Byakugan Backlash, Brought to His Knees!

Qing's body convulsed violently in the middle of the corridor.

The transplanted Byakugan seemed to be ignited from within by something; the blood vessels on the surface of the eyeball burst open one by one, and purplish-black blood seeped out from the capillaries around the eye socket, flowing down the cheekbone.

"Ugh... Ahhh--!!"

The second wave of screams was even more piercing than the first.

Qing's vocal cords were trembling, and the sound was squeezed out from deep in his chest cavity, as if someone was sawing his optic nerve with a blunt knife.

His right hand was gripping his eye socket tightly, his five fingers digging into the flesh, and blood gushed from between his fingers, dripping down his jawline onto the stone floor of the corridor.

"Thump--"

Knee hit the floor.

Qing knelt down.

Kneeling before the twelve-year-old blond boy, like a stray dog whose spine had been broken.

"Master Qing!"

Chojuro's voice cracked, and the boy abruptly drew his twin swords from his back, leaning forward—

Naruto didn't turn around.

She didn't even lift her eyelids.

With just a slight turn of his shoulder, something invisible poured out from his body.

It wasn't Chakra, it wasn't killing intent.

It was pure Life Field energy from the depths of the Perfect Sage Body, like a transparent wall, that slammed Chojuro directly into the stone wall on the left side of the corridor.

The boy's back slammed against the wall, and his two swords slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground and bouncing twice.

His mouth was open, his chest heaving violently, but his hands and feet were as if nailed to the ground, unable to move.

It's not magic.

It's instinct—every cell in your body is screaming: Don't move.

To move is to die.

The Anbu on both sides of the corridor all took three steps back.

Someone's teeth were chattering, the "clattering" sound particularly clear in the quiet corridor.

Naruto lowered his head.

His silvery-white pupils looked down at Qing, who was kneeling at his feet.

Those eyes held no anger, no bloodlust, only something that chilled you to the bone—

Boring.

"Twenty years."

Naruto spoke, his voice low, with the husky quality characteristic of a young man.

"You've been showing off this piece of junk that you pried off a dead body in the Mizukage for twenty years."

He raised his right foot, the toe of his shoe touching Qing's shoulder, and gave him a gentle push.

Qing's body flipped over like a sack, and the back of his head hit the stone slab with a dull thud.

Naruto crouched down.

He rested his left elbow on his knee, and waved the index and middle fingers of his right hand together in front of his bloodied and mangled right eye.

"This thing--"

His tone was as if he were commenting on a poorly made counterfeit item sold at a roadside stall.

"In my eyes, it's just trash, not even worth a second glance."

Qing's left eye was still open.

The intact eye was filled with terror, the pupil shrinking to the size of a pinhead, and the lips trembled, unable to utter a single word.

He was treated like a "Byakugan child" for twenty years.

Twenty years.

He crawled out of the pile of corpses from the Blood Mist Era, and with this eye, he saw through Shisui Uchiha's Kotoamatsukami, saw through sixty-seven Genjutsu, and carried out thirty-four assassinations.

This is his fate.

His roots.

He possesses all the capital to stand at the center of power in the Hidden Mist.

And now this twelve-year-old boy is telling him—your thing is garbage.

It wasn't told to him with words.

It was the absolute suppression emanating from the depths of their bloodline, those pure, unblemished silver-white pupils, that told him, on a species level.

You don't deserve it.

The office door opened.

Terumi Mei stood in the doorway.

She saw everything.

They saw Qing lying on the ground, his right eye a bloody mess.

He saw Chojuro pinned to the wall, his face ashen.

Seeing that there was nowhere to retreat from the Anbu on both sides, their faces were filled with the instinctive fear of animals facing their predators.

The culprit—the blond boy—squatted next to Qing, his hands still in his pockets, as if observing a crushed ant.

Terumi Mei's throat bobbed.

It's been three years.

From the moment she sat in the Mizukage Chair, Qing became her most reliable right-hand woman.

Seven assassinations, three rebellions—Qing has never lost.

Three minutes.

From rolling his Byakugan in provocation to kneeling on the ground with blood streaming down his face.

It took less than three minutes.

Naruto stood up, the silvery-white light fading from his pupils, replaced by azure.

He twisted his neck, his cervical spine making a crisp "click" sound, and turned to face Terumi Mei.

The two looked at each other.

Naruto's gaze swept over her, lingering on her for less than a second, before moving past her shoulder to look at Haku behind him.

Bai stood at the end of the corridor.

The sleeves of her moon-white kimono hung down, and her hands were folded in front of her.

There was no surprise, no fear on her face—only a habitual, almost reverent quiet.

It all seemed perfectly natural.

Naruto reached out his hand to her.

Bai stepped forward and Earth Flow his side.

Naruto wrapped his arm around her waist, the movement as natural as breathing.

Bai's body stiffened slightly for a moment, then she leaned into his arms, the tips of her ears turning bright red.

Terumi Mei's gaze fell on the pale face.

That face.

That kind of temperament.

That icy, snow-like aura that emanates from the very core of it—

"Yuki..." Terumi Mei's voice was a little hoarse, "You brought the Mizunotsuki Clan here?"

"Who cares about the Mizunotsuki Clan or Mizunotsuki Clan?"

Naruto's voice turned cold.

He tightened his grip on Shiro's arm, rested his chin on Shiro's head, and stared intently at Terumi Mei his blue eyes.

"This is my woman."

Four words.

The air in the corridor, which was already so quiet you could hear someone breathing, seemed to have lost its last bit of warmth.

"Her Ice Release, her life, everything she owns—from this day forward, they all bear my surname, Uzumaki."

Naruto's voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the eardrums of everyone present like nails.

"My trip to your Water Country to help deal with those scoundrels was purely a side job."

He released Bai and took a step forward.

Terumi Mei didn't retreat.

But her back remained straight.

Naruto stopped two steps in front of her and put his hands back in his pockets.

Her posture was extremely casual, but the turmoil in her eyes made Terumi Mei's heart skip a beat.

"But there's only one sentence I want to make clear today."

He tilted his head, a bloodthirsty smile curving his lips.

"Anyone who dares to touch a single hair on her head—"

Something ignited in those azure eyes.

It wasn't murderous intent, but something even more suffocating.

It is an absolute and unquestionable possession.

"--I would immediately demolish the entire Kirigakure and turn it all into a graveyard."

"This is absolutely not a joke."

"I'm in charge."

Shiro stood behind him with her eyes lowered, her hands gripping the cuffs of her kimono tightly.

She didn't look up, but the curve of her lips was so soft it was almost melting.

Terumi Mei stood still, her emerald green eyes fixed on Naruto.

It's been three years.

Over the past three years, she has witnessed countless men pledging their loyalty, showering her with attention, and vying for power in her presence.

No one—in this way, in front of her—would say such things for another woman.

It wasn't said to her.

But that arrogant declaration, "I'll massacre the entire city if anyone touches a single hair on her head," carries more weight than any sweet nothings.

Because he has the ability.

Terumi Mei's gaze shifted to the ground.

Qing was still lying there, her right eye completely ruined, her whole body convulsing uncontrollably.

Three minutes.

Her strongest subordinate, three minutes.

Terumi Mei took a deep breath, turned around, and walked back to her office.

"Genji."

Her voice was steady, but her grip on the doorframe was tighter than ever.

"Summon the medical team to come and treat the wounded immediately."

"Also, send all the information on the rebels—every single word—to Mr. Uzumaki."

"Take it all. Don't leave a single piece of paper behind."

Genji stood at the end of the corridor, leaning on his cane. After a couple of seconds of silence, he replied in a low voice, "... Understood."

The door closed.

Terumi Mei leaned against the door, staring up at the ceiling.

Heartbeat.

Wow, that was fast.

"That Naruto Uzumaki..."

She bit her lower lip, her emerald green eyes swirling with something she herself couldn't quite decipher.

The way he protected that woman was so beautiful.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Terumi Mei closed her eyes tightly.

"... I must be crazy."

In the corridor, Naruto, along with Haku and Tayuya, turned and left.

The system notification sounded in my mind right on time.

[Detected a change in [Terumi Mei]'s affection level: +20. Current affection level: 80 (Defenses crumbled - an irresistible fall).]

[Hint: The target's core psychological need (the desire to be protected by an absolute powerhouse/to fight for her) has been precisely triggered by the host's "declaration of protectiveness." It is recommended that the host create a scenario of "taking a hit for Terumi Mei /fighting a powerful enemy alone" during the three-day rebellion suppression to trigger the bond.]

Naruto's lips curled into a slight smile.

He's eighty.

Two and a half days left.

"White."

"I am here, sir."

"Let's finish reviewing the information tonight. Tomorrow we'll just start the killings."

He glanced at Bai, his gaze carrying a certain warmth.

"In less than three days—I'll make sure everyone in the Water Country knows just how terrible the consequences will be if they dare to lay a finger on you."

Bai raised her head and met his gaze.

Something lit up in those clear eyes.

"Okay, sir."

Meanwhile, in the Mizukage's Office...

Terumi Mei straightened up from the door and walked to the French windows.

Outside the window, the Hidden Mist Port, was brightly lit in the night.

The sea breeze, carrying moisture, rushed in and ruffled the stray hairs at her temples.

She raised her hand and touched her cheek.

It's still hot.

"... just three days."

Her voice was so soft that only she could hear it.

"I'd like to see if your lying mouth is just full of empty boasts, or..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the curtains tightly.

--It's true, it's possible to make a woman willingly stand behind you.