The forest five miles south of the Mist-Veil boundary was quiet—too quiet.
Ren led the four-man Kazeshira scout team through the upper canopy, his light steps making no sound against the thick oak branches.
To his left and right, his squad members kept tight formation, their eyes scanning the underbrush.
Ren suddenly held up a flat hand.
The team instantly froze, melting into the tree trunks.
“What is it?” whispered the senior scout behind him.
“I don’t see or hear anything.”
Ren didn’t rely on sight.
His skin pricked with a subtle, unnerving shift in atmospheric density forty yards ahead—not a natural breeze, but a rhythmic, held breath displacing the air around a thick patch of wild ferns.
Three targets, Ren analyzed quietly, feeling the ambient air pressure around their bodies.
Low profile, heavy iron gear.
Mercenaries paid to watch the trade trail.
He drew a single steel kunai from his hip, flashing three quick hand signals to his team: Flank, silence, no chakra flares.
Ren dropped from the branch like a falling leaf, using a tiny, conservative wisp of Wind chakra at his ankles to cushion his descent.
He landed silently in the soft mud behind the central bush, right behind an armored mercenary crouching with a loaded crossbow. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Before the man even registered the displacement of air, Ren’s left arm locked around his chin, pulling it backward while his right hand drove the steel kunai clean through the base of his skull.
Thwack.
The man went limp without a single cry.
Simultaneously, the two elder Kazeshira scouts dropped on the remaining mercenaries, their wind-coated daggers severing throats in a synchronized, fluid motion.
Within three seconds, the ambush party was dead, their blood soaking into the moss.
“Clean,” the senior scout muttered, wiping his blade.
“Your air-sense is sharper than the seniors’, Ren.”
Ren crouched beside the mercenary leader, pulling a crumpled parchment from the man’s inner coat.
He scanned the crude map, his eyes narrowing at the fresh red ink stamped over the nearby border town.
“They weren’t just watching the trail,” Ren said, holding up the parchment.
“A Hagoromo remnant force has set up a forward outpost at the river crossing two miles south.
They’ve blockaded the trade route completely.”
The senior scout grimaced. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“A full outpost?
We don’t have the manpower to clear a heavy fortification, Ren.
We should fall back and report to Elder Gen.”
Ren looked south through the dense treeline.
He felt his moderate chakra pool humming steadily inside his chest—warmed up, fully recovered, and ready.
He didn’t want a massive war, but clearing a small mercenary outpost would net him valuable combat experience, strategic resources, and crucial attributes before this simulation ended.
“We don’t need to destroy the outpost,” Ren said, his blue eyes cold and calculating.
“We just need to make them think a larger force is hunting them.
We strike at dusk, bleed their sentries, and burn their supply tent.”
He checked the edge of his trench knife, his Kazeshira skin already reading the distant wind carrying the scent of smoke from the river.
“Let’s go earn our salt.