The smoke and dust had yet to clear. Shihōin Naraku still stood in front of the six Konoha ninja, his blade held level, a faint black afterimage still flowing slowly along it.
He could not be bothered to count how many black rods he had shattered in that single instant. The faint tremor in the web of his right hand alone
was enough to show just how dense Isshiki's attacks had been.
"Keep retreating."
Naraku did not look back, his voice as steady as ever.
"Two kilometers southwest. Once you find the wounded, don't look back."
"Yōsuke Yamashiro, keep your subordinates in line."
Yōsuke Yamashiro's throat bobbed. He had only just climbed off the ground, and the three cuts left on his face by flying stones were still bleeding.
But he wasted no time nodding in reply. He simply swept his right hand forward and led his squad into another headlong sprint.
The six sets of footsteps rapidly receded over the rubble-strewn ground in a distinct rhythm.
Isshiki's gaze pierced the drifting smoke and shattered motes of black light, locking onto the figure standing with a sword in hand.
Little emotion showed on his face, but a trace of congealed confusion and wariness remained deep in his eyes.
It was not that he had failed to see what happened in that instant.
The speed at which Naraku had appeared behind the Konoha ninja had been too fast for the Body Flicker Technique.
Even the Ōtsutsuki Clan's dynamic vision had failed to catch so much as a blurred afterimage.
This was definitely not the Body Flicker Technique, nor was it Space-Time Ninjutsu like Flying Thunder God, which required formulas to be laid in advance.
Isshiki knew that Shihōin Naraku could use Flying Thunder God.
The entire shinobi world knew.
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