Ignoring the Massacre, Haku's White Eyes Reveal Her True Colors

Four strands of killing intent, as tangible as blades, pierced through the thick blood-mist and shadows of the street corner, pinning themselves firmly onto Mizuki Han.

The temperature in this narrow alley plummeted sharply. It was the cold, clinical scrutiny of high-level ninja who viewed life as nothing more than dust. If Han had shown even the slightest instinctive muscle tension or a faint surge of chakra, the next second would have brought a torrential bombardment of ninjutsu.

At this absolute juncture of life and death, Mizuki Han's brain entered an inhumanly cold state. He pressed his hand firmly over Haku's small, terror-distorted face, pinning her frail body tightly against his chest.

No counterattack. No hand seals. Not a single superfluous movement.

He ruthlessly suppressed the combat instincts deep within his bone marrow, retracting the tiny sliver of chakra he had just recovered into the deepest corner of his dantian. He even mimicked the rapid, ragged breathing of a refugee suffering from tuberculosis.

"Two ants passing by. Kill them."

The Anbu member preparing to unleash a Water Wave gave a cold snort. Without breaking his hand seals, he simply flicked his wrist.

Swish!

A kunai glinting with cold light tore through the night sky, accompanied by a sharp, explosive burst of air, aiming straight for Mizuki Han's throat.

This strike was enough to test whether the target had any foundation as a ninja. An ordinary person wouldn't even be able to react, while a ninja would instinctively dodge.

The kunai magnified rapidly in his pupils. Han's nerves were screaming warnings, but his body, which should have been dodging, acted like frozen, withered wood; he merely flinched backward in a symbolic, terrified motion.

Because the retreat was so clumsy and slight, the edge of the kunai grazed his shoulder, slicing open a bloody wound. Warm blood surged out instantly, staining his filthy gray coat.

"Ah!" Han deliberately let out a shrill, off-key scream like a rat stepped on by its tail, falling heavily into the muddy puddle beside him, his entire body trembling violently like a sieve. His only remaining hand shielded Haku in his arms, perfectly portraying a crippled brother who had completely broken down while trying to protect his sister.

No dodge. No chakra armor. A true piece of trash.

"Tch, what a waste of effort. Just two noisy bugs." The Anbu who threw the kunai curled his lip and looked away, his eyes filled with disgust.

For efficient killing machines like them, wasting even a single unit of chakra on civilians at a time like this was an irresponsible act toward their mission.

However, in the tiny gap of distraction caused by these two "civilians," the prey trapped in the center of the intersection found her chance.

"Scorch Release: Extremely Steaming Murder!"

A flash of desperate madness crossed Pakura's blood-stained face. Ignoring the overdraw of chakra in her body, she bit the tip of her tongue and formed an incredibly complex series of hand seals with her hands, leaving afterimages in the air.

The moisture in the air was instantly drained away. Three dark orange fireballs, radiating terrifying heat, emerged from thin air around her as if they possessed life. The wood on the surrounding broken walls began to spontaneously combust before the fireballs even touched them.

"Not good! Retreat!"

The lead Anbu's expression changed drastically. That was the terrifying bloodline limit capable of instantly evaporating the moisture in a human body into a mummy. The four Anbu no longer cared about the two bugs in the corner; they erupted with chakra, rapidly pulling back while simultaneously deploying Water Release for defense.

The collision between Water Release and Scorch Release kicked up massive amounts of white steam in the center of the street. Accompanied by Pakura's desperate counterattack, the battlefield gradually shifted toward another street.

From start to finish, Mizuki Han remained slumped in the mud in a twisted posture. His right hand was welded to Haku's face like a branding iron, forbidding her from making a sound or watching this cruel scene.

[High-purity wind and fire dual-attribute bloodline reaction detected—Scorch Release user Pakura.]

[Aptitude rating: Extremely high.]

[If successfully assimilated, the host's Ice Release will undergo a mutation evolution of cold and heat dual poles. Mark as primary hunting target?]

The system's cold notification sounded abruptly in his mind.

Through his fingers, Han watched the red figure fighting amidst the fire and steam with cold eyes.

Cold and heat dual poles? Extremely high aptitude?

It was tempting. If he were in his prime, he would have acted like a viper lurking in the shadows, waiting for both sides to exhaust each other before moving in to harvest everyone.

But not now.

His left arm was already ruined, the wound in his lungs was seeping blood, and the chakra in his body was barely enough to perform even a basic Water Clone. To participate in a meat grinder where even a Jonin could fall at any moment for the sake of a high-yield gene?

That would be stupidity.

"No. Block all notifications regarding this target."

Han issued the command in his heart decisively. He felt no hesitation, nor did he feel a shred of so-called sympathy for Pakura's tragic resistance. This was the ninja world; every second, people were struggling to survive. Someone else being betrayed or slaughtered—what did that have to do with him?

He let go and pulled Haku, who was on the verge of suffocation, up from his arms.

"Did you see clearly?" Han's voice was very soft amidst the deafening roar of ninjutsu, yet every word was like a blade.

Haku gasped for air, her shoulders heaving. If Han hadn't covered her mouth earlier, her scream would have already turned them into two corpses on the ground.

"They want to kill her... just like they killed our clansmen..." Haku's voice was thick with tears.

"So what?" Han used his mud-covered right hand to grip Haku's chin, forcing her to look at him. "Are you going to rush up and save her? With those hands that can't even hold a kunai steady?"

Haku felt a chill run through her body under Han's ink-black gaze and shook her head desperately.

"Remember. In this godforsaken place, sympathy is a death warrant. If you can't even survive yourself, yet you pity others, that is arrogance. And arrogance leads to a quick death."

Han let go, stood up, and ignoring the fresh wound on his shoulder, gripped Haku's sleeve tightly once more.

On the distant street, Pakura's roars and the Anbu's sinister laughter faded into the distance. The cleansing in the blood-mist continued endlessly. Those survivors of bloodline limits dragged from their homes, those civilians wailing in despair—in Han's eyes, they were all valueless scenery.

He led Haku away, like a soulless walking corpse, continuing his trek toward the slums on the very edge of the village.

Rain began to fall, though he didn't know when it started. The cold rain washed away the bloodstains on the street, as well as the filth on his gray coat.

Half an hour later.

The buildings ahead became low and dilapidated. The air was no longer just the scent of blood, but a mixture of excrement, spoiled food, and moldy wood. There wasn't a single light in the narrow alleys, only the occasional greedy eyes flashing in the darkness like hungry wild dogs.

The slums. The final lawless zone of the Mist Village, and the last refuge for the scum, criminals, and desperate souls abandoned by the ninja village.

Mizuki Han stopped. He felt the several malicious gazes around them. Although he and Haku were dressed in rags, Haku's delicate face was a crime in this place.

Han's right hand slowly reached for the mud-stained ninja sword at his waist. Just as he prepared to move and clear out these reckless scumbags, a bone-chilling crunching sound suddenly drifted from the darkness ahead.

Crunch... crunch...

A corpse missing its lower half was suddenly dragged into the shadows by something.