Escaping the Blood Mist

Ink-colored night blanketed Kirigakure, which remained wrapped in thick fog year-round, yet tonight it reeked with a suffocating smell of rust.

Kinjuro huddled in the corner of a dilapidated shack at the edge of the clan grounds, his frail, childish body trembling slightly.

Outside echoed frenzied shouts and the sounds of slaughter, the dull thuds of iron piercing flesh, and the roaring explosions of jutsu...

He knew it had begun.

The rebellion of the Kaguya Clan, that mad night destined for total destruction, had begun.

For the glory of Kaguya!

Kill them all!

An aura of sickly excitement tainted the roars of his clansmen.

Kinin peered outward through the gaps in the wooden planks. Under the moonlight, one figure after another wielded sharp weapons, constantly weaving through the fog and tracing deadly, cold arcs.

Three days ago, when he realized he had been reborn into this world as an orphan from a branch family of the Kaguya Clan, panic had almost consumed him.

He had read the manga and knew what would happen tonight: the entire clan would attack Kirigakure, only to be utterly massacred by a well-prepared Water Shadow force.

Except for Kimimaro.

Kinin thought of that white-haired child of the same age, the genius of the clan, wielder of the Shikotsumyaku, and the single most vital killing machine of the entire clan.

Right now, that boy was surely being gazed upon by Orochimaro's snake-like eyes, while he was nothing more than an insignificant branch-family orphan who had to plot a survival path for himself.

Mountain, run!

A lowered voice came from behind the shack.

Hearing this, Mountain tightened his whole body, immediately recognizing the newcomer as an old acquaintance of his parents, the traveling merchant Fujiwara.

After Mountain's parents died, this kind-hearted middle-aged man had treated him like his own flesh and blood. At the same time, he was also the key figure in the escape plan Mountain had been secretly preparing for days.

"Uncle Fujiwara?"

"The Hidden Mist ANBU have already surrounded the eastern side, but there is still a trail to the west."

Fujiwara's face looked exceptionally grave in the shadow. "A caravan just left this morning, and they are waiting for you under the old pine tree ten li away."

"This is the last thing I can do to help you."

Hearing this, Mountain did not hesitate.

He snatched up the small bundle he had prepared long ago, a few worn-out garments, a bit of dry rations, and a small amount of money stolen from the clan's warehouse.

Inside the bundle, a finger bone carefully wrapped in cloth faintly revealed itself. He had stripped it from his own finger while testing his Shikotsumyaku ability.

That was right; he was also a Shikotsumyaku awakener. Yet he was smart, and he had never used it in front of anyone.

Sheltered by the night fog and the chaos, the two of them avoided the tumultuous districts and slipped outward along the drainage ditch at the edge of the clan grounds.

Along the way, Mountain witnessed a scene he would never forget in this lifetime.

Moonlight pierced the fog, illuminating a clearing.

Orochimaro stood there, his long hair fluttering in the night wind, and deep purple slit pupils flashed with the radiance of having discovered a rare treasure.

Kneeling before him was none other than Kimimaro, whose hair was white as snow.

"What do you yearn for?" Orochimaro's voice was hoarse and laced with temptation.

"The meaning of existence."

At this moment, Kimimaro's face was terrifyingly calm. "Please bestow it upon me."

Orochimaro smiled, a smile that sent chills down Mountain's spine from his hiding place in the shadows.

He saw devotion bordering on religious fanaticism flashing in Kimimaro's eyes, and he also saw Orochimaro's hand resting gently on Kimimaro's head, just like a master marking his own possession.

At that moment, Mountain grew even more certain that his choice was correct.

He refused to become anyone's tool, nor would he die for illusory glory. He was going to live for himself—truly live.

"Stop looking, let's go." Fujiwara pulled him away from the spot swiftly.

Orochimaro turned his head slightly, a pair of snake pupils gazing toward the direction where the two had escaped, revealing an eerie smile.

Another member of the Kaguya Clan?

Pity, it was merely a branch member who had not awakened the Shikotsumyaku.

"Lord Orochimaro, is there something over there?"

Kimimaro looked in the direction of Orochimaro's gaze, then asked softly with a puzzled expression.

"Nothing, just an interesting little fellow."

With that, Orochimaro raised a hand and stroked the top of Kimimaro's head. "We should be leaving too!"

On the other side, the two people who had fled cautiously all the way finally escaped the Kaguya Clan Grounds and plunged straight into the dense forest on the outer fringes of Kirigakure.

Looking back, flames soared into the sky over the Kaguya Clan's territory, and the screams gradually grew faint. A bloodline clan with a century-long legacy was heading toward its end on this Blood Mist Night.

"Take care, kid, we have to part ways here."

Fujiwara stopped at the fork in the road and shoved a crude map into Kaguya Yama's hands. "Follow the markers and you can catch up to the caravan before dawn. The Land of Rice Fields may be chaotic, but at least there is no Bloody Mist."

Hearing this, Kaguya Yama nodded, his throat tightening slightly.

He said no words of gratitude, nor did he ask why Fujiwara was not coming with him. He simply bowed deeply, then turned and vanished into the night.

Five days later, at the border of the Land of Water.

By now Mountain had blisters on his feet, and his clothes were caked in dust.

Along the way, he had slept in the open and eaten cold food, bypassing all the main roads. Relying on the sense of direction he had cultivated from delivering food in his past life, he had managed to track down the markers Fujiwara's caravan left all the way.

At this moment, he was sitting in the rear cabin of a large wooden boat, surrounded by herbs and coarse cloth that were specialties of the Land of Water.

The caravan leader was a middle-aged woman with a scar on her face named Achun. She was an old acquaintance of Fujiwara, and she had taken Kaguya Yama in, letting him do odd jobs in exchange for a meal.

"Kid, you escaped from Kirigakure, didn't you?"

When making camp in the evening, Achun asked out of the blue.

Hearing this, Kaguya Yama's heart tightened, but he still nodded.

"That ghost-town of Kirigakure..."

Achun threw a piece of firewood into the campfire. "Good thing you got out."

"Still, once we reach the Land of Rice Fields, don't expect to live a peaceful life."

"That place is a lawless zone where the major nations don't care and the minor ones can't interfere. Rogue shinobi, rogue ninja, and bandits are more numerous than weeds by the roadside."

Mountain listened silently, crumbling a piece of hard ration, mixing it into a bowl of soup, and eating it in small bites.

At that moment, the index finger of his right hand twitched involuntarily.

This was a subconscious reaction after using Shikotsumyaku to strip away his finger bone; although the bone had already regenerated, the muscle memory remained.

After seven or eight days of drifting, the cargo ship successfully arrived at the eastern dock of the Land of Rice Fields. The caravan shouted as they unloaded the goods, and Achun went to rent two carriages before leading the caravan deeper into the interior of the Land of Rice Fields.

After two days of travel, the terrain also began to gradually flatten out, with sporadic farmland and dilapidated villages starting to appear on both sides of the road.

Even so, Kaguya Yama also noticed.

The walls of many surrounding houses bore marks left by ninjutsu or weapons, and the gazes of the villagers along the way toward the caravan were filled with vigilance and greed.

"Almost there."

At noon on the third day, Achun pointed to the outline of a city wall vaguely visible in the distance. "The largest market in the Land of Rice Fields. Once we get there, we'll—"

Her words stopped abruptly.

At the bend in the road ahead, five figures slowly walked out.

They wore no forehead protectors from any shinobi village. The one leading them was a one-eyed brute with a notched shinobi saber slung over his shoulder.

The other four spread out, blocking both sides of the road.

"Rogue ninja... damn it..."

Achun cursed under her breath, her hand moving toward the kunai at her waist.

The caravan guards immediately grew tense. There were only six people in the entire caravan total, and two of them were teenagers in their teens.

"Leave the goods and the woman, the rest of you can go." The one-eyed brute grinned, exposing a mouthful of yellow-black teeth.

"In your dreams!"

Right then, a guard beside Achun roared and charged forward.

The battle erupted in an instant.

These rogue ninja were clearly experienced and moved with tacit coordination. After two exchanges, a caravan guard fell, fresh blood staining the dirt road.

Witnessing this scene, Kaguya Yama's heart hammered wildly. He shrank behind the cargo cart, his brain working at top speed.

Run? This frail six-year-old body couldn't run far. Fight? He had no combat experience whatsoever, and the only thing he could rely on was his half-baked Shikotsumyaku.

At that thought, the bone beneath the skin of his right index finger began to slowly wriggle.

"Found you, brat!"

A chilling voice suddenly came from behind.

Kaguya Yama whipped his head around, only to see a skinny rogue ninja who had somehow circled to the back of the cart, a short blade in his hand stabbing straight for his chest.

He rolled instinctively to the side. The short blade grazed past his ribs, tearing his clothes and skin. A sharp pain washed over him, but what terrified Kaguya Yama even more was that sensation of death.

Was he going to die?

He had escaped the Bloody Mist, only to die right here?

Reborn once, and he was still going to die such a meaningless death by the side of the road?