On the Ultimate Baiting Strategy of a Loser 11: Chapter 11: Physical Engagement!
On the Ultimate Baiting Strategy of a Loser Yuya read that popular comment over and over three times.
The core logic was very simple.
There was no need to forge some earth-shattering secret order.
No need to run to Hokage Rock and hang a banner.
And definitely no need to send a funeral wreath to the Root base.
He only needed to let a “Key Observer” confirm one thing— That people from Root had privately contacted an Uchiha clansman on the eve of the clan’s extermination.
And he himself was the most suitable “contact target.” Danzo had already sent people.
This was not a guess.
It was written clearly in the system’s periodic assessment—”Root Probing.” In other words, he didn’t have to do anything; Root would deliver themselves to his door.
The problem was, how to make this contact seen, recorded, or at least leave traces for a third party.
[Ding!
System mission generated.] [Mission Objective: Within twelve hours, have at least one Key Observer confirm that “Root has contacted the host.”] [Reward: Unknown.
Quality linked to completion rate.] [Failure Penalty: Embarrassment value overflow, forced to “recite a love letter in public.”] Yuya looked at the last line, and the corner of his mouth twitched on the spot.
Compared to the pain of Tsukuyomi, this punishment was indeed much gentler.
But the problem was— The recipient of the love letter was highly likely to be Itachi again.
If he had to go through another social-death confession, Itachi would probably drag him from the “observation list” directly into the “kill-on-sight list.” The mission had to be completed.
But who was the “Key Observer”?
The system didn’t say.
Yuya sat cross-legged on the tatami, tapping his fingers on his knees one by one.
Itachi?
It was possible.
But Itachi had just been here last night; it was unlikely he would personally watch him again in such a short time.
Anbu?
The Third Hokage had already approved “postponed disposal,” so the Anbu surveillance intensity should drop by a notch.
Konoha Military Police Force?
Itachi had just warned him not to go to the Konoha Military Police Force again.
Besides, that bunch looked at him like he was a plague god.
The last option—the clan’s patrol team.
The Uchiha’s own patrol team, although not reporting directly to Itachi, would have their patrol records summarized to the Konoha Military Police Force.
And the anomaly reports from the Konoha Military Police Force would definitely eventually flow into Itachi’s intelligence channels.
This was an indirect route.
But it was reliable enough.
As long as the patrol team discovered traces of an “outsider having been here” in his courtyard afterwards, and these traces pointed to Root.
Then the mission would have a chance to be completed.
Yuya stood up and walked to the window to take a look outside.
The sky had just brightened completely.
The alley was empty.
The atmosphere in the clan grounds was even more oppressive than yesterday; even the old man who usually got up early to empty the chamber pot was huddled inside his house and wouldn’t come out.
Good.
Let’s get to work.
He pushed open the back door, crouched in the courtyard, and started “tidying up.” Step one, the dirt ground.
On the west side of the courtyard, near the base of the wall, there was a small patch of exposed soil.
It had rained two days ago, and it was still damp.
Yuya carried half a bucket of water and splashed it over, pretending to water the flowers.
The soil quickly became soft.
Anyone who climbed over the west wall would leave footprints when landing.
Step two, the wooden corridor.
There was a stretch of old wooden corridor between the main room and the storage room.
Three of the planks were in disrepair due to age.
One of them was especially loose and would “creak” when stepped on.
Yuya crouched down to check it.
Only half of the nail remained.
With a little force, it would break.
He didn’t fix it.
Not only did he not fix it, he also pushed the two planks next to it—which looked sturdy enough—slightly askew.
In this way, the entire stretch of wooden corridor looked dilapidated.
That truly loose plank wouldn’t seem deliberate.
Step three, the storage room.
There was an old seal on the door frame.
It was pasted by the original owner a long time ago; the paper had yellowed and curled at the edges, but it was still barely sticking.
Yuya used his fingernail to gently press the edges of the seal flat.
It looked intact.
But as soon as the door was pushed open, the seal would definitely break.
Step four, the clothesline.
He untied one end of the clothesline that had originally hung in the center of the courtyard and re-tied it to the wooden post next to the courtyard gate.
The rope hung across the inside of the courtyard gate, about 1.5 meters high.
Two washed old coats and a towel were hanging on it.
Anyone sneaking in quickly from the main gate would disturb the clothes if they weren’t careful.
If they noticed, they would have to spend an extra half-second to go around.
And that half-second pause was enough for the clothes to brush against something on the other person.
Medicinal powder, soil, scent, or even clothing fibers.
After finishing these four steps, Yuya retreated under the corridor and looked at the courtyard again from the perspective of an ordinary person.
Broken.
Poor.
Messy.
Perfect.
This was not a trap.
This was life.
It was the doghouse that a loser—whose parents were dead, who had failed three times, and who was despised by the entire clan—should have.
Not a single arrangement exceeded the scope of “too lazy to tidy up.” A professional Ninja would only come to one conclusion after coming in— This kid was dirt poor; his courtyard was cleaner than his face.
Of course, “clean” in the sense of his wallet.
But precisely because this was a doghouse, traces of outsiders would be exceptionally conspicuous.
Yuya dug out an old, chipped wooden basin from the storage room and crouched by the courtyard gate, holding it.
Then he started sanding the rim of the basin with sandpaper, on and off.
From the alley entrance, it just looked like a good-for-nothing slacker fixing junk.
As expected.
In less than an hour, the sound of heavy boots came from the alley entrance.
Two Uchiha patrol members with swords walked by from a distance.
One of them glanced over here.
Yuya immediately shrank his neck and buried his face behind the wooden basin.
Just like a mouse that had its tail stepped on.
The patrol member sneered and whispered something to his companion.
The two quickened their pace and walked away.
Very good.
The image of “a loser fixing junk at home” had already been seen by the patrol team.
If there was an anomaly in the courtyard tonight, and they recalled this scene from the day, they would only be more convinced— That someone of Uchiha Yuya’s caliber could never have staged this himself.
The sun sank lower bit by bit.
Yuya put the wooden basin back in the storage room and cooked a bowl of clear, watery noodles for dinner.
Then he turned off the lights early.
The room was pitch black.
Only the moonlight leaking through the window crack pulled a thin line across the floor.
He lay on the tatami, eyes closed, breathing steadily.
But the system countdown in his brain was ticking second by second.
[Mission Remaining: 11 hours 02 minutes.] Outside the courtyard, a crow perched on the eaves suddenly fluttered its wings and flew away.
Yuya’s breathing didn’t change at all.
But his consciousness was completely awake.
A crow wouldn’t be startled and fly away in the night for no reason.
Three seconds later, a line of small text popped up in the top right corner of the system interface.
[Notice: Unknown contact source detected entering a 100-meter range.] It’s here.