A cold wind swept through the hall, stirring up powdered rubble on the ground. The air was thick with the pungent stench of blood.
Tenten lay amid the ruins, covered in blood. Her right hand clenched a broken short blade tightly, its fragments buried deep in her palm as blood dripped through her fingers onto the stone floor.
"Next match." Temari put away her enormous Iron Fan, not even bothering to spare the injured girl another glance. "Trash at this level isn't worth this lady's time."
In the stands, Neji coldly closed his eyes again, as if he had expected this outcome all along. Shikamaru scratched his head and sighed. "What a drag..."
No one lingered for a loser. In the ninja world, ordinary people without bloodlines or secret techniques were not even qualified to serve as stepping stones.
Tenten bit down hard on her lip. Fourteen years. Alone in the back courtyard of the ninja tool shop, she had swung blades tens of thousands of times. Her wrists had swollen, healed, then swollen again. She had believed that if she staked her life on it, she could close the gap between herself and geniuses.
But reality was a resounding slap across the face. The wind blades had shredded her pride, along with her last shred of wishful thinking.
Just as Gekko Hayate was about to announce the end of the match—
Boom!
The entire Central Tower suddenly shuddered violently without warning.
It was not a chakra eruption. It was an overwhelmingly tyrannical, pure pressure carrying the scorching aura of life! It was as though some primordial beast had abruptly opened its eyes in the center of the examination hall.
The air instantly turned thick as water, and even breathing took every ounce of strength.
The sneer on Temari's face