On the opposite rooftop, the Anbu agent codenamed “Cat Mask” was like a heartless recording machine, his charcoal pencil flying across the page.
From the route taken into the courtyard to the landing point at the base of the wall, and then to crouching down to search the wooden corridor—everything was recorded with crystal clarity.
“Cat Mask” had no intention of intervening.
As a high-level wage earner for Konoha, he knew full well what it meant to “obey orders and follow instructions.” The Third Hokage’s directive was to “continue observation.” Translated, that meant: Keep your eyes open and watch, and even if the sky falls down there, don’t interfere.
In the courtyard, the cleaner smoothed out the footprints and felt his way to the broken wooden corridor.
He reached out to pull at the strand of black fiber hanging there, but it wouldn’t budge.
The moisture from the rain had caused the fabric scrap and the wooden splinter to lock tightly together.
But this couldn’t stump a professional elite from Root.
He reached back, pulled out a fingernail-sized micro-blade, and flicked it along the base of the splinter.
Snap.
A small piece of wood with the fiber attached was cleanly shaved off and placed into a sealed bag.
The maneuver was incredibly smooth, but under the moonlight…
That exposed fresh wooden cross-section, compared to the blackened and brittle old rotting boards around it, stood out like it had “I have no silver buried here” written on its forehead.
“Thump!” Just then, a dull sound suddenly came from inside the room, as if someone had rolled over in their sleep and bumped their head against the wall.
Immediately after, a trembling voice filled with a thick, crying tone sounded from behind the door.
“I don’t know anything…” “Please, don’t come anymore, really, please don’t come…” The voice was intermittent, making one’s scalp tingle.
The cleaner froze, holding his breath for a few seconds.
The door didn’t open, and no one inside continued to approach.
He quickly filled in the blanks: the kid was in a state of extreme stress and had woken himself up from a nightmare.
For a pure weakling who had almost lost his head two nights in a row, collapsing and begging for mercy at the slightest disturbance—was that reasonable?
It was absolutely reasonable!
This persona, the cowardice was as steady as an old dog.
The cleaner stopped dawdling and swiftly erased the needle-hole marks on the cuffs of the old jacket.
However, before retreating, he casually pulled off a stunt that could be called “drawing a snake and adding feet.” He pulled a standard-issue Uchiha Kunai from his pocket and planted it with great precision into the mud at the base of the wall, leaving only half of the handle exposed.
The angle, the force—it perfectly fabricated the illusion of “some energetic Uchiha youth sparring and failing to retrieve their ninja tool.” This was framing.
Forcibly dumping the blame for an “external intrusion” onto “internal clan strife.” Professional, it was just so damn professional.
So professional that “Cat Mask,” who was peeping from the shadows, wanted to give him a thumbs up.
After finishing this textbook-level after-sales service, the cleaner vaulted over the eastern courtyard wall.
As an elite, he would never fall into the same pit twice, so he didn’t take the western route from last night.
Instead, he retreated north along the eaves.
This tactical positioning was impeccable.
It was just a pity that he clearly didn’t realize the density of Konoha’s surveillance tonight.
“Cat Mask” on the west side had filmed his “entry animation.” Meanwhile, on a high tower 150 meters to the northeast, another Anbu agent codenamed “Hawk Mask” had just raised his binoculars and seen his “exit maneuvers” clearly.
“Hawk Mask” glanced at the direction the person was fleeing, raised an eyebrow, and lowered his head to write furiously in his small notebook.
“Retreat direction does not match Uchiha patrol routes.” “Target is not Anbu personnel, origin to be investigated.” Good grief.
One entry, one exit—dual camera angles had directly welded the route into a closed loop.
This was no longer “suspected approach,” but definitely “someone entered the house to do business!” This brother from Root thought he was cleaning up his mess without anyone knowing.
Little did he know, he was basically holding a megaphone, providing a high-definition, uncensored commentary on the entire process of Yuya’s staged scene!
At the same time, in the alley outside the courtyard wall, the uncle next door, sporting two dark circles under his eyes, pushed open a crack in his window while grumbling.
Just as he poked half his head out, he happened to see a black shadow “whoosh” right over the wall of Yuya’s house.
The uncle rubbed the sleep from his eyes and was instantly furious.
“Are you never going to stop?!” “What on earth is hidden in that little lunatic’s crappy courtyard that he’s doing parkour in the middle of the night every day?” He couldn’t be bothered to meddle, but after daybreak, he had to go to the Konoha Military Police Force and make a scene!
Not for anything else, purely because he’d been woken up two nights in a row, and a working man’s grumpiness in the morning is quite significant!
Shifting the view back inside the room, Yuya was wrapped up like a caterpillar, his stomach aching from holding back laughter under the covers.
Actually, from the second the cleaner vaulted over the wall, the system’s radar had dinged and woken him up.
But he remained as steady as Mount Tai; he didn’t peek, didn’t record, and definitely didn’t plan to counterattack.
His only action was to time it perfectly with the moment the other party was shaving the wooden board, contributing a tearful, “collapsing and begging for mercy.” This could be called killing two birds with one stone.
First, reinforce his persona as a pure weakling to prevent backstabbing.
Second, wake up the uncle next door, who already had light sleep.
Hearing a neighbor shouting “Don’t come anymore” in the middle of the night, a normal person would definitely think the guy was having a mental breakdown.
But if you added the black shadow slipping over the wall?
Then that breakdown instantly turned into ironclad evidence of “forced persecution by an intruder in the middle of the night!” Once the movement outside completely subsided, Yuya poked half his head out like a thief and opened a crack in the window to look out.
Under the moonlight, the brand-new cross-section that had been forcefully shaved out on the wooden corridor was dazzlingly bright.
Yuya almost laughed out loud on the spot.
Yesterday, the report was “accidentally broke a water bucket.” Ask yourself, what kind of good person falls down and manages to accidentally shave such a smooth blade cut into a wooden corridor?
This isn’t called cleaning up traces; this is called “the secret is right here!” The new flaws left behind by forcibly cleaning up a mess are often more damning than the original traces.
What does this prove?
It proves that someone really did come yesterday and lost something, and came back tonight specifically to destroy evidence!
Yuya lowered the curtain with satisfaction and slid back into his covers.
In his mind, the system’s semi-transparent light screen instantly lit up.
[System Prompt: Mission progress skyrocketed!] [Key observation chain assembled: The helpful neighbor next door witnessed a black shadow vaulting the wall!] [Current progress: 79%!] [Unsettled Reason: The evidence chain has locked onto “external intruder,” but because the Anbu marked the identity as “to be investigated,” the finger has not yet been pointed directly at Root.] 79%.
Just that final kick to the door left.
In the darkness, Yuya grinned, smiling like a fox that had stolen an old hen.
It’s really not that he’s targeting anyone, but Root’s after-sales service this time was truly absolute!
Come once, leave a crime scene.
Come twice, deliver a high-definition, closed-loop evidence chain.
Broaden your horizons; if things continue at this rate of self-sabotage, if that old dog Danzo sends someone else over, he’ll probably be able to help him settle the mission on the spot.
This, right here, is what you call a professional team, hardcore feeding!