Hidden Killing Intent in Dripping Water, Insight into Patterns Locks Down the Corner

"Drip."

At the mouth of the limestone cave, Haku didn't even have time to tremble before the kunai in Han's hand precisely sliced across her delicate fingertip. A single bead of crimson blood welled up and rolled down.

Haku bit her lip hard, stifling a cry of pain.

Han curled his finger, catching the warm droplet in his palm. The last trace of chakra in his body flowed through his meridians, instantly freezing the blood into a tiny, faintly glowing red ice crystal. This was a micro-manipulation technique he had grasped after fusing with the high-purity genes just moments ago—by utilizing the unique chakra fluctuations of blood, he could create a miniature tracking coordinate that would last for several hours.

With a flick of his finger, the blood-red ice crystal traced an invisible arc through the darkness, silently adhering to the sole of the boot of the last Anbu operative, who was carrying a pair of swords.

"Wait for me here. No matter what sounds you hear, do not come out." Han lowered his voice, slipping into the sewage outside the cave like a viper merging with the night, sliding along the slick stalactites.

The sewage rose above his chest, but the bone-chilling temperature only served to sharpen his mind.

He closed his eyes, sensing the trajectory of the blood-red ice crystal.

Fifteen meters... twenty meters... thirty meters.

It stopped.

Han crept through the murky water like a piece of rotting wood, forcing his heart rate to its absolute minimum. With every stroke, he perfectly synchronized his movements with the ambient sound of the underground river, ensuring not a single unnecessary ripple was made.

After passing through a narrow section of rubble, the space ahead suddenly opened up.

This was a makeshift base converted from an abandoned underground reservoir. Three dim, windproof gas lamps hung from the stone walls, illuminating a relatively dry stone platform in the center.

Han hid behind a massive support pillar, exposing only his eyes above the water.

On the platform, besides the two Anbu operatives he had followed, there were five sealing scrolls and a crate of explosive tags. Without a doubt, this was a secret supply point established by the Anbu during their massive sweep of the underground sewage system.

Two Anbu operatives, both at the Chunin level.

One sat on a supply crate, wiping down his ninja blade; the other stood at the edge of the platform, his eyes scanning the surrounding water and the tunnel entrance with the vigilance of a hawk.

"These damn bloodline limit rats, they sure know how to hide," the Chunin cleaning his blade complained, sheathing his weapon with a sharp "click."

"Shut up. Elder Gen gave a kill order; if we don't finish the purge within three days, we'll all be punished," the sentry replied in a cold, sharp tone. "Stay alert, especially in this water. The remnants of the Mizuki Clan are masters of Water and Ice Release."

Han remained motionless in the water, the temperature causing his frost-covered wounds to throb with dull pain. But he did not rush to strike.

He needed information.

Drip.

At the top of the reservoir, a sharp stalactite was slowly dripping water.

The droplet hit the puddle below, making a crisp sound.

Han began to count in his mind.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... fifteen seconds. Drip.

The dripping frequency was once every fifteen seconds.

The sentry turned every thirty seconds, his gaze sweeping over the entrance and lingering for three seconds; the Chunin cleaning his blade, though seated, kept his left hand loosely gripping a kunai attached to an explosive tag, his eyes occasionally darting toward the ventilation shaft above.

The light was dimmest at the front left, where the glow of the gas lamps intersected, creating a blind spot that lasted for half a second.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes.

Han had been soaking in the freezing sewage for a full half-hour, his limbs stiffening from the cold. Yet, the light in his eyes grew increasingly bright.

He had found the pattern.

Every time the third drop fell from the stalactite—at the forty-fifth second—the reflection on the water would flicker for an instant. The sentry's eyeballs would instinctively shift by fifteen degrees for exactly zero point two seconds.

It was a physiological instinct. During those zero point two seconds, his rear-left flank was completely blind.

This was the breakthrough point!

Under the water, Han slowly extended his right hand, condensing a thin, incredibly tough thread of ice at his fingertip.

One end was connected to his finger, while the other, masked by the flow of the water, extended bit by bit, silently, toward the perimeter of the supply point. He intended to turn this patch of water into his own personal meat grinder during that zero point two-second window of blindness.

Just then.

"Hmm?"

The sentry suddenly let out a sound of suspicion.

His gaze was locked firmly behind the support pillar where Han was hiding.

"There's something in the water," the Chunin said coldly, abruptly drawing the short blade from his back.

The seated Chunin also sprang up instantly, his hands weaving seals at high speed. His throat bulged, and a mass of high-temperature flame began to brew in his mouth.

Han's pupils contracted violently, his heart skipping a beat.

A large, mutated rat suddenly darted out from the water on the other side of the support pillar, scrambling frantically to escape into the distance.

"Damn it! Just a dead rat!" The Chunin preparing the Fire Release abruptly cut off his jutsu, cursing under his breath as the backlash of chakra caused him to cough violently.

Drip.

The forty-fifth second. The third droplet hit the puddle. The dim light of the gas lamps flickered sharply on the water's surface.

The sentry's gaze instinctively shifted by fifteen degrees.

In that zero point two-second blind spot.

Han finished his final preparations beneath the water, ten fingers interwoven with dense, transparent threads of ice.

The sentry Chunin grumbled as he turned back around, "Damn it, stay in this dump long enough and even a rat can give you a heart attack—"

The voice cut off abruptly.

The Chunin looked down sharply, only to discover that a transparent, cold-glinting wire had coiled around his ankle at some unknown moment.

At the other end of that wire, on the surface of the water, a pair of bone-chilling eyes slowly emerged.

Han tugged at his fingertips, and the ice threads snapped taut! The Chunin lost his balance and crashed into the pool. The massive splash made the other Chunin, who had been coughing, turn around in horror, only to see a face as cold and ruthless as an Asura rising from the water...

The gloomy underground tunnel opened up ahead, and a faint, yellowish halo bled from around the corner, illuminating the slick rock walls.

Mizuki Han's movements froze instantly; he became like a piece of driftwood submerged in the depths, leaving only his eyes exposed above the murky water. He pressed Haku, who was behind him, firmly in place with a look; the little girl had almost stopped breathing entirely.

Light meant people.

In this sunless underground labyrinth, people meant danger, and they also meant... resources.

Han's body glided slowly through the sewage, not stirring a single ripple. Like a primal predator, he closed in silently, tracking the scent left by his prey.

Passing through a narrow stretch of rubble, the sight before him caused his calm, stagnant eyes to shrink abruptly.

This was an abandoned underground cistern that had been artificially modified. Three storm lanterns hung on the stone walls, dispelling the surrounding darkness and exposing everything on the central stone platform.

Two ninjas wearing standard Mist Anbu masks.

Five sealing scrolls wrapped tightly in oilcloth.

And an open crate, inside of which were neatly stacked explosive tags!

Deep within Han's pupils, a flicker of burning greed flashed and vanished. It was his "insufficient firepower phobia," brought over from his previous life, screaming from the marrow of his bones. These supplies were enough to increase his sense of security tenfold in this desperate situation!

He had to have them.

But impulse is a devil, and Han was the wicked master who tamed devils. He did not act immediately, instead sinking deeper into the sewage, leaving only a nearly imperceptible gap to observe the movements on the platform.

Two Chunin.

This was his preliminary judgment based on the intensity of their chakra flow and their physical posture. One sat on the supply crate, meticulously wiping his ninja blade with a piece of deerskin; the other stood at the edge of the platform like a javelin, his gaze scanning every dark corner with the vigilance of a hawk.

"These damn Bloodline Limit rats, they sure know how to hide." The Chunin wiping his blade finally couldn't help but speak, his voice laced with impatience. He sheathed his blade with a click and complained, "This place is damp and stinking; I don't know how much longer we have to stay here."

"Shut up." The sentry Chunin's voice was cold and sharp, devoid of any emotion. "Elder Gen gave a death order. If the underground sweep isn't finished within three days, every team responsible will be punished. Keep your head in the game, especially in this water area. Intelligence indicates the remnants of the Mizuki Clan are most skilled in Water and Ice Release. Don't let us capsize in a gutter."

Han remained motionless in the water. The cold sewage continuously eroded the temperature of the thin layer of ice over his chest, and his forcibly sealed wounds sent waves of sharp, stinging pain, as if countless steel needles were churning his flesh.

Yet he felt nothing; his brain, like a high-precision computer, began to frantically collect and analyze data.

Drip.

At the top of the cistern, on a sharp stalactite, a murky drop of water slowly condensed, then fell, striking a shallow puddle below with a crisp, rhythmic sound.

Han began to count silently in his heart.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... fifteen seconds.

Drip.

The dripping frequency was constant at once every fifteen seconds.

The sentry Chunin turned around every thirty seconds, his gaze sweeping over the tunnel entrance where Han was hiding, lingering for three seconds. His vigilance was high, leaving almost no openings.

The Chunin wiping his blade, while seemingly relaxed, kept his left hand loosely gripping a kunai tied with an explosive tag, and every minute, he would nonchalantly glance at a dark ventilation shaft above.

This was a standard two-man defensive formation, covering each other's blind spots with complementary fields of vision.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Han had been soaking in the cold sewage for a full half-hour. His limbs were stiff with cold, and a sense of weakness washed over him in waves. Yet the light in his eyes did not dim; instead, it grew brighter.

He had found it!

The absolute blind spot, ignored by all ninjas, created by the environment and physiological instinct!

The key lay in that "drip" sound.

Every time the third drop fell from the stalactite at the top—that is, at the forty-fifth second—the reflection on the water surface would flicker for an instant due to the refraction of the lantern light.

At the moment the drop fell, the sentry Chunin's eyeballs would make an imperceptible movement, his gaze instinctively drawn by that flash of light, deviating from his fixed patrol route by about fifteen degrees.

This process lasted only 0.2 seconds.

In this 0.2-second absolute blind zone, his left rear—the shadow of the massive load-bearing pillar where Han was currently hiding—was completely invisible to him!

A hunter might only get one such opportunity in a lifetime.

And Han, through half an hour of extreme forbearance, had created this opportunity for himself.

Just then.

"Hm?" The sentry Chunin's throat suddenly emitted a sound of vigilant suspicion.

His gaze shot across the water, locking onto the area behind the pillar where Han was hiding!

"There's something in the water!" The Chunin's voice tightened instantly as he drew the short blade from his back and assumed a combat stance.

The seated chunin sprang up like a coiled spring, his hands weaving seals at blinding speed. His throat bulged as a mass of scorching chakra brewed rapidly within his mouth; he was clearly preparing to unleash a wide-range Fire Style jutsu for an indiscriminate attack!

Han's pupils constricted violently, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

Had he been discovered?

No, that wasn't it! His infiltration had been flawless; it was impossible for him to have been detected!

In a flash of lightning, a massive, three-headed mutant rat suddenly burst from the water behind the load-bearing pillar with a splash, letting out terrified squeaks as it scrambled frantically toward the dark tunnel in the distance.

"Damn it! Just a dead rat!" The chunin preparing the Fire Style cut his jutsu off abruptly, choking on the backlash of chakra and coughing violently, his face twisted with irritation.

The sentry also let out a sigh of relief, cursing, "Damn, stay in this hellhole long enough and you start jumping at shadows. Even a rat can give you a heart attack."

A false alarm.

But for Han, this was an intelligence probe worth its weight in gold.

He had confirmed two things: first, these two chunin were at a breaking point of high tension, making their judgment easily swayed by external factors. Second, their control over this area was not as absolute as they believed.

Drip.

Forty-five seconds.

The third droplet of water fell precisely from the tip of the stalactite.

A tiny vortex formed in the puddle, and the dim, yellow light flickered sharply across the water's surface.

The sentry's gaze, like a programmed machine, instinctively shifted by fifteen degrees.

A blind spot of 0.2 seconds had arrived!

Now!

Hidden beneath the sewage, the flames of "slaughter" finally ignited in Han's cold eyes.

He slowly reached out his hands, his ten fingers moving with imperceptible rhythm through the murky water.

Threads of chakra, thinner than a strand of hair and nearly invisible to the naked eye, extended from his fingertips, shielded by the water's buoyancy and the dark currents as they reached toward every calculated point around the stone platform.

The moment these chakra threads touched the cold, filthy water, they instantly solidified into tough, razor-sharp translucent ice wires.

He did not rush to attack, but instead, during this absolute "God's window" of time, patiently wove a web of death.

A lethal trap, tailor-made for the two prey before him!