The elites of the four clans arrived simultaneously around the outer perimeter of the Mizukage's residence's inner courtyard, their timing precise to the second.
From the signal being sent to the completion of the encirclement, exactly two incense sticks' worth of time had passed.
Mizunotsuki Shigure stopped at his assigned position, crouched down, and pressed his palm against the ground.
A layer of exceedingly thin frost spread from his palm, silently expanding along the ground, nearly invisible within the mist.
The frost crawled over the base of the walls, through cracks between the stone slabs, and across the sand patterns of the dry landscape garden, relaying the condition of the entire inner courtyard's ground back to his palm through faint vibrations in the ice.
There was only one person inside the courtyard.
Kutsuki Baidiao sat on the wooden veranda in the back courtyard. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat slow. He had noticed nothing unusual.
Mizunotsuki Shigure withdrew his hand and made a gesture behind him. The elites of the four clans vaulted over the walls at the same time.
Kutsuki Baidiao noticed something only when the frost touched the wooden veranda beneath his feet.
He opened his eyes.
The weight of the air had changed.
Eighteen years as Mizukage had honed his senses to the point where they were nearly instinctive.
The chakra density beyond the courtyard walls had increased far too much over the past few breaths.
"Damn it, who is it?"
He gritted his teeth, but he had no choice but to face it.
The people of the four clans had already closed in from all directions.
The Yuki Clan's white robes occupied the high ground to the east and south, their ice blades glimmering with a ghostly blue chill in the mist.
The Terumi Clan's dark