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——————————————

The grenade explosion ignited the dry grass across the industrial zone, but the flames didn’t spread far. As the light began to fade, Kenichiro—who had only kicked Chiyome away and didn’t pursue—spoke up:

“Have you calmed down yet?”

No answer came.

When the flames finally died, the spot where Chiyome had landed was empty.

She had vanished again.

“Keep overusing optical camouflage like this, and even someone like you—with high neural endurance—will start slipping up. All this strain, even for you, is enough to leave cracks.”

Kenichiro’s left hand reached for another shuriken sliding from his sleeve. His gaze locked onto a seemingly empty point up and to his right.

“Your breathing, your steps… even your impatience. Every mistake gives away your position.”

He slowly raised his wakizashi.

“You still have a lot to learn. I once thought you were ready to graduate. Clearly, I was wrong.”

Just as he finished, Kenichiro’s head snapped left. His wakizashi came up and blocked a downward strike from a Mantis Blade.

Electric arcs flared, lighting both of their faces.

Without pausing, Kenichiro said coldly: “One little provocation, and you gave away your position. Have you already forgotten everything I taught you?”

Chiyome stayed silent.

Her helmet opened two ports near the jawline. With a slight tilt of her head, two senbon needles fired directly at Kenichiro’s cyberoptics.

They weren’t ordinary. These were loaded with a custom paralysis virus. If they embedded in his optics, the malware would penetrate the interface and fry his brain in seconds.

Clink!

Kenichiro had expected it. He had personally helped design the Arasaka ninja faceplate system—there was no way a trick like this would catch him off guard. With practiced ease, the kunai he had prepped flew from between his fingers, intercepting one senbon. The impact redirected the second needle’s path.

Whip.

Karl, standing just close enough, reached out and caught the second senbon that had been deflected his way.

Barely avoided a hit.

He’d gotten too into the fight—lost track of his distance. He’d wandered within eight meters of the battle. Not ideal.

Still…

The fight looked lopsided.

Karl took a few steps back, resetting to a ten-meter distance.

From an outside perspective, the gap between master and disciple was becoming crystal clear. Maybe Kenichiro simply knew her too well. To Karl, every one of Chiyome’s attacks seemed like a serious threat—yet Kenichiro parried them all effortlessly, like a live demonstration.

One side fighting to kill.

The other? Holding back. Teaching.

The outcome was already obvious.

If Karl could tell, so could they.

Realizing she was completely outmatched, Chiyome leapt backward—not to hide again, but to retreat.

A ninja doesn’t fight to the death unless protecting someone. Their way is to vanish, then strike again later.

This doctrine—etched into her bones—was executed with flawless precision. A spherical device fell from her waist and rolled.

A standard Arasaka-issued smoke bomb. The moment it touched the ground, it cracked open, releasing a smoke laced with anti-scan particulates—perfect for a clean getaway.

She had failed to kill Kenichiro in a surprise attack. Now was the time to retreat and wait for a better opportunity.

As she moved back, one thought dominated her mind:

“There is no way I’ll let a failure like him remain by Lady Hanako’s side.”

Bang.

Just as she thought it, a bullet slammed into her gut.

“Your fallback path was angled at five o’clock from your original position. It’s a habit you’ve never broken.”

Holstering the pistol he’d drawn from his waist, Kenichiro stared down at Chiyome, who had fallen and rolled under the force of the shot.

His calm expression shifted to visible disappointment.

“With skills like this… how could I ever entrust Lady Hanako’s safety to you?”

Kenichiro used blades, kunai—but when it mattered, he also used guns.

Sometimes, a firearm was just better than ninja tools.

“Ugh…”

Chiyome didn’t have a pain editor installed. Every bit of her neural capacity had been allocated to stealth and combat mods. There was no room for a luxury like pain suppression. So when the round hit, she couldn’t suppress the sharp groan that escaped her throat.

Pain was pain—but it wouldn’t stop her.

Even as she rolled away to avoid follow-up shots, she flung a handful of kunai—still attacking as she evaded.

But of course…

Kenichiro dodged them all without even trying.

With full specs of her cyberware and a deep understanding of her psychology, tactics, and techniques—there was nothing about her he didn’t know.

In the Arasaka ninja hierarchy, a disciple was like your own child.

Casually sidestepping, Kenichiro watched her brace herself and begin to rise, preparing to activate Sandevistan again for a full retreat.

Then something unexpected happened.

A phone landed beside Chiyome with a soft clatter.

“Call from Hanako.”

A voice rang out from the distance.

At that sentence, Chiyome froze.

She had assumed the phone was a bomb. She had already begun dodging. But when she heard the name…

Her body locked in place.

Kenichiro spun to look behind him—and there stood Karl, arms crossed.

“I figured Hanako might want to know what was going on, so I shot her a message. She said she’d handle it herself.”

Karl gave Kenichiro a reassuring look.

“Don’t worry. Just like you asked—I didn’t call her.”

Pause.

“But you never said I couldn’t text.”

.

.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep