Without warning, the ground beneath Inoiki began to shift.
A wide circular section of earth spiraled open, forming a perfectly symmetrical hole beneath his feet. But Inoiki didn't fall. He hovered effortlessly, held aloft by his psychokinetic control, his body descending slowly and smoothly into the opening.
His feet never touched the walls or floor. He remained suspended mid-air, calmly lowering himself into the depths. As he sank into the earth, the opening above him sealed itself shut, the terrain folding in seamlessly, like a stone gate sliding into place.
From the surface, it was as if a sleek capsule had vanished into the ground without a trace—quiet, precise, and unnervingly smooth.
The Iwa shinobi gathered around Kitsuchi stood frozen, wide-eyed. The sheer control and fluidity of the technique had stunned them.
"Lord Kitsuchi," one of them finally asked, breaking the silence, "what kind of jutsu was that?"
Kitsuchi remained silent for a beat. He had no idea what he'd just witnessed. He'd never seen anything like it—not in Iwagakure's archives, not in battle, not even in legend.
Still, after a moment, he offered the only answer that made any sense.
"Some advanced variation of the Hiding Like a Mole Technique," he said, his tone calm but distant, as if he were still processing what he'd seen.
Before the questions could continue, Kitsuchi raised his voice slightly. "Alright, that's enough. Return to your posts. Stay sharp."
With that, he turned and walked away, heading toward the interrogation quarters. There was still a spy to deal with—and now, more than ever, he needed answers.
----
Inoiki re-emerged beneath the surface, surfacing quietly just outside the village wall. No tremor, no sound—just a silent shift in the earth as he phased through it like a ghost. He slipped into a narrow alleyway, blending into the shadows without drawing a single glance.
Once concealed, he retrieved a storage scroll from within his cloak. With a swift hand sign, a puff of white smoke burst forth, and a massive sword materialized in front of him. But before it could hit the ground or catch the eye of any patrol, the weapon fragmented into dozens of puzzle-like pieces—each shaped like a sword. They hovered around Inoiki, but since it was dark, there was nothing to worry about.
The full form of the weapon would be too conspicuous here—too obvious. Inoiki had no intention of alerting the enemy prematurely.
He closed his eyes.
A calm breath escaped his lips as he focused, extending his awareness outward. His Observation Haki rippled invisibly across the area, reaching in all directions with silent precision. Within seconds, a mental map bloomed in his mind, covering a full 100-meter radius. It was a perfect, three-dimensional rendering of his surroundings.
Everything appeared as blank shapes—buildings, alleys, rooftops—except for the chakra signatures. Those glowed vividly, like sky-blue flames moving through a dark model. They represented the enemy ninjas—every one of them lit up, marked in his mind.
Some patrolled the rooftops, scanning for signs of infiltration. Others moved along the streets in pairs. A few were stationed indoors, watching through windows and cracks in doors, waiting for something—anything—to tip them off.
They had no idea he was already here.
Within this 100-meter zone, Inoiki had complete control. Anything—an object, a weapon, even the ground itself—was his to command through psychokinesis. Beyond that range, his precision faded, and the force of his abilities began to weaken.
But here?
Here, he was absolute.
The scattered giant blade fragments—hundreds of them—hovered around Inoiki like silent phantoms. With a single thought, they began to move.
They spread out in every direction, swift and purposeful, gliding invisibly through the night. Under Inoiki's absolute control, each shard traced a path through the darkness, undetectable to the naked eye. Not a single glint of light betrayed their movement.
And then, execution.
Each blade slid through the necks of enemy shinobi in one clean, effortless pass. No screams. No struggle. Just the quiet end of movement. Inoiki had targeted the throat deliberately—precision strikes designed to sever life without alerting a soul.
In less than a minute, every enemy within his 100-meter radius was dead. Dozens of them—forty, maybe fifty—gone without a sound. Some collapsed on rooftops. Others tipped forward and began to fall toward the ground, their bodies moments away from making noise that could ruin everything.
But Inoiki was already watching.
Before any of the corpses hit the earth, he seized them mid-air with psychokinetic precision and lowered them gently to the ground. Not even a whisper echoed from their landings.
Silence remained absolute.
The bodies now lay scattered in perfect stillness—each one a mark of lethal efficiency. Inoiki didn't pause to admire the result. This was just the beginning.
He moved on.
Another sector, another shadowed alleyway. Again, he unleashed the fragments. Again, forty to fifty enemy shinobi fell in moments—none even aware that death had already found them.
Within half an hour, Inoiki had eliminated over 200 rogue ninjas—nearly half of the force occupying the village. He operated like a ghost—unseen, unheard, unstoppable.
But finally, the pattern broke.
The sudden silence in certain sectors, the absence of patrols, the unresponsive outposts—it began to register. Somewhere in the chain of command, someone realized something was very wrong.
The abnormality had been noticed.
----
Want to get daily updates and read chapters on a daily basis? Then join my Patreon!
Patreon Link: https://www.p@treon.com/Hkj822
Join Discord Link: https://discord.gg/P3eXz2Er