Once again, Ryusei’s clone created even more sensory-purposed shadow clones the moment it arrived, scattering them across the Land of Rivers like a net.

Days passed as they carefully mapped the country, slipping past both Suna and Konoha sensors.

Every front line was charted, every patrol line memorized, and every strong presence noted.

The pattern was almost identical to what he’d seen at the Kiri front.

Suna was pressing slowly, inch by inch, grinding Konoha back over time.

And as for the Hyūga? The reality didn’t surprise him.

Every Main Branch member was guarded by at least five Side Branch shinobi, a walking wall of expendables around each pampered heir.

They rarely risked themselves on the front.

All under the guise of “protecting the clan’s treasure”.

Even when they did, they clung to the rear guard like precious porcelain, letting their attendants bleed in their place.

When the pressure grew too sharp, more than one Main Branch jōnin had abandoned his guard, forcing a Side Branch to stay behind and die, buying them time.

They weren’t weak in raw ability, after all; they were full of jonin and even elite jonin; their unrestrained bloodline was too powerful for that, but their combat instincts were soft, dulled by decadence.

They reminded pampered children of successful parents, brittle despite their bloodline.

This made finding an opening infuriating. Days passed, and still no truly isolated target showed itself.

His sensory net expanded, clones stationed like silent spiders, but the Hyūga cage was always intact.

Yet while he searched, another presence constantly needled at the edge of his awareness.

The strongest aura on the entire front. Female. Quasi-Kage level.

Pakura. The Heat Haze.

Even without seeing her, he could tell.

Her chakra and powers also carried a distinct frequency, a sharp and searing pattern that his sensory perception registered like an unmistakable fingerprint.

Against her, even Hiashi Hyūga, Konoha’s commander here, another Quasi-Kage, would only be a match in reputation.

And Pakura wasn’t even the true head.

Through silent probing into the minds of lesser shinobi, Ryusei confirmed what he suspected.

Sunagakure’s overall command rested with Chiyo, now nearing sixty, still as sharp as ever.

Her brother, Ebizō, was also present, his threads of chakra slicing and binding, capable of disrupting enemy movements entirely.

As for Chiyo herself, her aura wasn’t overwhelming alone, but her puppets made the difference.

Those puppets were her true power, and with them, her reach could stretch to the level of a Quasi-Kage as well.

Surprisingly, Ryusei also realized that Sasori was still here, operating openly on this very front as just another Sunagakure shinobi.

At sixteen, the boy had already earned the nickname of “Red Sand”, due to leaving blood trails of his enemies, and was praised as one of Suna’s brightest young talents.

But Ryusei knew the truth.

The Third Kazekage was already gone.

Likely poisoned, assassinated by him, and turned into a ‘human puppet’. Rasa, another weak Quasi-Kage at best, now wore the Kazekage title.

Which meant Sasori’s crime had gone unnoticed, or worse, deliberately covered up.

Perhaps Chiyo had shielded him; perhaps the village was simply too blind to see.

Either way, Sasori was still lingering here, which meant he had some deeper purpose.

Otherwise, an individual like him would have vanished from the battlefield already, not that he had any loyalty to his village.

By Ryusei’s estimation, Sasori on his own was already at the level of high or elite jonin.

And if he brought out that Kazekage puppet, even quietly, his strength could perhaps rise to Quasi-Kage in an instant.

Ryusei catalogued it all, filing away strengths and weaknesses.

Pakura, Hiashi, Chiyo, Ebizō, Sasori.

This front was stacked with names that mattered.

‘There is no One-Tail Jinchuriki. He probably stayed in the village. But it makes sense, after all, Suna was shown to have the most problems with controlling their Jinchuriki out of all.’

But just as he was preparing to finally pick and strike at some Main Branch Hyūga, one of his suppressed clones caught something else.

The thing that made Ryusei pause was exactly that: two such individuals crossing paths.

Pakura’s division was pushing forward in force, leading a large incursion straight into Konoha’s lines.

And among the companies reinforcing her… was Sasori’s.

Ryusei’s narrow eyes gleamed faintly.

“This is what I was waiting for.”

The bigger the chaos, the easier it would be to take what he wanted.

With a sharp flicker of hand seals, he dispersed his net of clones, pulling all but one back.

The closest one to that incursion. One was enough.

He rebalanced the flow of all his chakra back into it.

***

The battlefield raged around them, but at the center of the storm, Pakura and Sasori fought side by side, carving through Konoha’s ranks like two blades of the same scythe.

Her Scorch Release burst outward in burning orbs, turning men to desiccated husks in seconds.

Sasori’s puppets swept clean the rest, their hidden weapons slashing and poisoning with ruthless efficiency.

Together, they looked unstoppable.

And then, in a single breath, everything shifted.

Just as Sunagakure’s victory seemed slowly assured, and Pakura with Sasori and a handful of Suna shinobi found themselves relatively isolated, for a moment, Sasori’s fingers shifted, an all-too-familiar motion she had watched thousands of times before.

His chakra lines flared outward, but this time, the threads weren’t aimed at the last Konoha enemy.

They lanced toward her.

Pakura’s eyes widened.

Her instincts screamed, and she twisted, chakra flaring, her body almost shimmering with the heat of her release.

Most threads sizzled away before reaching her. Almost.

One slipped past.

A single poisoned filament nicked her shoulder, sinking into flesh.

Her breath hitched, shock flashing across her face.

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t believe it.

“You…” she muttered, voice low, disbelieving. “Sasori?”

He stood calmly before her, boyish face expressionless, puppet-like eyes cold.

Around them, a handful of Suna shinobi shifted their stances, not to defend her, but to guard the perimeter, blocking anyone from seeing too closely.

Their gazes never met hers.

It was too rehearsed. Too clean.

Her chest tightened, not just from the creeping burn of poison, but from realization.

“So,” she whispered, teeth grinding.

Her molten orbs of chakra flickered higher, scorching the air.

“This was planned. The others… pretending not to notice… guarding the edges. This could only be ordered from the very top.”

Her voice sharpened, anger cracking through.

“Chiyo-sama, the Commander. And even… Lord Rasa, the Kazekage?”

The word burned more than the poison.

Sasori’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, more like a curl of mockery.

“You really are sharp, Pakura. I wondered if you’d figure it out before the venom did its work.”

Her amber eyes blazed, heat spilling outward in a furious wave.

“Why? I fought for Sunagakure. I gave everything! Previously, just against Iwa, I led and won us great victories! I forced them to the table, made them respect us more, and gave us a truce when we should have been crushed, allowing us to focus more on Konoha here!”

Sasori’s gaze didn’t waver.

His voice was soft, clinical, detached.

“Exactly. You shone too brightly. Too much fame, too much adoration from the villagers, in such a short amount of time, since this war started. The ‘Hero of Sunagakure’, more beloved than the newly crowned Kazekage himself. You obviously couldn’t be allowed to continue now against the Konoha as well. Really, blame yourself for lacking political vision. Any Kage would have seen you as the greatest rival… and cut you down.”

The words dug into her chest like poisoned blades.

Pakura’s pulse thundered in her ears.

“So… this is only about Rasa?” Her voice cracked with rage. “His pride? His fear of being overshadowed? But I never had ambitions! I never sought power, only to defend our village during these most dangerous times!”

Sasori tilted his head, threads twitching idly, ready to strike again.

“Rasa is a great successor noble from the Kazekage clan. His clan has ruled since the village was founded. He cannot afford a shadow greater than his own, nor will he tolerate it. And he has every bit of influence needed to make you appear as another casualty in this war as well. And Chiyo, my grandmother? She understands better than anyone, villages survive by culling even their brightest lights if they burn too far out of line.”

Her fists clenched, chakra spiraling violently, forming multiple searing orbs. Her expression twisted with rage and betrayal.

“You’re telling me legendary Lady Chiyo, the woman who raised half this village’s shinobi, really agreed to this?”

“She gave me the tools,” Sasori said simply. “Even this special poison. Mixed thanks to the council, refined, perfected, Sunagakure’s finest teamwork. You should be honored, Pakura. It took the village’s entire leadership to decide how to put you down.”

Her eyes burned hotter, fury pouring into her Scorch Release until the orbs pulsed white-hot, drying the very air around them.

“You twisted little coward,” she spat. “I thought… I thought I was helping you rise as a younger comrade… And all the while you were just waiting to stab me in the back?”

Sasori’s face remained still, only his eyes gleaming faintly. “Comrade? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re strong, Pakura, no doubt. Strong enough to sense betrayal even at the last second. But strength without power means nothing. You fought for the village. I fight for myself.”

The poison spread deeper now, her limbs growing heavy even as her heat flared higher, fighting to burn it out.

She staggered slightly but forced herself upright, orbs circling like miniature suns.

Her tone cracked like steel on stone: “If Sunagakure shines so dimly that it fears its own light… then it deserves the darkness it drowns in!”

The nearby Suna shinobi flinched but didn’t move.

They held their posts, guarding the perimeter, refusing to meet her eyes.

Sasori’s lips finally curved into a faint smile as he prepared an attack. “Then die with it.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep