Waiting at the Drain Outlet

Late at night.

At the eastern drainage outlet of Konoha Village.

The damp concrete pipe wall pressed against his back, its chill seeping into his spine.

Lin Feng formed a hand seal with his right hand. The pale green chakra leaking from his fingertips flickered intermittently like a candle flame that could go out at any moment. His half-kneeling reflection lay on the water's surface, while silvery, grease-like medicinal residue was slowly forced out through his pores, floating atop the water and gathering into a glaringly thin film.

His chakra circulation was still sluggish.

He had estimated the timing. Shisui would need at least another hour to finish sweeping the perimeter of the security zone, while Lin Feng could currently draw upon less than half of his usual combat chakra.

Then—

Soft footsteps sounded three meters behind him.

They were the sound of standard Anbu ninja boots stepping on wet bricks.

Yet the killing intent was completely restrained.

Lin Feng's pupils contracted slightly, and the chakra output of the Purification Technique halted at once. He did not turn around immediately. His right hand had already silently settled on the kunai's hilt, and the instant his fingertips touched the cold metal, his body entered a combat-ready state faster than his mind could react.

The footsteps stopped three meters away and did not come any closer.

"The scent of medicine lingering on you is quite strong."

The voice was calm, as though merely commenting on the weather.

"Root has improved the adhesion formula in recent years. Simply rinsing with water will not wash it off."

Lin Feng finally turned around.

In the darkness, Uchiha Itachi stood on a concrete platform inside the drainage outlet. Moonlight slanted through the gaps in the outlet grating, leaving patches of dim light across him.

His standard Anbu mask hung from his waist.

His Sharingan was not activated.

That made Lin Feng realize that Itachi had not come with killing intent tonight—at least, not on the surface.

He slowly released the kunai's hilt, though his fingers remained near the ring.

"Itachi-senpai, coming to a drainage outlet this late at night... I assume you are not here to teach me how to do laundry."

The air fell silent for two seconds.

Itachi took a step forward.

The movement was restrained, just enough to cross the boundary between darkness and moonlight and reveal an expression so calm it was almost indifferent.

"At least forty percent of your chakra circulation is still being suppressed by the medicine." Itachi's gaze fell on the silvery residue floating on the water. "If you forcefully use the Purification Technique under these conditions, you will instead drive some of the residue into deeper chakra pathways."

After saying that, he raised his hand.

A faint glimmer of chakra lit up at the tip of his right index finger—precise enough to make Lin Feng's eyelid twitch.

It was a miniature application of the chakra blade.

Without waiting for Lin Feng's agreement, Itachi lightly touched the water's surface. The chakra glow was like a silver needle cast into water, piercing the center of a clump of silvery medicinal residue along an extraordinarily precise trajectory.

The residue was instantly separated.

It peeled away from the water's surface, condensed into a bead, and rolled into Itachi's palm. Throughout the entire process, the chakra fluctuations were controlled below the very limit Lin Feng could perceive.

Lin Feng stared at the silver bead.

"Standard Anbu training does not include precise identification and removal methods for Root's improved medicines."

He lifted his gaze and looked directly into Itachi's eyes.

"Your familiarity with Root's techniques runs far deeper than I expected, senpai."

Itachi withdrew his hand. The silver bead rolled once across his palm before turning into powder and scattering away.

"The Anbu has mission records that need to be handed over."

His tone remained steady, as though he had not heard the probing in Lin Feng's words.

"Shisui's operation codename is 'Deep Current.' There are conflicting orders within the command structure. I came to confirm whether he had contacted you."

Lin Feng nodded.

But he caught the key phrase.

"Conflicting command structure—"

He paused for half a beat.

"Does that mean there is a problem inside the Anbu, or that someone bypassed the Third Hokage and issued orders directly?"

Itachi did not answer directly.

He was silent for two seconds before saying:

"The legitimacy of an order is sometimes not as clear as it appears on the surface."

The words were like a stone dropped into still water.

Danzo meeting with the Third Hokage, the lights in Root's operating room, and that data scroll soaked in blood flashed through Lin Feng's mind.

But he did not press further.

He changed the subject.

"I have seen Sasuke's training."

He deliberately softened his tone.

Itachi's expression did not change, but Lin Feng noticed the ring finger of his lowered right hand curl slightly.

"He is very talented," Lin Feng continued. "But lately, he has been training until very late. He has also been spending more time sitting alone beneath a large tree, staring into space."

"He wants to catch up to you, doesn't he?"

Water dripped.

Faint dripping echoed through the concrete pipe walls, rippling outward in circles.

The curve of Itachi's lips did not change.

But the warmth in his eyes plummeted.

It was not killing intent—but a deeper vigilance wrapped beneath an icy surface.

"Sasuke's affairs are none of your concern."

His voice remained calm, yet an invisible pressure had been added to it.

"Lin Feng, you do care about your companions. But some boundaries are best left uncrossed."

Lin Feng met that sudden chill without looking away.

"Matters within the Uchiha clan—"

Itachi continued, his tone shifting from mild to utterly unfamiliar.

"Have their own methods of resolution within the family. You have already been drawn into Root's affairs. Interfering with the inheritance of the Sharingan will be very dangerous."

"This is not a warning."

"It is a fact."

The pressure was like a millstone dropping from the sky, squeezing the air tighter inch by inch.

Lin Feng was silent for two seconds.

Then he looked straight into Itachi's eyes.

"And what about you, senpai?"

His voice was soft, but every word carried an edge.

"Are you standing here as an Anbu member?"

"Or as the Uchiha heir?"

Itachi stopped.

For only a second.

But under Lin Feng's activated Sharingan, that second of hesitation was exceptionally clear.

The pupil in Itachi's left eye contracted rapidly for an instant beneath the Three-Tomoe state. The chakra fluctuation was extremely faint, almost imperceptible, yet the sense of burden spilling through the disguise—

Was like something pressing down on Itachi's eyeball.

"I stand where I must protect the village."

Itachi's answer fell into a shadow untouched by moonlight, vague and restrained.

"It is late. Leave as soon as you finish cleaning up."

He turned around.

"If you see Shisui, tell him to return directly to the Anbu and report."

Lin Feng did not make any specific promise.

He merely nodded slightly.

Itachi's footsteps gradually faded, disappearing into the darkness deep within the drainage passage.

Lin Feng stood alone beside the pool.

His gaze fell on where Itachi had been standing—the splash marks left when he stripped away the medicinal residue still remained on the concrete platform.

The silver gleam had completely faded.

But the instant Itachi's left pupil contracted was branded onto his retina.

He closed his eyes and replayed the entire conversation in his mind.

Itachi's appearance had not been a random patrol.

He had found Lin Feng's location with precision—this meant the Anbu had fixed surveillance over the drainage outlet area, or Itachi himself had been tracking Shisui's movements.

The intelligence Itachi had provided—conflicting command structures and questionable order legitimacy—was vague, but it confirmed Lin Feng's earlier deduction: Danzo's forces were infiltrating the Anbu command system.

But what truly put him on guard was Itachi's avoidance.

During the conversation, when he had probed using Sasuke, Itachi's response had shifted from mild to threatening, yet he had never once said the words "protect Sasuke."

Not once.

Itachi was deliberately avoiding that subject.

And that only proved it—Sasuke was Itachi's true weakness, as well as the core of the contradiction in his current position.

Lin Feng opened his eyes.

He made a decision:

For now, he would not tell Shisui about tonight's conversation with Itachi.

Itachi's position required more cross-verification through evidence. Shisui's feelings toward Itachi were too complicated. If he learned that Itachi had appeared in private and issued a warning, Shisui might go confront Itachi directly.

That would only alert the enemy.

And besides—there was something wrong with Itachi's left eye.

Lin Feng recalled the instant that pupil had contracted. It had not been an ordinary chakra fluctuation, but more like a sign that some burden had accumulated to a critical point.

He had to find out the truth.

Lin Feng stood up and used the remaining chakra in his body to assess his condition.

About seventy percent of the medicinal residue had been cleared.

His chakra pathways were still sluggish due to the suppressive effects. It would likely take another four to six hours of natural metabolism before his combat ability fully recovered.

But his Sharingan's observational ability was unaffected.

That was enough.

He stepped across the damp concrete platform and entered the dark alley outside the drainage outlet.

The night was at its deepest.

The eastern edge of the village was completely deserted.

Lin Feng did not head toward the meeting point in the Forest of Death.

He changed direction.

Target: the outer area of the Konoha Anbu Archive.

Itachi had told him to have Shisui return directly to the Anbu and report—meaning the Anbu's internal mission records might contain the original documents for the "conflicting orders" Itachi had mentioned.

Before everything surfaced, he needed to secure third-party evidence first.

His footsteps were deliberately suppressed to the utmost limit in the dark alley.

Moonlight stretched out his shadow.

And somewhere behind him, in the deeper darkness of the night, that crow with its neck twisted—

Its eyes had been gouged out, leaving empty sockets.

A hint of the Sharingan.

A hint of warning.

But Lin Feng did not stop walking.