In a dark underground space in the Land of Rice Fields, only a few oil lamps gave off a faint glow. As a breeze stirred, their flames flickered, lending the gloomy space an even more sinister air.
Yet the masked ninja nearby seemed oblivious. They had long since grown accustomed to this life without sunlight and went about their patrols, not daring to slack off in the slightest.
At the far end of this dark space, however, stood a brightly lit chamber. Various instruments ran nonstop inside, and experimental subjects were stored in sealed glass cases.
Every one of these subjects had a hideous, savage face, their features twisted together. Only their eyes, radiating blood-red killing intent, remained fixed on the researchers outside their glass cases.
The researchers constantly prepared solutions and injected them into the subjects. With each injection, the subjects struggled frantically, but the shackles on the operating tables held them fast. Unable to break free, they could only writhe and let out piercing screams.
An ordinary person who witnessed this scene would probably have been stunned senseless on the spot.
At their head stood an elderly ninja in a white lab coat, his right eye covered by a black eyepatch and his face vicious. His hands continually formed hand seals before he traced lines of a seal across the floor.
In the middle of these seal lines stood a terrified chunin. His mouth opened and closed, but he could not make a sound.
After a long while, the elderly ninja formed another series of hand seals, then pressed his right hand onto the chunin's head. The chunin's eyes immediately went blank. Soon, his body resembled a sculpture molded from clay, and his face changed into someone else's.
"Huh? Didn't I die? Where am I?"
"This is Impure