging to the skin like a sponge that refused to be wrung dry. Once the sound of pursuing footsteps ceased, only the faint, trickling noise of water seeping into the crevices echoed through the darkness.

Another Anbu chunin came to a halt.

It wasn't because he had heard the commotion near the reservoir, but because the prey had nowhere left to run.

"Running? Why stop now?" The Anbu ninja twirled his short blade with a mocking smirk, the edge slicing through the humid air with a faint, low hum.

Before him stood a rough stone wall, covered in moss and nameless, slimy fungi. Haku sat huddled in the corner, her back pressed hard against the wall, her thin chest heaving violently. Her tattered kimono was soaked through, and sewage mixed with mud dripped down her calves. She looked like a fledgling bird that had fallen into an ice hole, shivering uncontrollably.

She had followed Mizuki Han's instructions, running all the way to this narrowest of dead ends. She hadn't looked back, nor had she made a sound. She had done it.

But as she stared at the blade flashing with cold light above her, the girl's eyes turned bloodshot. She bit her lower lip hard, forcing herself to remain silent. Brother Han had said: complete the mission; if it means death, then die.

"A remnant of the Mizuki Clan, and you don't even know how to beg for mercy?" The Anbu ninja snorted, seemingly disappointed by the prey's rigid reaction. He had originally intended to carve a few gashes into the girl and slowly savor her collapse—it was the only pastime he could find during these high-pressure cleanup missions.

He lifted his foot, his muddy combat boot stepping into a shallow puddle, preparing to take the final step to end this boring game of cat and mouse.

Now.

In the 0.01 seconds before the Anbu ninja's boot sole touched the surface, the stagnant, murky water underwent an incredible physical collapse.

Lurking in the shadows a few meters away, Mizuki Han flicked his pale index finger upward. The blood-colored ice crystal embedded in the back of Haku's neck became a perfect chakra relay station in that instant. Although they were seven or eight meters apart, wherever water existed, Han's will followed like a shadow.

The Anbu ninja's toe landed.

There was no expected splash, nor the solid sensation of stepping on ground. The sole of his foot made contact with a layer of ice so hard it was infuriating. The extreme cold instantly pierced through his waterproof boot, forcibly fusing the skin and muscle of his sole to the ice.

"Huh?!" The Anbu ninja's expression shifted abruptly. As a battle-hardened chunin, he had a keen intuition for environmental anomalies. This wasn't natural freezing! It was ninjutsu!

Without a second thought, he engaged his core muscles and twisted his wrist, intending to leap backward and create distance.

It was too late. Mizuki Han's calculations never left his prey even half a second of room for error. The principle of using three parts chakra was pushed to the extreme: restrict the opponent with minimal consumption and execute the kill with the most covert means.

Before the Anbu ninja's heel could leave the ground, a razor-sharp, transparent ice spike erupted without warning from the center of the palm-sized patch of ice. This spike didn't shoot straight up; it emerged at an incredibly treacherous, slanted angle.

Like a viper striking from its hole, it instantly tore through the sole of the boot and pierced the arch of his foot. Without losing momentum, it continued its brutal, unstoppable path, tearing through his Achilles tendon, calf, and the back of his knee!

The Anbu ninja's mouth flew open, but the excruciating pain blocked his nerve impulses; his vocal cords spasmed and went dead from the sheer intensity of his body's convulsions.

The ice spike underwent a second acceleration over the extremely short distance—a micro-manipulation Mizuki Han had mastered after fusing his genes. The tip, stained with blood and shredded flesh, carried the chill of absolute zero as it shattered the Anbu ninja's spine with thunderous force, finally piercing out from the brainstem at the base of his skull.

"Pfft—"

A very soft, muffled sound. A shard of ice, stained with red and white fluid, protruded an inch from the back of the Anbu ninja's head.

The chunin's eyes bulged, his eyeballs nearly popping from their sockets due to the sudden increase in intracranial pressure. The short blade in his hand fell limply, splashing into the cold puddle. His tall frame, like a tree hollowed out by insects, remained leaning forward before collapsing face-first less than half a meter from Haku, twitching twice before falling silent.

The blood didn't spray; the extreme low temperature had completely frozen the vessels around the wound the moment it pierced his flesh.

Haku's eyes widened as she stared at the lifeless corpse before her, her brain stalling for a full three seconds. It wasn't until a faint breeze brushed past that Mizuki Han's thin, indifferent back stood between her and the body.

"Well done." Han's voice remained hoarse, but to Haku, it felt more reassuring than any praise. The girl's taut nerves suddenly slackened, and she slumped to the ground, gasping for air.

Han didn't spare Haku even a glance. All his attention was focused on the corpse on the ground.

For someone suffering from a severe case of "insufficient firepower phobia," looting spoils was the most wonderful thing in the world; it eased the anxiety that had seeped into his very bones.

He crouched down, his movements practiced and brutal. First, he forcibly ripped the ninja tool pouch from the corpse's waist. Upon opening it, a flash of irrepressible brilliance danced in Han's otherwise stagnant pupils.

Seven Explosive Tags! Two smoke bombs! Plus three spare Kunai and a large roll of sharp steel wire!

In the Anbu, this configuration was considered the mark of a wealthy man. Han stuffed everything into his pockets, carefully smoothing out each Explosive Tag; these were his trump cards for playing by his own rules in this hell. This sense of security, built on stockpiled firepower, felt even better to him than blood flowing into his heart.

Next, he fished a small, waterproof bag from the corpse's inner pocket. Inside were several dark brown pills—Soldier Pills.

Without a moment's hesitation, Han popped a Soldier Pill into his mouth. The bitter taste dissolved instantly, and as he swallowed it with his saliva, a faint, long-lost warmth surged deep within his parched dantian; his chakra showed signs of recovery. Under the nourishment of the medicine, the stinging pain in his damaged lungs also eased slightly.

Tucking the remaining pills away, Han grabbed the high-grade steel short blade from the corpse's hand, weighed it twice, and tucked it into his back waistband. Only after confirming that not even a copper wire of value remained on the body did he straighten up.

He had killed two Anbu. While the looted supplies were a drop in the bucket, he at least had the capital to struggle. The more cards he held, the better his odds when facing a desperate situation.

"Brother Han..." Haku climbed up from the ground, rubbing her arms with her frozen, red hands, her voice as weak as a mosquito's. "Where... where are we going now?"

Han didn't answer immediately. His mind was rapidly calculating the next escape route and the cost-benefit ratio of a counter-kill. According to his predictions, if two Anbu went missing for a certain amount of time, it would immediately trigger the Mist Village's search-and-rescue mechanism. This time gap was, at best, fifteen minutes; at worst, half an hour.

He had to find a place to maximize the system's functions. The chakra within this chunin hadn't fully dissipated yet, and combined with the corpse from the reservoir earlier, he could use this to further raise his baseline strength.

"Back to where we were. The air here is stagnant." Han dropped the words and turned to step over the corpse. Just as his heel crossed the waist of the body:

"Beep—beep—beep—"

A faint, yet piercingly shrill buzzing sound suddenly emanated from the inside of the Anbu mask that Mizuki Han had just looted. The frequency was rapid, carrying an unquestionable urgency.

Han's body stiffened. With incredible speed, he turned, bent down, and pried up the mud-stained white fox mask.

Inside the mask, in the communication rune slot near the temple, the spell markings that should have been dim were now flashing with a blinding, scarlet light. And as the red light flickered, a high-concentration, suffocating scent of poison began to leak silently from the gaps in the ventilation duct!