The sudden appearance of the clone army disrupted the First Division's formation. However, most of the shinobi were experienced and well-traveled; they quickly calmed down and organized an effective counterattack.
Those skilled with the blade were inevitably adept at taijutsu.
Swordsmanship and taijutsu complemented one another, forming the foundation for deadly techniques.
The shinobi of the First Division were all of this type, skilled in both taijutsu and kenjutsu. Among them, Ye Zi stood out as the finest.
His taijutsu, though not as extreme as Might Guy's, honed through ceaseless daily training, was not far behind. His kenjutsu, however, was a killing style forged from countless life-and-death battles, evolving from the simplest of sword techniques.
Watching the oncoming enemies wielding blades and taijutsu, a trace of scorn flickered in Ye Zi's eyes.
He would admit that his taijutsu was not on par with Guy's, but in terms of kenjutsu, he had the confidence to outshine them all.
The first to arrive were three dark-skinned Cloud shinobi, each wielding a blade. Their positions faintly suggested the prototype of a combined assault technique.
Ye Zi's scarlet pupils shifted from right to left, capturing every detail of their movements. Even the minute trembling of their muscles in motion was laid bare before him.
The three Cloud shinobi, faces grim, thrust their long blades forward simultaneously from different angles, not seeking vital points, merely aiming to wound Ye Zi.
Swish!
Faced with three stabbing blades, Ye Zi, brimming with confidence, leapt into the air amidst the chaos, narrowly evading the strikes.
He made no move to counter until the blades were mere centimeters from his body. Only then did he spring upward, giving the Cloud shinobi no chance to alter their strikes.
Just as they thought their blades would pierce him, Ye Zi responded at the last moment, as though dancing on their sword tips.
In midair, his waist twisted and his arm moved with the motion. The long sword in his hand drew a crimson arc, and three sprays of blood burst into the air.
As they passed by him, the three Cloud shinobi's eyes filled with confusion. Their momentum carried them forward a few more steps, their strength draining. Their legs buckled, and they collapsed, sliding along the ground and leaving streaks of glaring scarlet in their wake.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Landing lightly, Ye Zi spared not a glance at the cooling corpses behind him and charged directly into the chaotic enemy ranks.
Hundreds of nearby shinobi turned their focus on him, rushing forward to attack.
Shff! Shff!
Seven shuriken, thrown from cunning angles, cut toward Ye Zi, aimed precisely at his blind spots. Clearly, the thrower was skilled in ambush.
But before Ye Zi's eyes, such tricks were meaningless.
Though his perception wasn't on the same godlike level as Madara Uchiha's, it was still sharp enough to catch a single grain of sand floating in the air amidst the chaos, let alone seven shuriken.
Every image he saw flowed into his mind, forming a series of precise snapshots.
At 0.1 seconds: a slash from the 2 o'clock direction.
At 0.2 seconds: a heavy kick descending from above.
At 0.3 seconds: a kunai thrust from behind.
At 0.4 seconds: an earth-style shinobi bursting up from below.
At 0.5 seconds: a greatsword swinging from the 9 o'clock direction.
At 0.6 seconds: six shuriken arcing beautifully through the air, cutting through rising dust, looping around to strike from the 7 o'clock direction.
Ye Zi's right arm rose, parrying the blade from 2 o'clock. His left hand casually caught the heavy kick, enhanced by gravity. With a twist of his wrist, he flung the taijutsu user backward.
Thud!
The unfortunate body smashed into the kunai strike from behind. With a sickening sound, the kunai pierced flesh, and the taijutsu shinobi's scream rang out as both he and his would-be assassin were sent flying.
In the same instant, Ye Zi leapt. The earth-style shinobi lunged from the ground only to miss completely. At the same time, Ye Zi forcefully redirected the long blade he had parried, dragging it leftward just in time to block the massive greatsword from 9 o'clock.
Clang!
Three blades collided in midair.
Ye Zi's eyes spun swiftly. Still airborne, he pulled back his sword and, with even greater speed, slashed at the two stunned enemy swordsmen.
Two slashes, two lives.
After felling them, he descended, twisting his blade downward. Driving it into the ground, he pinned the earth-style shinobi beneath the soil.
Land, stab, withdraw, all in one seamless motion.
As he drew his blade free, Ye Zi's expression remained cold. Reversing his grip, he spun. His sword's tip pierced what appeared to be empty air, yet the six rapidly spinning shuriken obligingly slid onto his blade, strung together like beads.
Still spinning furiously, they rotated on his sword's tip. Using the momentum of his turn, Ye Zi flicked them outward. The six shuriken flew true, each piercing an enemy shinobi approaching from the flank.
Their dying screams vanished into the deafening cacophony of battle.
In less than a second, he had broken through the encirclement and slaughtered over ten enemies with ruthless precision.
Human life, in this moment, revealed its fragility.
Measured in time, the passing of a life lasted less than a tenth of a second.
After flinging the shuriken, Ye Zi's icy gaze pierced the crowd. His right arm snapped forward, hurling his long sword straight ahead.
The crimson blade shot forth like a narrow ribbon of blood, impaling an unprepared shinobi. Still unstoppable, it skewered him and carried on, stringing together five men like gourds on a vine, before finally slamming into a middle-aged shinobi whose face twisted with shock.
The sword's edge had already reached its limit. When it struck the middle-aged man, it was not the blade that harmed him but the sheer force of impact. His organs shifted violently, blood spurted from his mouth, and he nearly collapsed unconscious.
This man was the one who had thrown the six shuriken in the first place.
Ye Zi had seen not only the ambush from his blind spot, but also the thrower himself. Nothing escaped his eyes, not even the slightest stir of wind or grass.
Like a god of slaughter, he smashed through walls of enemies, reached the place where his sword had skewered five men, and pulled it free before continuing forward.
Wherever he passed, rivers of blood followed.
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Currently on Chapter 621 - The Ghost of Uchiha Returns