Half a Year Later

"Do you have any way to deal with those ungrateful whelps under Hyuga Seisen who can see farther, shoot farther, and run even faster than the Flying Thunder God?!"

"Do you have any way to deal with Minato Namikaze, that Yellow Flash?!"

The more Ōnoki spoke, the more stifled he felt.

After the Night of the Nine-Tails, not only had Konoha failed to decline, it had become even more terrifying than before thanks to Hyuga Seisen's sudden rise and Minato Namikaze's iron-fisted rule.

Pick a fight with Konoha now? That was not asking for trouble. That was asking to die!

Kitsuchi, his face sprayed with spit, shrank back. He carefully recalled Hyuga Seisen's absurd beyond-visual-range bombardments on the battlefield, as well as the terrifying rumors of him crushing Tailed Beast Bombs with his bare hands.

Kitsuchi shook his head foolishly.

"No way."

Then, as if suddenly enlightened, Kitsuchi slapped his thigh.

"So we're only demanding an explanation from Kumogakure?"

Ōnoki looked at his dim-witted son, his teeth itching with anger. Gritting his teeth, he floated over to the window and glared viciously toward the Land of Lightning.

"Of course you pick the softest persimmon to squeeze!"

"Those Kumogakure brutes stabbed us in the back plenty of times during the Third Shinobi World War. How much of our land in the Land of Frost did they seize while we were distracted?"

Ōnoki clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked, undisguised killing intent bursting from his clouded eyes.

"Perfect. We'll settle old and new scores together!"

Kitsuchi looked at his furious father, his broad face still full of confusion.

He scratched the back of his head hard.

"Father, I still don't understand."

Kitsuchi asked in a muffled voice.

"I understand picking the softest persimmon. But what does that have to do with