Chapter 30

Looking back, the attendants who had seemed like servants each held a single-edged sword, their eyes suddenly sharpening.

"Kill the traitors and defend Lord Hayaharu's honor!"

The leader shouted and charged first toward the enemies rushing down the slope.

The enemy outnumbered the guards four or five to one, yet these "servants" showed no fear in their eyes.

"My apologies for letting you witness this." Saitama stood atop the carriage and heard Hayaharu Shimo mutter.

"Politics have always been like this. Interests are the strongest bond."

As soon as Saitama finished speaking, Hayaharu Shimo's body trembled slightly. When he closed and reopened his eyes, they held a look of resignation.

"I once regarded Shimada as **. I have no sons, and I had even planned to pass my position to him in a few years. Who would have thought... Heh." Hayaharu Shimo's voice trembled, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white.

"They're here," Saitama murmured.

Bang! He stomped down hard and shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bow, jolting the carriage violently beneath his feet.

"I didn't expect you to be a ninja." The speaker wore leather armor and a Hidden Mist rogue ninja forehead protector. He held a long sword half the height of a man.

"A rogue ninja?" Saitama landed steadily before him.

"Hmph, brat, prepare to die!"

"Ninja Art: Hidden Mist Jutsu!" The rogue ninja swiftly formed hand seals, and dense white mist instantly enveloped the area.

"How do you want to die, Konoha ninja?" His voice came from every direction. Saitama stopped and focused his senses, remaining on guard.

He recognized this technique—Momochi Zabuza had once used it against Kakashi's team, using the thick fog to obscure their vision.

It was paired with the "Hidden Mist: Silent ** Technique," which could completely conceal one's presence, making it even harder for enemies to track their movements when their vision was impaired.

"Sharingan!" Saitama did not dare let down his guard. This rogue ninja was formidable and proficient in ** techniques. He had to go all out.

Whoosh! The long sword suddenly stabbed toward Saitama's chest. He retreated at high speed while drawing his blade to block it horizontally.

"Interesting!" The Mist ninja's voice rang out again, but Saitama still could not pinpoint his location.

"Will you protect yourself, or your client?" The man's voice carried a seductive edge.

"Hm?" Saitama spun around and raced toward where he remembered Hayaharu Shimo to be.

Soon, he sensed a familiar presence and swiftly landed beside Hayaharu Shimo.

"Stay where you are." Hayaharu Shimo jumped at Saitama's sudden appearance, but after recognizing him, he patted his chest and calmed down.

"This is Hidden Mist's ** technique, isn't it?" As he spoke, Hayaharu Shimo edged closer to Saitama. Saitama had no time to pay attention, concentrating fully on the surroundings.

Fear showed on Hayaharu Shimo's face as he quietly drew another half-step closer.

When the two were less than half a meter apart, a vicious glint flashed in Hayaharu Shimo's eyes. A kunai slipped from his sleeve.

Whoosh!

"Die!"

Splurt! A head rolled away, and Hayaharu Shimo's body fell to the ground.

"You think I'm an idiot?" Saitama turned back coldly, lightning still crackling around the ninja sword in his hand.

Hayaharu Shimo's ** turned into a puddle of water—it had only been the enemy's Water Clone.

"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!" Saitama had grown tired of this game of cat and mouse.

A gale roared from his mouth, instantly blowing away the surrounding mist.

"Oh?" The enemy appeared several meters away, black-purple chakra wrapped around his body.

"So that's the Silent ** Technique." Saitama remembered that Zabuza had used it as well.

Bang! Saitama burst forward, lunging straight at the enemy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the battle on the other side—Hayaharu Shimo and Shimada's ** flashed back and forth as they fought fiercely.

"How is this possible?!" Before the Mist ninja could process the destruction of his Water Clone, the dense fog around them suddenly vanished, fully exposing him.

"Bastard!" Seeing Saitama rush at him, the Mist ninja cursed and swung his sword to meet him. Since his ninjutsu had failed, he resolved to crush this arrogant youth with taijutsu.

Clang! ** collided, their faces only inches apart.

"Those eyes...!?" The Mist ninja's pupils contracted sharply.

Thud! Amid the dull impact of their colliding knee strikes, blinding lightning erupted around Saitama's body. He actually forced his way forward through the attack!

Clang! Crackle! Boom!

Sword light laced with electricity tore through the air, but relying on his seasoned experience, the Mist ninja repeatedly struck at joints and blind spots.

Ssh— The lightning blade carved a white streak through the air, and the Mist ninja seized the chance to lash out with a roundhouse kick at Saitama's opening!

"Hmph!" The lightning armor around Saitama flared violently, driving back the enemy's attack.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Saitama's blade became a blur, lightning condensing into translucent armor over his body. The Mist ninja's chestplate shattered, and blood sprayed out!

Tap, tap, tap! As Saitama pressed forward relentlessly, a net of blades completely enveloped the Mist ninja.

Splurt! The blade tip pierced his thigh, and a fountain of blood burst forth.

"Urgh—!" The Mist ninja's scream cut across the battlefield.

Crackle! As Saitama pulled out his sword, a surge of lightning followed. The Mist ninja's face twisted in agony.

Whoosh! A desperate slash from the dying man shot straight for his throat!

Blood-red light swirled in Saitama's Sharingan as he leaned back and retreated sharply.

"Damn it...!" The Mist ninja knelt on the ground, clutching his leg as blood spurted through his fingers.

(

His cold gaze lingered briefly on Saitama. His eyes darted about, clearly calculating an escape route, but his wounded body made it difficult for him to get away.

After looking around, the Mist ninja suddenly spotted an opportunity.

Clang! Half-kneeling from his leg injury, the Mist ninja drove his long sword into the ground and used it to push himself upright.

"Konoha ninja, I'll abandon this mission. How about you spare my life?" The enemy forced out a stiff smile, his tone ingratiating.

"You want to back out now? Too late!" Saitama paid him no heed and swung his blade at him again.

"You forced my hand!" Gritting his teeth, the enemy pulled several ** tags from his waist, wrapped them around kunai, and threw them at Saitama.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Saitama nimbly dodged the **, only to find that the enemy had neither attacked nor fled. Instead, he charged toward the carriage nearby.

Beside the carriage, the mustached steward was curled up at the front, trembling violently.

"Stop! Take another step and I'll kill him!" The Mist ninja seized the steward and roared hysterically.

Saitama stopped, watching the man's performance with cold eyes.

"Ha ha ha..." Seeing Saitama really stop, the Mist ninja laughed smugly.

"Let me go, and I'll spare his life." A sharp kunai pressed against the steward's throat. As the steward trembled, the blade tip pierced his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Uh... uh..." The steward was too terrified to speak, shaking all over.

"Oh? Any last words?" Saitama's tone was full of mockery.

"**!" The Mist ninja flew into a rage from humiliation and made as if to slit the steward's throat.

The instant the kunai plunged down, a blue-white figure flashed in with astonishing speed.

Clang!

The long sword precisely blocked the kunai, and Saitama followed up with a kick that sent the enemy flying.

Pff! The enemy spat out blood. Before he could react, Saitama had shoved the steward aside and pursued him again.

"Ha ha ha! Let's die together!" Driven into a corner, the rogue ninja frantically tore open his leather armor, revealing a body covered in ** tags. He used the last of his chakra to ignite them.

Hiss, hiss— A dangerous aura filled the air, and Saitama's expression changed abruptly.

"With this many ** tags, even I'd be meeting the Sage of Six Paths if I took it head-on." His thoughts raced as he twisted sharply, trying to evade.

"Trying to run?" The rogue ninja grinned viciously. The moment Saitama moved, he threw himself forward without hesitation and locked him in a death grip, even as Saitama's blade cut into his body.

"Damn it!" A violent Chidori Stream erupted around Saitama. Electricity surged through the enemy's body, making him convulse, but he still held Saitama tightly.

Boom! The ** tags detonated at once!

When the smoke cleared, only a massive charred crater remained in the ground. Burning scraps of cloth lay scattered around its edge, while Saitama's sword remained perfectly intact, embedded at an angle not far away.

"Saitama?" The mustached steward stood at a safe distance. The ** blast had not hurt him, though it had terrified him enough to make him collapse to the ground. At the last moment, he had seen the enemy cling desperately to Saitama, followed by the earthshaking **.

"Is he dead?" The mustached steward felt heavy-hearted. After all, Saitama had sacrificed himself to protect his lord.

Rustle— Suddenly, the sound of shifting earth came from the bottom of the crater. An arm burst through the soil.

"Hm?" Summoning his courage, the mustached steward crawled to the edge of the crater. At that moment, he was not worried in the slightest that the one crawling out would be the enemy.

Clang! Elsewhere, Hayaharu Shimo's fierce battle with the samurai Shimada was nearing its end.

Though Hayaharu Shimo had suffered injuries, Shimada's were far worse—a savage gash had been torn across his abdomen.

"Hah... hah..." Shimada saw Saitama perish alongside the rogue ninja, then saw his own samurai forces collapse. He knew defeat was certain.

"The general truly... always has heaven's favor... But this time... you will never be the winner!" Clutching his abdomen, he still gritted out a threat.

"You needn't concern yourself with that, Shimada."

"Saitama!" The mustached steward suddenly cried out.

"Whew—"

Saitama pushed aside the dirt covering him and struggled out of the crater, greedily gulping in fresh air.

"Being alive... feels great!" He fell onto his back, his body covered in horrifying wounds.

At the critical moment between life and death, unable to evade, Saitama unleashed every last bit of chakra and used his strongest technique, Lightning Release Chakra Mode. Solidified armor formed from lightning covered his entire body like true battle armor.

It was that desperate defense that kept him from being killed on the spot. Yet the force of the ** still shattered the lightning armor, and the aftershock left brutal wounds across his body.

Saitama used ninjutsu to dig a hole beneath his feet, hiding inside while the enemy died and the aftershock had yet to fade.

"Saitama, are you all right?" Seeing that it was Saitama crawling from the hole, the mustached steward hurried forward to help him up.

"Don't touch me. Let me lie here for a while!"

Saitama's voice was still strong, so the mustached steward withdrew his hand and stood to one side.

The corners of Hayaharu Shimo's mouth lifted slightly. "Looks like the ninja you hired failed."

"Hmph!" Shimada still maintained a fighting stance.

After resting for a moment, Saitama got up by himself. Though his external wounds looked gruesome, they were only burns and abrasions that had not damaged anything vital. The chakra in his body had also recovered to a safe level.

"Ptooey!" He spat out the dirt in his mouth and tore away what remained of his clothing, now little more than strips of cloth. The movement tugged at his wounds and made him suck in a sharp breath.

At the other end of the battlefield, most of Shimada's samurai had been wiped out by Hayaharu's dozen or so "servants." The rest knelt and raised their flags in surrender. These "servants" had lost only two men, displaying astonishing combat strength.

Shimada knelt in a pool of blood—not to beg for mercy, but because his severe injuries left him unable to stand. Blood from his abdomen soaked into the ground beneath his knees, and his face was as pale as paper.

"Saitama." Hayaharu Shimo nodded toward the ragged ninja. The mustached steward had already retrieved his sword, which now hung at his waist.

"Do it, General!" Shimada roared, his trembling hands braced against the ground. "I don't need your pity!"

A flash of steel passed, and his head fell to the ground. Hayaharu Shimo closed his eyes and steadied his breath. At last, the hand gripping his sword stopped trembling.

"Job's done, job's done!" Saitama dusted himself off, breaking the silence.

"Clear the battlefield and give the fallen a proper burial." Hayaharu Shimo looked around at his surviving subordinates. Few familiar faces remained.

"Yes, sir!" the "servants" answered solemnly.

Saitama took the chance to change into spare clothes—he was not used to baring his chest and back in public.

The convoy continued onward as night fell over the rugged mountain road. Under the moonlight, Saitama sat cross-legged atop the carriage, his sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings.

"Don't let your guard down. The enemy may still be hiding nearby." He had no interest in Hayaharu Shimo's ** struggle, focusing only on his own duty.

The wheels rolled over broken stones, kicking up clouds of dust. Too many souls had been buried in these mountains. Hopefully, in their next lives, they would find peace and never again endure bloodshed and turmoil.

"Thanks to you for taking care of that ninja." Holding the reins, Hayaharu Shimo turned to speak to the figure on the carriage roof. The mustached steward sat beside him as they drove the carriage together.

"It was my duty." Saitama's reply was brief, his eyes never leaving the distance.

The carriage noticeably picked up speed. Hayaharu Shimo was eager to reach the capital. Shimada's sudden appearance had made him realize that the situation was spiraling out of control, and he had to act quickly.

When night fully descended, the convoy stopped to rest. By the campfire, Hayaharu Shimo tore into roasted meat and handed a piece to Saitama. "You really don't want some?"