Fight to the Death Without Retreat

Madara loosely clenched one hand, and a cold glint slid down from his fingertips, landing on a White Zetsu.

The White Zetsu that had been singled out didn't even make a peep.

Its body directly turned into a thin white membrane and spread over the unconscious real Rin.

It seeped in and merged with her, leaving behind no trace at all.

In just a few seconds.

The glowing seal markings of the Three-Tails on Rin's abdomen were stripped bare from the inside out by that membrane.

The white membrane began to twist and swell.

Bones rapidly shifted beneath the outer layer, while strands of short brown hair pushed out one by one.

Even the faint scrape on her forehead was replicated perfectly, down to a one-to-one match. It was absurdly flawless.

A "Rin" that could completely pass for the real thing lay limply back down in the mud.

Even her unconscious pose was textbook-perfect, without the slightest flaw.

Madara raised his chin toward the shadows.

The Third Mizukage drifted out like a ghost.

He picked up the real Rin and vanished into the thick fog after a few leaps.

Above the treetops.

Ye stood nearby and casually spread out his sensory network.

The Chakra inside the White Zetsu on the ground was no different from Rin's, enough to fool anyone.

At that moment, Ye stared at the fake Rin in the center of the clearing, and the urge to critique things like a director suddenly rose within him.

"How's this guy's acting?"

Ye asked through the channel in his mind.

The White Zetsu channel fell silent for two seconds.

Then dozens of voices began buzzing at once, bragging, "Don't worry! He's the best actor among us. You'll be satisfied!"

"Oh."

Ye answered casually, then glanced at Madara.

The old man