Outside Chiyo’s tent, deep within the Sunagakure military camp…

A silver-haired boy stood firm, tightly gripping his clan’s signature blade, and shouted with a voice that cut through the silence of the desert night:

“Chiyo! Come out and face me!”

“My name is Hatake Kyūjō!”

“I heard you’ve got a grudge against our Hatake clan?!”

“Perfect! I’m right here!”

— — —

Inside the tent, the moment Chiyo heard the name “Hatake,” her once-calm demeanor twisted into a storm of fury. Like a lioness awakened from slumber, she stomped her foot—and in a blur of motion, the aging kunoichi darted out from her tent like a fired arrow.

In her hand was a kunai, already slashing in the direction of the voice.

The thick leather flap of the tent tore like paper before the razor-sharp strike.

A sharp metallic clang rang out.

Kyūjō raised his sword and casually deflected her attack. Their weapons met—his still blade against her rage-driven kunai.

A contest of strength? That wasn’t even a question.

Despite still having the body of a ten-year-old boy, Kyūjō had spent a decade honing his body and mind day and night. With the awakened power of the Demon Slayer Mark, further refined by Haki and Lightning Release chakra, even someone like Chiyo, who once stood near the top of Sunagakure, wasn’t worthy to be called a rival.

Even if the Third Raikage himself—legendary for his taijutsu—appeared in front of Kyūjō, the outcome wouldn’t necessarily favor the former.

And as for swordsmanship?

Even without using Haki, there wasn’t a single shinobi in this world who could claim superiority over Hatake Kyūjō when it came to the blade.

With a slight twist of his wrist, he redirected his katana and, in one clean stroke, disarmed Chiyo—the kunai clattering to the ground.

It was overwhelming dominance—pure and undeniable.

Staring at the boy’s white hair and unmistakable Hatake features, Chiyo’s heart froze for a second.

It’s him…

As a top strategist of Sunagakure, she had memorized every detail about the Hatake clan.

Why?

To get her revenge.

And yet now, her weapon had been knocked from her hand by a ten-year-old.

But Chiyo wasn’t the type to crumble. Despite her age, she was a veteran of countless battles—and this was no time to falter, especially not in front of someone from the clan she loathed the most.

With a chilling grin and eyes full of venom, she sneered.

“Heh… So young, yet you’ve already mastered your clan’s sword style?”

“But do you really think that’s enough to act cocky in front of me?”

“Oh? So you think I’m being arrogant?” Kyūjō let out a mocking laugh, throwing his head back as if the very idea amused him.

There was no need to bring up his older brother, Hatake Sakumo, who could’ve defeated Chiyo with ease. Even Kyūjō himself—armed with just over one unit of chakra—felt zero fear standing before her.

And the grin on his face said it all: this wasn’t a child boasting, this was a predator showing his fangs.

Clicking her tongue in frustration, Chiyo raised her hands.

From her fingertips, chakra threads—too fine for the naked eye—snaked down to the ground, subtly connecting with something buried deep below.

But Kyūjō just shook his head with a faint sigh.

“Still underestimating me, huh, old hag…”

As a puppet master, Chiyo should’ve known better. Summoning threads in front of a blade master was a fatal mistake.

Kyūjō wasn’t about to let that pass.

In an instant, he charged.

His katana lit up with crackling blue lightning, buzzing like a thunderstorm in a blade.

“Sonic Lightning Blade.”

A C-rank Weapon Enchantment Ninjutsu. It channeled lightning chakra into the weapon, causing high-frequency vibrations that tore through matter with even more force than Wind Release.

In one strike, he severed every chakra thread extending from Chiyo’s fingers.

She paled.

And then—he came for her throat.

Chiyo ducked instinctively, evading the deadly arc by a breath, cursing herself for being caught off guard.

But Kyūjō gave her no time to recover.

Blade flashing, he launched into a relentless barrage—each swing precise, fast, and suffocating.

Even someone like Chiyo—veteran kunoichi, master of taijutsu—was being pushed back.

What the hell is with this kid’s swordsmanship?!

She’d fought Sakumo before. Even back then, she’d held her own with a kunai in hand.

But now, against Sakumo’s younger brother, she couldn’t even maintain a proper defense. The sword pressure alone was paralyzing.

Back then, at least she had room to breathe.

But now? There was nothing but steel and speed crashing down on her.

What kind of cursed bloodline was the Hatake family carrying?

Sakumo was already a nightmare… and now this little brother of his, barely ten, was already a monster beyond reason.

And then—disaster struck.

Kyūjō’s sword cut through her right arm, the one hidden under her long Sunagakure cloak.

A loud metallic clatter rang out.

Her arm fell to the ground—not flesh, but a modified puppet limb made of chakra-enhanced alloy.

From the severed edge, a thick cloud of purple smoke hissed out—poison.

Kyūjō frowned and leapt backward instinctively.

Not out of fear—but because he understood exactly what was happening.

That wasn’t a real injury.

She detached it herself.

The moment her severed arm touched the ground, the trap was sprung.

The sand trembled.

“White Secret Technique: The Chikamatsu Collection of Ten Puppets!”

Suddenly, ten humanoid puppets erupted from beneath the earth, each bearing a different mask, cloaked in pristine white garments. They surrounded Kyūjō in a wide circle—sealing off every exit.

Meanwhile, the severed arm was reattached to Chiyo’s shoulder with a mechanical click, drawn back by chakra threads.

Now with her trump card fully deployed, Chiyo snarled with venom.

“You enjoyed cutting off my arm, didn’t you, brat?”

“Let’s see how much you enjoy this!”

And with that, the ten Chikamatsu puppets launched forward like a storm, charging at Hatake Kyūjō from all directions.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep