Chapter 29

"You're courting death!" Demon roared as he charged forward, driving a fist straight at Saitama's face. Although the earlier slash had left only a shallow wound on his chest, Chidori Stream's paralysis had completely stiffened the surrounding muscles.

Rage had not clouded his mind. Demon still maintained seamless coordination with Shura.

The swarm surged behind him. Saitama's vision blurred, and Demon's fist was already before his face.

"Clang!" The blade struck his arm and somehow produced the sound of metal colliding. Saitama's sword was forcibly deflected, unable to harm Demon in the slightest.

Looking closely, Demon's arm was brownish-black and as hard as rock. That strike had only cut in a fraction before getting stuck, causing no real damage.

"Bzzz—" As he considered his next move, the swarm swept toward him like a tide.

"Crackle!" Chidori Stream instantly covered his entire body before spreading outward from Saitama.

"Crackle! Crackle!"

Insect corpses fell like rain, soon piling up around his feet.

"Bang!" The moment he was distracted, Demon's fists slammed heavily into his face.

Those rock-hard fists struck him viciously in the face. Saitama's teeth collided with his lips, and blood immediately spilled out.

"Pah!" He leaped back to evade Demon's pursuit, spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva as his gaze turned cold.

"Hmph!" Shura silently stood behind Demon, his eyes locked tightly onto Saitama.

They had always worked together flawlessly—Demon restrained their opponent head-on while Shura launched sneak attacks from the shadows.

Saitama held his sword across his chest, letting blood trail from the corner of his mouth as alarm bells rang in his mind.

This Demon seems to have cultivated some kind of Earth Release-like hardening technique. His body is even more troublesome than the ninjas of Sand Village. The other one is probably an insect controller from the Aburame Clan.

After their brief exchange, Saitama had only figured out that much. His opponents, however, had clearly already gathered intelligence on him. He pressed his lips together and swiftly calculated his next move.

"Whoosh!" Blue-white lightning darted through the forest.

"Boom!" Saitama kicked Demon squarely in the chest, then bent his knee and pushed off with the momentum.

"Bang!"

He shot into the air, his long blade wrapped in violent lightning.

"Whoosh!" He hurled the blade at Shura like a bolt of lightning, and it arrived in an instant.

"Crackle!" Ignoring Shura behind him, Saitama rapidly descended after throwing his sword.

"Die!"

Demon had long been poised to strike, his iron fist smashing toward Saitama in midair.

"Thud!" Saitama caught the heavy blow with both palms.

"Hiss—" He silently cursed himself for actually clashing head-on with this brute.

But his body, tempered by lightning, felt only a slight pressure. It was nowhere near its limit.

Borrowing the force of the collision, Saitama shot toward Shura like an arrow loosed from a bow.

That blade had been fast, but he knew perfectly well that it would be impossible to kill his enemy with that move alone.

Just as expected, the ninja sword wrapped in lightning pierced through Shura's body and buried itself deeply in the ground, but his opponent had already dispersed into a swarm of insects.

"Clang!" Saitama retrieved his blade with a backhand motion. Its edge drew several silver arcs beneath the moonlight as he retreated to a safe distance.

Shura's figure slowly emerged from the ground beside Demon. His fingertips brushed the wound on his shoulder—the mark Saitama had left behind. "Watch his speed," Shura said in a low voice. A muffled response came from beneath Demon's mask.

"Shadow Clone Jutsu!" Before the sound of his hand seals faded, another Saitama had already stepped out of the white smoke.

The instant the two figures moved in unison, Demon crushed forward like a war chariot. "You're courting death!" His heavy footsteps exposed the flaw in his technique—a steel-like body gained at the cost of speed.

The blood-red glow in Saitama's Sharingan flared. Lightning in his right hand tore through the night. "Chidori!" Amid the shriek of electric arcs, Demon's fist came roaring through the air.

"Crack!"

His muscles erupted with astonishing speed under chakra stimulation. At the instant lightning pierced his chest, Demon saw his own heart being pierced through.

The thunderous blast brought this brutal battle to an end.

On the other side, the clone suddenly turned toward the shadows beneath the trees—the Sharingan had caught the afterimage left by the Substitution Technique. "Troublesome..." Shura's voice trembled beneath his mask. His companion's instant defeat had utterly shattered his will to fight.

When Saitama's original body approached with lightning still crackling around him, Shura had already been driven into a desperate situation. "Any last words?" The blade and electric arcs reflected each other's light, illuminating the cold killing intent in the Sharingan.

"Haha, aren't you celebrating too soon? Saitama, your good days are almost over!"

"If you send trash like you again next time, I'll still cut them down one by one." Saitama half-lidded his eyes, a mocking curve on his lips.

Knowing he could not escape death, the Root ninja showed no fear. Death was nothing unusual to him.

"Bzzz—" The insects parasitizing his body sensed their host's will to die and immediately stirred. These venomous insects, nourished by human bodies, were destined to be buried alongside their master.

In an instant, the insect tide surged. Countless black beetles burrowed from the earth, trapping Saitama in the center of the insect formation.

The swarm spun rapidly into a black tornado, their sharp mandibles biting toward the figure at its center like a torrential downpour!

"Crackle!" Blinding lightning suddenly exploded, and insect corpses rained down.

A cold gleam flashed. The wall of insects split open, and Saitama leaped out of the encirclement.

The instant his toes touched the ground, he lunged before Shura. Under the latter's stunned gaze, his long blade pierced through Shura's heart.

"Someone will be joining you soon, Saitama..." The lips beneath Shura's mask curled up strangely as his unfocused pupils reflected his enemy's figure.

"Bang!" The Shadow Clone dispersed, leaving only two mutilated corpses amid the rotting leaves.

The battle deep in the dense forest had lasted no more than the time it took to drink a cup of tea. Back at camp, the snores still rumbled on. Saitama wiped the insect fluid splashed onto his forehead, licked the bleeding wound in his mouth, and walked back beneath the moonlight.

It had come suddenly and ended even faster. The price had been only a few mouthfuls of clotted blood, in exchange for corpses strewn across the ground.

The campfire crackled, its dancing flames illuminating the night watchman's profile.

"Did it go smoothly?" Hayaharu Shimo added a stick of firewood to the flames, his tone as familiar as if they were chatting about everyday matters.

Saitama sat cross-legged beside the fire. "Just a few rats."

"Did I wake you?"

"I got up to relieve myself and noticed you were gone. Then I happened to hear some movement." The client rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned, grass clippings clinging to his sleeve.

Amid the crackle of bursting sparks, Saitama suddenly spoke. "You used to be a ninja, didn't you?" From their first meeting, he had sensed the chakra flowing through the other man's meridians.

Hayaharu Shimo's bitter smile flickered in the firelight. "When I was young, I dreamed of becoming a ninja... unfortunately, I didn't have the talent." He rubbed the sword at his waist. "Now I'm nothing more than a swordsman." The night wind carried embers into the starry sky.

"Perhaps I lacked the aptitude to become a ninja, but I do have some talent in the martial path." Hayaharu Shimo spoke with emotion, as though he still had more to say.

"Go get some rest. Leave this to me." Saitama had no interest in continuing the conversation. To him, this was merely an ordinary commission. Once it was over, they would most likely never cross paths again. The world of ninjas was utterly different from that of ordinary people; even the powerful and wealthy could not cross that divide.

"Fair enough. I am tired." As Hayaharu Shimo rose, he instinctively tried to pat Saitama on the shoulder, but withdrew his hand beneath Saitama's calm gaze. A trace of awkwardness crossed his face.

After the client's carriage departed, Saitama stared at the dancing campfire and let out a long breath. Ever since becoming a ninja, he had increasingly felt the distance between himself and ordinary people. This shift in mindset had made even simple conversation difficult.

As the sparks crackled, he too rose and walked toward the carriage. He jumped onto its roof and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket Hayaharu Shimo had left behind. The winter night's chill unexpectedly filled him with a touch of reverence.

In the latter half of the night, only a few reckless wild beasts wandered into the camp. Before they could get close, Saitama's blade ended them, turning them into provisions for the following morning.

"Rustle!" The carriage curtain was abruptly lifted, and an energetic Hayaharu Shimo poked his head out. "Morning, Saitama!"

"Morning."

"What smells so good?" Hayaharu Shimo jumped down from the carriage and followed the aroma to the fire. The mustached servant and the others had long since risen and were grilling the beast meat hunted the night before.

"This is game hunted by the ninja, sir. It'll be ready to eat on the road," the mustached servant explained respectfully.

"Excellent! Tear off a leg for me to try first!" Hayaharu Shimo waved grandly, and the mustached servant immediately jogged over with a glistening roasted leg.

After devouring it heartily, Hayaharu Shimo patted his stomach, asked for a jug of wine, and leisurely took a few drinks. Saitama stood holding his sword, his eyes half-closed as he rested. Staying awake all night was no issue for him, but meditating with closed eyes was also a form of training.

"Set out once everything is packed!" Hayaharu Shimo ordered as he climbed into the carriage.

"We're finishing up now. We'll be ready to leave at once!"

Half an hour later, the convoy set off again with its packed supplies. The sky was brilliantly clear, and the scent of melting snow already carried the warmth of early spring.

Sitting cross-legged atop the carriage, Saitama placed his long sword beside him and closed his eyes to rest.

His perception of chakra was extremely sharp. He could sense any energy fluctuations within several hundred meters.

This talent meant he did not need to rely on his eyes to observe his surroundings, but it also had its limitations—if someone deliberately suppressed their chakra, they could evade his senses as though invisible.

Perhaps once his strength improved in the future, even those in hiding would have nowhere to run. But the current Saitama could not yet manage that.

"Snort—" The horses stopped, exhaling heavily through their nostrils. The convoy had reached the riverbank, and the servants began fetching water and replenishing supplies.

"Saitama?" Hayaharu Shimo's voice came from within the carriage.

"I'm here." Saitama grabbed his long sword and leaped onto the driver's seat, standing shoulder to shoulder with the mustached servant holding the reins.

"Where are we now? I don't know the roads around here."

Saitama shook his head. Although he had once traveled to the capital, he could not remember the terrain along the way.

"My lord, we have a map!" The mustached servant pulled out a rolled-up hide map from beneath his seat.

"Bring it here."

The two leaned in to look. Hayaharu Shimo's stubby fingers traced the leather map. "We should be here."

"This river is called Goddess River. Legend says it was formed where the Goddess of the Hare once passed," the mustached servant explained eagerly.

"Kaguya..." Saitama looked toward the river, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Once their supplies were replenished, the convoy set off again.

"According to the map, we've covered one-fifth of the journey," Shimo said, stroking his round chin.

Saitama leaped back onto the roof of the carriage, his blade reflecting the daylight.

When they reached a stretch of road between two mountains, Saitama's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Stop!" he barked, gripping his sword as his sharp gaze swept over the hills on both sides.

He sensed chakra fluctuations from the mountains flanking the road. There were many people, and they clearly meant harm. They were undoubtedly Hayaharu Shimo's enemies.

"Hahaha! General, what a coincidence to meet you here!"

Just as expected, the moment Saitama signaled the convoy to stop, a shout came from the mountains.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

A large group of men emerged from both slopes, all dressed in matching uniforms. At their head stood a warrior clad in crimson armor.

"Shimada!"

At that moment, Hayaharu Shimo also stepped out of the carriage and stood on the driver's seat.

His voice was filled with shock, as though he could scarcely believe the man before him had appeared here.

"Are you surprised, General? Never expected it to be me?" Shimada rubbed his chin, revealing a mocking smile.

Shimada was a burly man, far more muscular than Hayaharu Shimo, yet his face currently bore a contemptuous expression that did not suit his appearance.

"Have I ever wronged you?" Hayaharu Shimo's eyes were filled with confusion as he demanded sharply.

"You have indeed shown me immense kindness, my lord. But I want to become general. Those things don't conflict, do they?" Shimada shrugged indifferently.

"You laid an ambush here today to take my life?" Hayaharu Shimo's eyes gradually turned cold, his voice stiff.

"You showed me the kindness of recognizing my worth. If you surrender willingly, I guarantee I will not harm you in the slightest." Shimada smiled confidently. With so many subordinates at his side, victory was already in his grasp.

"So negotiations have failed?" Saitama leaped onto the carriage roof at the right moment, his voice cold.

"Hm? Who are you?" Shimada had long noticed the young man who had been standing atop the carriage.

"You don't need to know." Saitama shook his head, gently brushing his fingers over the ninja sword at his waist as he muttered softly.

"Since the general insists on resisting, don't blame your subordinate for being ruthless." Shimada's face darkened as he waved his hand.

"Kill them! No need to spare anyone!" The warriors on both sides drew their swords and charged toward the convoy.

Though the warriors of the ninja world were not as powerful as ninjas, they were still a force not to be underestimated.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Before Saitama could make a move, the sound of blades leaving their sheaths already rang in his ears.