Not all the paper flying out of the high tower consisted of originals.
Ninety percent was nothing but blank decoys.
The remaining ten percent carried the broken-up strokes of the commands, but no single sheet could reconstruct the complete contents on its own.
When Konan sealed away the two commands, she had never pinned her hopes on a single hidden chamber.
The underlying spatial sign-off had been divided into twelve sections.
The black overlay had been split into fifteen.
Each section was then mixed with three false sheets bearing identical ink marks but different chakra.
The true sequence did not follow the numbering.
Each genuine sheet also absorbed water at a different rate.
Once they fell into the rain, those that absorbed water fastest sank into the lower waterways first, while the slowest continued moving along the tower's outer walls.
White Zetsu could track chakra, but he could not tell at a glance which waterway a sheet would ultimately enter.
Konan had turned the Land of Rain's most ordinary weather into a second verification system.
Even if someone copied every stroke, the reconstructed command sequence would still be wrong unless they knew the rainfall at the time and the order of the waterways.
The sequence followed the drainage paths along the outer walls of the Land of Rain's high tower.
Only someone who knew which stream flowed into which reservoir first could piece the sheets back together into commands.
When White Zetsu emerged from the floor, what he saw was over a hundred sheets scattering at once.
A thin black layer immediately covered his arms.
Both arms split into dense root tendrils that chased the sheets bearing space chakra and black residue.
He could distinguish the genuine ink marks.
But he did not know the sequence needed to reconstruct them.