The Only Melody in the Desert

Asuma smiled and lowered his voice. "It's possible.

But since he didn't expose us, it means he doesn't want trouble for now.

People of the desert all have their own ways of surviving.

As long as we don't give ourselves away, he probably won't meddle."

"Let's hope so."

Aoba muttered, but his gaze involuntarily swept over their surroundings.

He always felt that something deep within the desert was watching them.

The sensation was like an invisible eye hidden amid the yellow sands and heat haze, ready to bare its fangs at any moment.

Night fell, and the caravan stopped to make camp.

A bonfire was lit on the sand, its flickering flames casting a warm glow.

Aoba sat beside the fire, slowly chewing on a piece of dry rations, though his eyes remained fixed on Bakher.

The middle-aged man was speaking quietly with several caravan members. Every so often, he looked up at the night sky, as though he could read something from the stars filling the heavens.

Asuma sat beside Aoba with a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Don't keep staring at him. You'll make him suspicious."

Aoba withdrew his gaze and said quietly, "I keep feeling that this guy isn't simple.

Look at his movements, his gait, even the way he speaks—none of it resembles an ordinary merchant.

Could he be a Sunagakure spy?"

Asuma exhaled a cloud of smoke and narrowed his eyes. "A spy? Doesn't seem like it.

Sunagakure ninja aren't that conspicuous. Bakher... he's more like an old hand who's weathered countless storms.

His Chakra fluctuations are extremely faint, almost impossible to detect. But that only means he hides himself well."

"So what do we do? Keep playing dumb?"

Aoba asked with a frown.

"Playing dumb is an art."

Asuma smiled and patted Aoba on