The fire was extinguished, but the smoke hadn't completely dissipated. The acrid smell mixed with the stench of blood weighed heavily on everyone's chest.
The canyon was eerily quiet for a moment, with only the occasional crackling of unburnt firewood and the suppressed groans of an injured porter.
Reppu propped himself up on his knees, his legs trembling slightly, and his vision went black for a moment. He shook his head, forcing himself to swallow the feeling of exhaustion and the metallic taste in his throat. He was the captain; he couldn't afford to collapse now.
"Get moving," his voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding against stone. " Sada, go higher, keep an eye on things, see if anyone's still there. Sasori, see if the puppets can still move, help clear the path. Asuka, you..."
He glanced at the gaping cut on the boy's arm, frowned, and said, "Bandage yourself first! Shira... uh..."
He looked at the small, thin figure still sitting on the ground, head buried in his knees. The child's clothes were torn in several places, and his shoulders were trembling slightly. Reppu sighed inwardly; after all, he was just a child. That last bit...
He pursed his lips and changed his words to. "... Take a breath first, there's no rush."
Shira didn't look up, but her shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly before she hugged her knees even tighter.
The caravan was in complete chaos. Five people were dead. Three were porters who had been taken down by poisoned darts at the beginning and couldn't be saved. The other two were guards; one was hit on the head by a falling rock, and the other had his intestines spilling out. Neither of them survived until the end of the fight.
Those who survived were all wounded, some crying and cursing, some groaning, their hands trembling as they bandaged their companions. Five loads of goods were also lost, probably scattered in the chaos by frightened livestock, or perhaps stolen by some quick-footed bandit before fleeing.
The caravan leader was now pounding his chest in frustration, his face scrunched up like a dried orange peel as he looked at the meager losses, muttering "What a loss, what a loss!" But when he glanced at the several corpses covered with cloth on the ground, his mutterings subsided, turning into an excessively heavy sigh.
The man died, the goods were lost, and even if they made it to Konoha, the profit would be meager. Everyone knows the saying, "In chaotic times, smuggling goods is like risking your life," but actually being caught in that situation... ugh.
Sada silently climbed onto a relatively stable boulder next to him, sat down, and stopped using Chakra Threads to control the wounded " Vulture," simply letting it slump at his feet like a dead bird.
He took out his water bottle and sipped it slowly, his gaze unfocused, staring at the direction the fleeing bandits had gone in the other end of the canyon. He wasn't really paying attention to anything; he was just tired and his mind was blank.
The Sasori was trying to pick up the broken tail hook of the " Scorpion Needle," but after gesturing at it for a couple of moments, it threw it away in frustration, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, rummaged through its bag for a bandage, and haphazardly wrapped it around a scratch on its arm.
The Asuka, however, recovered its spirits the fastest. It grimaced as it wrapped a bandage around its arm with one hand to stop the bleeding, hissing and sucking in cold air, while its eyes still darted around restlessly.
After bandaging him up, he knelt down next to Shira and gently nudged him with his uninjured elbow.
"Hey, Shira," Asuka's voice was lowered, lacking its usual boisterousness, "Are you... alright? Thanks for earlier."
After several seconds, Shira finally gave a muffled "hmm," without lifting his head. What could he say? Thank you? Even saying "hmm" felt like a waste of energy to him at that moment.
Just as this sense of relief, exhaustion, and sorrow was slowly spreading, so too did this moment unfold.
No one noticed, or rather, no one had the extra energy to notice—in the shadow of a pile of rubble overturned by the blast wave, littered with scattered cargo boxes and the corpses of bandits, a pair of eyes were staring intently at them.
It was the " Mandrill " that hadn't been seen for a long time.
This guy was short and moved as slippery as an eel. Not long after the fight started, he took advantage of his familiarity with the terrain and hid in a relatively safe crevice. His original plan was to pick up any scraps and make a quick getaway.
But to his surprise, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse. The Giant Rock was gone, and it seemed that the Shipi and the Viper were doomed. His companions scattered in all directions. He felt a chill in his heart and hid in a crevice, barely daring to breathe.
Only when the commotion outside subsided did he dare to peek out. Seeing the Sunagakure people all wounded, sitting and lying down, while the caravan was in complete chaos with cries of pain, his greed, like ashes doused with oil, suddenly ignited into flames.
"Damn it, all that work for nothing..." He stared at the several crates scattered not far away, one of which had been smashed open, revealing brightly colored, obviously valuable silk fabric inside.
He recognized it; it was " Ship of the Desert's" prized prize, a single one worth a fortune in the Land of Fire! Then he glanced at the Sunagakure: the Chunin, leaning on Kunai; the two puppeteers looked weak and listless; the youngest was staring blankly; and a teenager had his arm in a sling...
A crazy idea flashed into his mind: before they could recover, he would sneak over, steal two of the most expensive pieces of fabric, and then slip into the narrow, wind-eroded crevice he had already scouted out, leading to the outside of the canyon! He knew this rocky forest very well; once he entered the crevice, he could easily find his way through the maze!
Let's do it! The bold get rich, the timid starve! Give it a shot, and you might turn a bicycle into a motorcycle!
The Mandrill licked its chapped lips, a gambler's red gleam in its eyes. Like a real Mandrill, it crawled silently on all fours, using the scattered boxes and the shadows of the rocks to make its way towards the box of loose silk.
His movements were light and almost silent. He drew closer to the box, the sheen of the silk seeming to beckon him in the dim light. Five meters... three meters...
Soon, as long as we can get to that place...
He could even smell the unique, slightly astringent aroma of silk. Almost there, almost in his hands!
Just as his fingers were about to touch the cool, slippery fabric—
"Huh? What's that noise?"
A soft groan, tinged with weariness and confusion, rang out from not far behind him.
It was the Sada.
Sada sat on the boulder, his gaze initially unfocused. However, the vigilance honed by his ninja training caused his peripheral vision to unconsciously scan every unusual movement on the battlefield below.
The silhouette of that pile of cargo boxes... seemed slightly different from when he had glimpsed it a few seconds earlier; it looked like there was an extra small clump.
Instinctively, almost without thinking, his fingers twitched slightly.
The bird-shaped puppet " Vulture," lying sprawled at his feet and seemingly "dead," had its Chakra -sensing crystal embedded in its damaged head flash extremely faintly. This was the puppet's most basic passive alert mode, consuming very little energy and only able to sense obvious Chakra movement or thermal reactions at close range.
The Mandrill, feeling guilty, highly tense, and with its Chakra subconsciously flowing, happened to enter the edge of the remaining sensory range at that very moment!
The puppet " Vulture " didn't move, but Sada's pupils suddenly contracted!
"There's something there!" he shouted without thinking, and at the same time, he suddenly hooked his finger!
"Click!"
At the Root the damaged " Vulture's " right wing, a pre-loaded, poisoned steel nail, originally intended for emergency use, was suddenly ejected by a spring! Because the puppet was damaged, the attack was completely inaccurate, its direction was off, and its speed was much slower than normal.
"What?!" "Where?!"
The Reppu, the Sasori, and the Asuka were all startled at the same time, and they turned their heads sharply to look in the direction of the warning from the Sada and the trajectory of the steel nails! Shira also suddenly raised her head.
The Mandrill was terrified! He hadn't expected to be discovered, much less that the seemingly useless puppet could still move! Seeing the steel nail slowly shooting towards him, his first reaction wasn't that it was inaccurate, but rather—he'd been exposed!
He could no longer care about hiding. With a scream, he sprang up from the shadows, no longer trying to grab the silk, and turned to run for his life toward the crack in his memory! He forgot all about lightness and concealment, leaving only the most primal fear and the instinct to escape.
But he forgot, or rather, he didn't even notice—his current location was between a pile of scattered cargo crates and an area littered with sharp pebbles and broken weapons from the previous battle. And the direction he frantically lunged towards...
It happened to be the edge of the " Earth Flow Rampart," the very land where " Shipi " had frantically channeled his Chakra to rise and then explode in an attempt to save his life. There, the ground was covered with huge cracks and loose, brittle rocks that had been scorched by flames and then cooled.
"Snap--!"
A sharp, teeth-grinding crack.
The Mandrill stepped onto a rock that looked flat but was actually hollow inside, covered only by a thin layer of charred crust! The charred crust shattered instantly!
"Ah--!" The Mandrill only managed to let out a short scream before losing its balance. One leg sank into the ground, its body swayed, and its hands flailed wildly as if trying to grab something.
Less than half a foot away from him, a half-broken machete, discarded by either a bandit or a guard, lay askew. The blade was rusty, but the broken edge was jagged, like the fangs of a wild beast.
"Pfft!"
The dull thud of a sharp blade slicing into flesh was chilling.
The Mandrill's waving arm, carrying the momentum of its forward lunge, slashed precisely across the jagged edge of the broken blade! From wrist to forearm, a deep, gaping wound, revealing bone and torn flesh, was ripped open! Blood gushed out like a burst faucet, instantly staining half of its body and the scorched earth beside it red.
"Ugh... hoarse..." The Mandrill fell to the ground, clutching the horrible wound, its eyes wide open as it stared at the gushing blood, seemingly still not understanding what had happened. Only then did the excruciating pain surge in like a tsunami. It opened its mouth, but could only let out a series of gasping hoarse sounds, its body convulsing violently from blood loss and pain.
The rusty, ownerless broken knife stood there silently, its blade stained with fresh, warm blood that slowly dripped down the rust. It seemed to mock them, or perhaps it was a cold, indifferent footnote to this merciless canyon.
The crooked steel nail that Sada had released finally made a "thud" as it weakly struck the rock wall a few meters away and fell into the dust.
The entire canyon suddenly fell silent again, save for the Mandrill's increasingly faint twitches and indistinct gurgling sounds from its throat.
Everyone watched this sudden and swiftly concluded scene.
Sada's hand remained frozen in mid-air, his face pale. He... he didn't intend to kill, at least not like this. He just... he just sensed something was wrong, and instinctively...
Reppu watched the short figure quickly lose its life in the pool of blood, then glanced at the blood-stained broken knife. His lips twitched slightly, but in the end, he said nothing. He simply closed his eyes wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He recognized the face; it was the guy nicknamed " Mandrill " from the bandit intelligence report. Good, that saved him trouble.
Sasori walked over, kicked the Mandrill's motionless body to confirm it was dead, and then glanced disdainfully at the rusty knife. "Tsk, how disgusting," he muttered, it was unclear whether he was referring to the way the creature died or the knife.
Asuka shrank his neck and subconsciously touched his bandaged arm, suddenly feeling the wound hurt even more. He cautiously glanced at Shira and found that Shira was looking at the Mandrill's corpse and the pool of blood. The color drained from her face, her eyes, which had just recovered a little, began to stare blankly again, and her lips were pressed tightly together.
Shira was indeed looking. He stared at the dark red stain that was rapidly seeping into the Kurotsuchi, at the corpse curled up in a strange position, and the absurd image of the Giant Rock collapsing earlier flashed through his mind.
Both died from bloodshed, both lost their lives. One was killed by his own hands, the other... just like that, inexplicably, died on a rusty knife no one wanted, beside the ruins created by his own accomplices.
So this is how casual and worthless death can be. No matter how cunning or how well you can hide, one careless step, one misstep, or you might just happen to fall next to a rusty knife, and that's it.
His stomach began to churn again, even more violently than before. He abruptly turned his gaze away, unable to bear looking any longer.
Someone in the caravan began to sob softly, whether for their fallen companions or for the successive deaths, it was unclear. The caravan leader Earth Flow over shakily, looked at the Mandrill's corpse, then at the scattered box of silk, opened his mouth, but ultimately only let out a long, long sigh.
That sigh seemed to release all the toil, risks, and helplessness of a lifetime.
When Reppu opened his eyes again, his gaze had returned to calm, or rather, to a bottomless weariness.
" Sasori, dispose of that knife. Drag the body to that ditch over there and bury it with the others." His voice was flat. "The rest of you, hurry up and treat the wounds. Once we've finished counting, we must leave here in 15 minutes."
The smell of blood is too strong in this place.