The Final Echo of Kekkei Genkai Before the Mizukage Building

On the broad bluestone plaza, the wind blowing head-on came to a halt before the formation of a hundred directly subordinate Anbu.

The ninjas clad in Kirigakure uniforms stood shoulder to shoulder without the slightest gap between them, their arms holding ninja swords fixed at identical angles.

Sunlight fell upon more than a hundred sharp blades, reflecting a dazzling expanse of cold gleam.

This was the final line of defense before the Mizukage Building, as well as Kirigakure's most dominant armed force.

Stopping behind Ye, Terumi Mei's reddish-brown hair was lifted by the wind, sweeping messily across her shoulders.

As she stared at the silent unit ahead, she pressed her lips tightly together.

As the leader of the coup faction, Terumi Mei knew the details of this direct guard unit better than anyone.

Every one of these people was an elite who had survived the Blood Mist's cruelest selection. Pick any one of them at random, and they possessed jonin-level strength.

If over a hundred such elites joined forces and combined their various coordinated ninjutsu, even if Terumi Mei, Chojuro, and Ao attacked together, they would not have the slightest chance of winning.

The Anbu formation opposite them began to advance.

There was no pre-battle rally and no one roared. More than a hundred people drew their ninja tools at once, their steps tightly linked as the entire formation pushed toward the center of the plaza.

There was not the slightest fear of death in their vacant, lifeless eyes.

A collective charge by suicide warriors who had completely lost their individual wills shook the bluestone ground with dense footsteps, every blade aimed at Ye.

Standing in the rear, Kabuto Yakushi raised a hand to adjust his round-rimmed glasses, a Chakra Scalpel already pinched between his fingers.

But just as he was about to step forward to meet the enemy, Ye raised his right hand and stopped everyone behind him with a simple gesture.

"Kimimaro, clean them up."

Without sparing the charging suicide warriors another glance, Ye casually gave the order, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The one who stepped out from the right side of the group was the white-haired youth.

Kimimaro's face was cold and stern. His eyes beneath his brow remained fixed ahead, sweeping over the Anbu without lingering.

When he reached Ye, he grabbed the collar of his torn shirt with both hands and violently ripped it apart.

Beneath the scraps of cloth scattering in the wind was the youth's pale, slender body.

Then came a dense, piercing sound of bones grinding together, loud enough to drown out even the orderly, heavy footsteps on the plaza.

Terumi Mei's eyes widened. The rise and fall of her chest abruptly stopped, and even her breath caught in her throat.

Under her gaze, fist-sized bulges rose along Kimimaro's back, stretching his pale skin thinner and thinner.

Immediately afterward, more than a dozen translucent, jade-like bone spikes burst through his flesh, carrying specks of blood as they emerged one after another from his arms and back, spreading in every direction.

Sunlight striking the bone spikes refracted into a brilliant sheen.

Without forming hand seals or gathering strength, Kimimaro shattered the bluestone beneath his feet with a kick and shot forward low to the ground.

The pale figure charging straight at over a hundred Anbu closed in on them in the blink of an eye.

The five Hidden Mist Anbu at the front swung their ninja swords down simultaneously.

The steel blades howled through the air as they descended from five directions, completely sealing off Kimimaro's escape routes from all sides.

Against such a coordinated attack, an ordinary ninja would never find an opening to evade.

Yet Kimimaro did not slow his pace, nor did his body assume any defensive posture.

A half-meter-long elbow bone swept out with his arm, whistling through the air as it met the five ninja swords head-on.

A series of crisp metallic cracks rang out.

The steel ninja swords, capable of cleaving through rock, snapped in half the moment they touched the jade-like bone blades, while cracks rapidly spread over their remaining portions.

Broken blades spun into the air, and the bone blades that passed through the flying fragments had already sliced through the flesh of the five Anbu.

"Willow Dance."

By the time he coldly uttered those words, Kimimaro had already stepped into the center of the enemy formation.

His body twisted to angles impossible for ordinary joints. The bone spikes on his back swept out with his turns, the elbow blades slashed across chests and abdomens, and sharp bones protruding from his knees stabbed outward with every step.

Every protruding bone could claim a life. The white-haired youth crashed into the formation of a hundred and began an utterly unhindered slaughter.

Columns of blood erupted through the air above the plaza one after another.

Wherever Kimimaro passed, severed limbs fell in succession, and blood that had not yet dried swiftly stained vast stretches of bluestone red.

Someone tried to retreat, but just as his hands formed the second Water Release seal, Kimimaro kicked him squarely in the chest, shattering his breastbone and sending his body skidding several meters across the ground.

Another raised his sword from behind for a sneak attack, but before he could even close half a step, the inverted bone spike on Kimimaro's back pierced his throat.

Sharp bones continually plunged into flesh and blood. The slaughter before them was so brutal that no one could look away.

Kimimaro's movements did not contain the slightest wasted motion. Every turn avoided incoming ninja tools, and every swing of his bone blades took another living life.

The Anbu who fell into pools of blood never screamed, even when their bodies had been mutilated beyond recognition.

Once they lost their support, their bodies simply collapsed. Their vacant eyes remained fixed in Kimimaro's direction until the last trace of life left them.

In less than two minutes, the once orderly formation of a hundred had been punched through from the center, leaving only layer upon layer of corpses on the ground.

One Anbu ninja lay in the blood, his legs severed by Kimimaro.

He did not cry out in pain. He merely locked his hollow eyes onto Kimimaro's back, his ten fingers still clawing desperately through the pool of blood.

Soon, the suicide warrior pulled an Explosive Tag from his ninja tool pouch. Clamping the edge of the paper between his teeth, he dragged his ruined body forward with his arms.

Blood poured continuously from his severed legs, leaving two glaring red streaks behind him, yet he still crept toward Kimimaro, trying to perish together with his target.

Seeing this, Terumi Mei's legs tensed instantly. A chill ran down the back of her neck, and her scalp prickled.

This madness, which defied the instinct for survival, was enough to prove that the intelligence Ye had revealed earlier was no lie.

Unless they were controlled by some genjutsu beyond all reason, no rational ninja could possibly continue carrying out orders after suffering such mutilation.

But Kimimaro did not turn around, and his forward steps were not affected in the slightest.

A sharp foot bone sprang from behind his heel and pierced the suicide warrior's skull with perfect precision, pinning him and the still-unexploded Explosive Tag firmly to the bluestone.

In the plaza, now quiet once more, only the wind remained, carrying the heavy stench of blood as it passed through the corpses scattered everywhere.

In less than three minutes, nearly a hundred elite directly subordinate Anbu had all fallen. Not a single one could stand again.

Mutilated corpses and broken ninja tools covered the plaza. Crimson blood flowed through the cracks between the stone slabs, gradually flooding the wide open space.

Stepping through the blood covering the ground, Kimimaro turned and walked back toward Ye.

The jade-like bone spikes that had burst through his skin did not bear even a trace of bloodstain, remaining crystal-clear beneath the sunlight.

As Kimimaro withdrew his Shikotsumyaku, the bones extending outside his body retracted one by one, and the wounds in his skin closed at a visible speed.

After returning to Ye's side, he respectfully lowered his hands. His expression remained calm, as if he had not just slaughtered nearly a hundred people.

Behind them, Chojuro's lips hung slightly open for a long while, unable to close. Even the hand gripping the twin blades Hiramekarei trembled uncontrollably.

Closing his aching Byakugan, Ao's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty as he forcibly suppressed the nausea churning in his stomach.

If this was merely the lowest level of strength under that black-clad youth's command, then their coup faction, who called themselves elites, was simply not worth mentioning before him.

The obstacles before the Mizukage Building had been completely cleared away.

Ignoring the fear and shock of those behind him, Ye merely raised his head. His gaze crossed the long flight of white jade steps and fell directly upon the tightly shut, heavy oak door at the top of the building.

"Let's go. It's time to meet the real master behind all this."