Gradually, sweat began to pour from Wen Lan's body. Beads of perspiration rolled down his face, yet his movements never slowed.
Blade light carved blazing arcs through the air, as if setting the atmosphere itself alight.
One thousand swings… two thousand swings…
Even when his arms were so sore they were nearly numb, he still gritted his teeth and continued.
His clothes were soaked through with sweat, droplets splashing onto the ground and kicking up faint clouds of dust.
His gaze was sharp and focused, fixed straight ahead. Every swing of the blade felt like a duel against an invisible enemy.
His breathing grew heavy—but its rhythm never once fell into chaos.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the Flame Breathing cultivation method.
You have mastered all techniques of Flame Breathing.]
A voice echoed in Wen Lan's mind. His exhausted body immediately collapsed to the ground as he gasped for breath.
[Initiating the next stage of training…
Drawing a Breathing Style…
Draw successful.]
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the Thunder Breathing cultivation method.
Training requirement: Successfully swing your blade 500,000 times using Thunder Breathing.
Every 50,000 swings will unlock one technique of Thunder Breathing!]
Wen Lan's eyes lit up.
Thunder Breathing!
The style that could steal an entire season with just two slashes!
Especially Thunder Breathing, where Agatsuma Zenitsu once used Godspeed—stimulating the leg muscles with lightning to unleash terrifying speed in an instant.
Wen Lan had long suspected that this technique was similar to the Raikage's Lightning Release Chakra Mode, which was why he'd always wanted to research and develop his own form of ninjutsu-based taijutsu through it.
After all, the Third Raikage was a man who dared to fight the Eight-Tails head-on!
With that thought, Wen Lan sprang up from the ground, excitement blazing in his eyes.
He sat cross-legged and closed his eyes, adjusting his breathing as memories flooded into his mind. He began cultivating Thunder Breathing according to the newly implanted method.
Every Breathing Style was different—but they all led to the same destination.
With Flame Breathing as his foundation, Wen Lan quickly sensed how extraordinary Thunder Breathing was.
As the first trace of lightning flowed through his body, he felt an unprecedented sharpness surging through his blood.
The air seemed heavier. Every breath felt like inhaling electricity, his nerves pricked by needle-like pain—sharp, yet unmistakably clear.
Suppressing the discomfort, he rose slowly and lifted his blade.
The first slash fell—and a faint crackle sounded in the air, like distant thunder.
His movements grew faster and faster. His figure blurred across the clearing, lightning coiling around his body like serpents in motion.
Ten swings… a hundred swings…
Sweat and lightning intertwined, and scorch marks spread across the ground beneath him.
After indulging himself for a while, Wen Lan came to a halt. When he checked the task list, his face darkened.
Not a single one of those swings had been counted.
Clearly, his use of Thunder Breathing had been incorrect.
Calming himself, he adjusted his posture and strictly followed the cultivation method, carefully controlling his breathing rhythm with every swing.
Gradually, with each slash, the system began confirming progress.
Wen Lan's heart leapt with joy. He continued swinging, lightning growing more intense as he seemed to merge with thunder itself.
But before he reached even a thousand swings, his throat and internal pressure felt like lightning tearing through his body—agonizing.
He was forced to stop, breathing heavily.
[As expected… every Breathing Style has its own path. Though they all lead to the same end, the process is different.
When training Flame Breathing, it felt like my internal organs were burning. Only after mastering the Fifth Form did my body truly adapt.
But Thunder Breathing is different—paralysis and pain. It's like countless tiny needles stabbing into my body. One mistake, and I'll lose control.]
Wen Lan knew he couldn't continue today. Forcing further training would only injure his body—completely not worth it.
He sheathed his blade, sat cross-legged, and regulated his breathing, allowing the lightning within him to slowly disperse.
After resting for a while, he stood up, fetched a bucket of water, and jumped straight in to soak.
Even then, he didn't forget to grab a gourd and blow into it.
The icy water instantly suppressed the heat raging within him, quickly stabilizing his breathing.
Before long—
Bang!
Another gourd exploded.
Meanwhile, in the Hokage's Office, Hiruzen Sarutobi was issuing orders to an ANBU operative.
"Pulling the Uchiha back at this time will definitely breed resentment.
Have ANBU monitor the Uchiha clan from a distance. If anything unusual happens, don't approach—just report to me."
"Yes, Hokage-sir!"
"And also—"
Bang!
The office doors were flung open as Sarutobi Asuma stormed in, furious.
"Father, the Uchiha must be punished—especially that Uchiha Wen Lan! I won't—"
"Enough!" Hiruzen snapped, glaring at him.
He wasn't angry at Asuma for targeting the Uchiha—he was angry at him for speaking recklessly in the wrong setting.
There were ANBU present.
Even if he trusted his ANBU, that didn't mean they were a monolith.
Every village planted spies in others—agents who might lie dormant their entire lives. Some of them inevitably joined the ANBU.
Until they were exposed, no one could know who was a spy.
If word of internal discord leaked out and other villages tried to court the Uchiha, it would spell disaster for Konoha.
Asuma shut his mouth.
Hiruzen turned to the ANBU. "You may leave."
"Yes!"
The ANBU vanished instantly.
Hiruzen lit his pipe and took a deep drag before glaring at Asuma again.
"Defeated by a five-year-old, and you still have the nerve to lose your temper?"
"That child killed an enemy jōnin just days ago—and three chūnin on his own. Could you do that?"
Asuma clenched his fists, face burning with humiliation.
"Father… I want to go to the battlefield."
"No."
Hiruzen rejected him without hesitation.
"I must go!"
Asuma slammed both hands onto the Hokage's desk, staring straight at his father with unyielding resolve.
"In this village, everyone calls me the Hokage's son, the Hokage's son. I've heard it enough!"
"I am Sarutobi Asuma—not someone's shadow!"
"I want to prove that I can fight on the battlefield, that I can become a real ninja!"
Hiruzen studied determination in Asuma's eyes. Smoke drifted from his pipe as he fell silent for a long moment.
Finally, he let out a low sigh.
"I understand. But don't expect me to send you to any main battlefield."
Asuma's eyes lit up instantly.
He didn't need a frontline assignment—just stepping onto the battlefield was enough!
"But only after you pass the Chūnin Exams."
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