Chapter 18

Inside the tent, Saitama sat cross-legged. Several meters away stood a familiar figure—Uchiha Rin.

"You're really something, kid. You've only gone on two battlefield missions, and both times you were carried back for emergency treatment!" Uchiha Rin's expression was complicated. He paid special attention to this junior, not only because Saitama was a member of the Uchiha Guard, but because he had watched him grow up. Perhaps he was the most gifted ninja of the clan's next generation.

"I was indeed overconfident this time. My combat experience can't compare to those veterans', and one careless slip was all it took." Saitama sensed the concern in his words. If his body, tempered by Lightning Release, had not developed resistance to **, he likely would have died at the enemy's hands.

"Fortunately, Lord Orochimaru ordered the continued assault on the Sand ninja, leaving them no time to send troops to hunt us down." Saitama changed the subject, a trace of lingering fear flashing through his eyes.

"That was Adviser Shikaku's idea. He launched a feint two days before your mission ended, intending to tie down the Sand ninja's elite forces and create favorable conditions for your retreat." Uchiha Rin smiled. He held great respect for Shikaku, a ninja of exceptional intellect, and admired those who could establish themselves in the ninja world through wisdom alone.

Saitama nodded slightly and shifted into a more comfortable position.

Three days had passed since their return to camp. Every member of Saitama's team had made it safely back to the Konoha encampment. He had received treatment as soon as he arrived; the nonlethal ** in his body had quickly been cleared, and his other wounds had been properly treated. Neat bandages covered his entire body.

According to Moonlight Zhengye, of the more than twenty people who had set out, only seven returned on time. Aside from their three-man group, the other four came from different teams. Though he had prepared himself mentally, Saitama still felt a wave of sorrow at the outcome—perhaps because he himself had nearly died, or perhaps because, as fellow ninja, he could empathize.

"Rest for a few more days this time. Your injuries aren't light." Uchiha Rin's gaze passed over the bandages on Saitama's body, his black-and-white eyes calm and unreadable.

"Mm. I gained a great deal from this mission, so this is a good chance to digest what I've learned." Saitama smiled, resting his hands against his chest as he stared at his callused palms, roughened by years of gripping a blade.

"Fine. These are several ninjutsu scrolls from the clan. Study them while you have the time." Uchiha Rin took several scrolls from behind his back and tossed them to Saitama before turning to leave.

"Understood." Holding the scrolls, Saitama watched Uchiha Rin walk away, his fighting spirit rekindled.

During this mission, Saitama had risked trying out a self-created ninjutsu—the Lightning Release technique modeled after "Chidori." Though it resembled Kakashi Hatake's technique, gathering lightning in the palm, its power still fell somewhat short. With the situation so critical at the time, he had only been able to forcibly compress Lightning Release chakra through his strong chakra control.

Now that he had ample time, he could properly refine this "False Chidori." This hand-sign-free ninjutsu relied entirely on compression technique. If Saitama's body had not undergone repeated chakra activation, it would have been impossible for him to use it successfully.

Setting Uchiha Rin's scrolls aside for the moment, Saitama was in no hurry to learn new techniques. He lowered his head onto one hand, while the unhealed puncture wound in his back throbbed faintly.

His Sharingan remained at the two-tomoe state it had possessed when first awakened, but his mastery over it had reached a high level, allowing him to bring out one hundred percent of its combat effectiveness.

As for ninjutsu?

Saitama lightly tapped his cheek and fell into thought. He had not mastered many techniques, only the common Fire Release of the Uchiha clan and genjutsu, which he rarely used.

At present, Saitama's strongest method of attack was still swordsmanship. Since successfully mastering Lightning Release Chakra Mode, both his speed and explosive power had improved dramatically.

Having clarified his current situation, Saitama no longer let his thoughts wander. He decided to continue studying Lightning Release Chakra Mode and temper ** to a higher level. As for developing Lightning Release ninjutsu, he could gradually experiment based on techniques from his memories. There was no need to rush into creating anything new at this stage.

After straightening his clothes and putting away the scrolls, Saitama lifted the tent flap and stepped outside—his first time leaving the tent since returning to camp.

The Sand Village's fierce assaults over the past days had sharply increased casualties on both sides, and a heavier, more oppressive atmosphere than usual hung over the entire camp. Saitama knew that once this tension reached its breaking point, the decisive battle would erupt. At the moment, both Konoha and the Sand Village were secretly testing each other's limits while gathering strength for the final clash.

The war remained deadlocked. Seeing wounded men carried back on stretchers and body bags every day, Saitama's state of mind had continued to change. Ninja were living, breathing people, yet on the battlefield, they became cold machines of war.

After folding his blanket into a standard square and equipping all his gear, Saitama strode out of the medical tent. Now that his injuries had healed, it was time to return to the battlefield.

The sight outside left him slightly stunned—ready-to-deploy ninja had an unusual fighting spirit flickering in their eyes. Their former numbness had been replaced by a kind of burning anticipation. The change was especially obvious among ordinary ninja, as though what awaited them was not a battle of life and death, but a ceremony celebrating glory.

Turning right through the camp, Saitama headed toward his team's assembly point. Because he had distinguished himself in battle twice, the Hokage had exceptionally promoted him to chunin. Although many others had been promoted in the same batch, at only twelve years old, he possessed strength comparable to a jonin and had long become a legend in camp. Though cumbersome procedures temporarily delayed his promotion to jonin, in everyone's eyes, the boy was already no different from one.

"Saitama!" Saki called from the assembly point.

The boy nodded and smiled faintly. His silence was not arrogance; he simply did not know how to respond. But he had always held goodwill toward this companion who had faced life and death alongside him.

"I heard you got promoted to chunin?" Saki grinned and punched his shoulder. "You bastard, sooner or later you'll be wearing a jonin vest too!"

"I only received the appointment notice two days ago." Saitama was still wearing the casual clothes he preferred. He had put away the newly issued chunin uniform. The tight combat suit was practical, but it always made him feel restricted.

"At this rate, you'll meet the jonin standard soon enough." Saki scratched his head and spoke casually.

Saitama silently looked at his companion without replying.

"All the chunin will be assigned to the same unit." Saki sensed the mood growing a little heavy and turned to business. "We'll be fighting side by side from now on."

"Who's leading it?" Saitama glanced around. More than fifty chunin had gathered here. An ordinary jonin would probably have trouble commanding their respect.

"Someone from your Uchiha clan, named Rin." Saki tilted his head, recalling the details. "They say he's highly valued by the clan head and is incredibly strong."

"Rin?" Saitama raised an eyebrow slightly. He had long known this clansman was formidable, but he had not expected him to be entrusted with such an important command.

The conversations around the field gradually faded. When that familiar figure appeared at the edge of the clearing, every voice fell silent.

Uchiha Rin walked steadily to the front of the formation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. "I'm your captain." His voice was calm and powerful. "We're responsible for breaking through on the right flank."

After a brief pre-battle address, Rin waved for the troops to move out. The newly formed unit followed its commander toward the designated battlefield.

The same scene was unfolding throughout the camp. Assault units led by elite jonin were assembling one after another and advancing toward the sandy battlefield five li away.

Inside the frontline command post, Orochimaru was discussing the battle situation with Shikaku Nara and other strategists. Konoha's most elite ninja stood ready here, quietly awaiting the coming war.

"Lord Orochimaru, this marker indicates our current position. This region is the designated combat zone where Konoha and the Sand Village's main forces are expected to clash." Shikaku Nara's fingertip slid over the rough map. The hastily sketched outlines of mountains and rivers looked like incomprehensible symbols to outsiders.

Orochimaru's gaze clung to the parchment, silent as a snake. Dark, unreadable mist churned in his amber vertical pupils.

"This battle may—"

"Leave the main force to me." Orochimaru's vocal cords rasped with a hissing tremor, his narrowed vertical pupils reflecting the crimson markings on the map. He rolled his shoulders and neck as though they were discussing no more than an afternoon stroll.

Choza Akimichi voiced a low objection from the shadows. "Even as one of the Sannin, facing several Kage-level ninja at once would still..." His broad palm pressed against the tactical scroll, the Ino-Shika-Cho clan emblems flickering in the candlelight.

"Isn't that precisely Konoha's situation now?" Orochimaru's gaze swept over everyone before finally pinning Shikaku Nara's lowered profile.

Shikaku's silence was heavier than any answer. The troop markers scattered across the map revealed Konoha's predicament—stretched thin on multiple fronts. The Sand Village battlefield was merely the first domino to fall.

"The jonin guard will face the enemy head-on with me." Orochimaru's breath seemed to freeze the air inside the tent. The killing intent that had lain dormant for so long finally tore through its disguise. The Sand Village's delaying tactics had long exhausted the last of his patience.

"Yes, sir!" Suppressed responses rose one after another. Amid the rustling of scrolls, the special operations group Saitama belonged to was sneaking along a dried riverbed.

A sudden rustling came from a pile of rotten leaves. Uchiha Rin revealed half his face from a camouflaged pit, the scarlet of his Sharingan appearing and vanishing among the shadows of the trees. "Remember, there are no glorious duels on the battlefield."

Saitama remained motionless in his ** stance, with only his eyelashes trembling faintly. "Understood." He knew all too well how insignificant individual bravery was before armies of thousands, just as he knew a fierce beast that fell into an ant swarm would eventually be reduced to bones.

On the frontline ravaged by wind and sand, Orochimaru's robes snapped wildly in the sandstorm.

Deep within the yellow haze, the Sand Village's puppet corps resembled a migrating swarm of desert ants. At their head, a ninja wearing the Kazekage's hat stood alone atop a sand dune.

Orochimaru's tongue swept over his cracked lips, his vertical pupils narrowing into two golden lines. His shadow stretched longer and longer beneath the setting sun, gradually blending with the serpentine shadows winding across the sand.

"The Sand Village's new leader only knows how to talk big?" Orochimaru's voice rasped like sandpaper, his scarlet vertical pupils locking onto the golden figure in the air.

The gold dust beneath Rasa's feet rippled as he looked down upon the Konoha ranks. "The Sannin's fame will likely end in this desert today."

The battlefield suddenly erupted.

Summoning: Manda Formation!

The instant white smoke exploded, purple scales tore through the haze, vertical pupils reflecting the yellow sand that filled the sky. Manda's hiss made the kunai of the Sand Village vanguard tremble in unison.

"Men of the Sand Village—" Rasa spread his arms, and gold dust condensed into a dazzling sun disk behind him. "Let the ninja world remember our names!"

The sea of sand began to flow.

Orochimaru's Kusanagi Sword glinted coldly as he stood atop Manda's reverse scale. "Two hundred living sacrifices."

"Deal." A forked tongue swept across fangs.

Just as the two torrents were about to collide, blinding white light suddenly erupted from the Konoha formation. Dozens of kunai wrapped in ** tags traced arcs through the air, weaving a net of death above the Sand Village vanguard.

"Lord Kazekage!" the newly appointed guard captain cried out.

Rasa's gold-dust wings had already spread. "Ignore the rabble. Our target is—"

Manda's venom and gold-dust spears tore through the air at the same time.

"I admire your courage, Orochimaru!" Rasa, who had only recently become the Fourth Kazekage, was in the prime of his life and showed no fear before this deeply experienced ninja. He confidently controlled gold dust as he maneuvered against Orochimaru, while four elite jonin guarded his sides.

Ninjutsu of every color exploded across the battlefield as Konoha and Sand Village elites fought in a chaotic melee. People constantly fell, but the intensity of the battle left no one with time to spare for anything else.

The area where the two powerful men fought became a barrier of its own. Orochimaru had only his summoned beast, Manda, while Rasa had the support of four jonin.

Manda suddenly charged, its gaping jaws lunging for Rasa's throat. Bang! A gold-dust barrier formed instantly, and the giant snake's fangs sank deeply into the sand wall.

"Hiss—" Manda angrily whipped its head, while Orochimaru stood quietly atop the snake's body, coldly observing the first exchange.

The yellow sand filling the sky made Manda increasingly frenzied. "You're courting death!" It swung its enormous tail, smashing through the sand wall before continuing toward the airborne Rasa. Another sand shield blocked the blow in time, and a scornful curve lifted Rasa's lips.

"You ignorant little brat!" Manda was thoroughly enraged. How could a summoned beast that had run rampant through the ninja world for years tolerate such provocation? It lunged again amid a foul wind, its venom glands beginning to secrete a deadly fluid.

Rasa calmly formed hand seals, and grains of sand throughout the desert rapidly gathered under his control. Rumble! A massive sand-iron fist slammed Manda viciously into the ground. Even Orochimaru showed surprise—this young Kazekage was far stronger than expected.

"Pah!" Manda spat out the sand in its mouth. When that immense force had struck it moments ago, its fangs had sunk deeply into the ground.