Target: Hidden Rain Village Armory

The three of them then returned safely with the genin, encountering no more enemies along the way.

For some time afterward, Bai Ye honed himself on the battlefield. Whether because he was not strong enough or because Jiraiya was deliberately protecting him, he was always assigned missions far from the front lines—transporting supplies, patrolling, setting traps, escorting intelligence, and the like. Though he occasionally encountered enemy ninja, he never took part in any large-scale battles.

One day, Bai Ye went to the rubble field to practice with his blade as usual. But when he reached the camp entrance, he saw a familiar figure standing beside the fence.

Silver-white hair, a dark combat uniform, and a short blade strapped to his back.

Hatake Sakumo had arrived.

Bai Ye quickened his pace and walked over.

"Master."

"Come with me."

Sakumo turned and headed into the camp. Bai Ye froze for a moment before quickly following him.

Bai Ye followed Sakumo across half the camp and arrived before a tent much larger than the others. Its flap was dark, covered in intricate sealing patterns drawn in white lines.

Sakumo lifted the flap and went inside. Bai Ye followed.

The moment Bai Ye entered, the stale smell of smoke hit him, mixed with the distinctive mildew scent of rain-soaked canvas. The Third Hokage sat behind a desk, a hand-drawn map spread before him. More than a dozen symbols had been marked on it—red circles, arrows, question marks—densely packed together.

Bai Ye paused, then immediately reacted and gave a slight bow. "Lord Third Hokage."

The Third Hokage nodded. His gaze swept over Bai Ye before settling on Sakumo.

"Sakumo," said the Third Hokage.

"Yes."

"Since you have decided to bring him along for tomorrow's mission, make sure you complete it properly."

Sakumo nodded.

Bai Ye looked at Sakumo. "What mission?"

Sakumo did not answer at once. He glanced at the Third Hokage, who gave a slight nod.

"Intelligence reports that Hidden Rain Village has stockpiled a large quantity of military supplies in its interior. Not ordinary provisions, but strategic reserves sufficient to sustain prolonged warfare. Tsunade is watching Hidden Sand Village on the western front. Jiraiya must remain behind to command, and Orochimaru has just completed his northern-front mission and needs time to recuperate. I need someone to accompany me deep into Hidden Rain territory, locate the supplies, and determine their scale... If possible, destroy them on the spot."

Bai Ye's hand unconsciously tightened around his sword hilt.

"This is an infiltration mission. A grown man moving alone in the Land of Rain would arouse suspicion from any patrol. But a grown man traveling with a child can easily pose as a father and son fleeing disaster. They would be civilians who had lost their home, and the enemy would be less wary." Sakumo's voice remained calm and measured. "You have improved quickly lately. During the last encounter, you were already able to hold off a chunin briefly without losing. And since I know you best, I need you to work with me to complete this mission."

Bai Ye lowered his head and looked himself over. Thin and short. Once his blade was wrapped in coarse cloth, it looked like a wooden stick and hung inconspicuously at his waist. If he dirtied his face a little more, he would look exactly like a war orphan squatting by the roadside.

"When do we leave?"

"Before dawn tomorrow." The Third Hokage's voice was steady. "Head northwest from the Konoha outpost, cross the border of the controlled zone, and enter the Hidden Rain interior. You will disguise yourselves as a father and son who fled from the Land of Rivers. Travel along the main road. Do not hide too much—the more you hide, the more suspicious you look. Your objective is to locate the supply depot and confirm its scale and defensive strength. If the opportunity is right, destroy it on the spot. If not, bring back the intelligence."

Bai Ye nodded.

When he left the tent, the clouds above the camp were thicker than they had been that morning. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Only a dim gray light leaked through gaps in the clouds. Wind swept through the camp, carrying a damp scent tinged with blood.

At four in the morning, the rain had dwindled to almost nothing.

Bai Ye wore a grayish-brown short robe. The rough fabric scratched at his skin, and patches of varying shades covered its elbows and knees. He wore straw sandals, his toes exposed and reddened by the cold predawn wind.

Sakumo's disguise was even more thorough. His distinctive silver-white hair was tightly wrapped in a dark headscarf, leaving only a few rain-soaked strands exposed. He wore the dark-gray straw rain cape commonly used by Land of Rain farmers, woven from palm bark—rough and heavy. Several dark streaks of mud and ash had been smeared across his face, making him look from afar like he had been blackened by smoke.

The two left the camp without speaking to anyone. A sentry pulled open the wooden gate in the fence. Rainwater dripped through the cracks in the wood and landed on Bai Ye's shoulder, making him hunch his neck from the chill.

Heading northwest from the Konoha outpost, the terrain gradually changed. The muddy flatlands became rolling hills, the trees grew denser, and the road narrowed. Sakumo walked ahead with short, measured strides. Bai Ye followed behind, keeping neither too close nor too far away. From a distance, they looked like a child following his father—slightly sluggish, yet too afraid to fall behind.

After entering Hidden Rain's sphere of influence, Bai Ye began paying attention to the traces along the road. Sakumo had taught him that even the most careful person would leave traces in their surroundings, and this road bore many.

"Look at the ground." Sakumo did not turn around, his voice as low as a breath.

Bai Ye looked down. Deep wheel tracks ran through the mud, their edges neat and clear. They could not have been made by ordinary ox carts. The wheel width, axle spacing, and depth of the ruts all pointed to heavy transport vehicles. And there had been more than one—many of them, traveling back and forth along the same stretch of road until the mud had been compacted far harder than the ground around it.

The main supply transport route, Bai Ye confirmed to himself.

The two walked along the edge of the main road. Sakumo kept to the side closer to the road, while Bai Ye followed behind on the inner side. Sakumo had taught him that as well: if they encountered a patrol, the adult stayed on the outside and the child shrank inward. At first glance, attention would be drawn to the adult.

By the third day, one of Bai Ye's straw sandals had worn through. He squatted by the roadside, took it off, and began reweaving it with spare straw rope. Sakumo crouched beside him and took out a piece of dry rations from his pack—authentic refugee food, coarse and mixed with husks and grit. He broke it in half and handed one piece to Bai Ye.

Bai Ye accepted it and chewed slowly. The ration was so hard it hurt his teeth, and husks caught between them, but he chewed with great seriousness, like a child who had truly gone hungry for days.

A patrol approached in the distance.

Five men wearing the gray combat uniforms of Rain ninja walked down the middle of the main road. The leader was tall, with a blade longer than an ordinary ninja sword strapped to his back. Their steps were unhurried, but their eyes constantly swept the road on either side.

Sakumo did not look up. He remained crouched there, head lowered as he chewed his ration. The hem of his rain cape dragged on the ground, soaked over a large area by muddy water. Bai Ye crouched beside him, winding the straw rope around the sole again and again, his fingers rubbed red by the cord.

The patrol passed them. The leader lowered his head and glanced at the father and son crouching at the roadside—a dark-skinned middle-aged man in a rain cape, and a skinny boy weaving a straw sandal. There was nothing unusual about them.

After walking several more steps, someone in the patrol muttered something. Bai Ye did not catch it, but the footsteps did not stop and their rhythm did not change. The patrol continued onward, vanishing into the rain.

Sakumo stood and stuffed the remaining dry rations into his pack. "Move."