As the clone was replenishing its chakra, with that fragment latched onto him symbiotically, it immediately moved toward the Daimyo’s chambers, its eyes sharp, expression darkening.

“Hiruzen… It’s really you…” Ryusei thought darkly, his mind already racing way ahead.

Through the telepathic link, he sent a pulse of warning toward his uncle, Senju Kazuo, who was the closest to him.

Kazuo reacted instantly, stepping back just in time to evade the invisible swarm.

He still couldn’t see or sense any insects, but Ryusei’s voice rang in his mind, calm yet firm.

“They’re microscopic. Undetectable to almost everyone, under most circumstances. Don’t try to find them—just move.”

Kazuo didn’t question him.

He trusted Ryusei completely.

He had witnessed firsthand the boy’s meteoric rise, the impossible blend of power and intelligence that bordered on supernatural.

At the same moment, Ryusei reached out telepathically to another of his hidden allies—Pakura.

She was also somewhere nearby, disguised as a simple palace maid, continuing the long covert mission she’d accepted all those months ago.

“Pakura,” his voice echoed in her mind, cold but controlled.

“We’re under attack. Special micro insects—coated with special toxins and undetectable by chakra. Keep a layer of Scorch Release active around you at all times. Head toward the Daimyo’s quarters now. I’ll teleport you and Uncle Kazuo both out through Katsuyu’s summoning route there. The Third Hokage himself is leading the assault this time with other Konoha elites.”

Pakura froze where she stood, her hazel eyes widening in disbelief.

Hiruzen Sarutobi himself?

Even for Konoha, this was far beyond what she expected.

A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind as she processed his words.

She had spent over half a year trapped here, pretending to be a palace servant, alone, humiliated, and restless.

She had agreed to this mission only because Ryusei had promised her something worth more than comfort: power.

Enough power to one day destroy the wretched Rasa and the Suna elders who had tried to sacrifice her due to politics.

But this long charade had tested her patience more than she had ever imagined.

Disguised as a maid, forced to smile and bow, she had endured weeks of isolation in this cursed palace.

Her beauty had drawn the attention of several high-ranking civilians, men too arrogant to understand who she really was.

Each time they got too close, she’d burned them—literally—then cursed Ryusei under her breath for forcing her into this degrading cover.

Every time, she had to sprint across the palace using Wind Body Flicker, waking his clone from its stasis to clean up the evidence before anyone noticed the scorched remains.

She had only seen him once or twice a month at most, each time when his clone also wanted to refill its chakra.

He also went to visit her at this time, almost like a routine, and see her in those humiliating clothes, to which she fumed with anger.

Every visit ended the same—banter, sharp words, and a strange warmth that followed. He’d always tease her.

“Lonely again, Pakura? It almost sounds like you miss me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she’d snap back, scowling, arms crossed. “You’re the reason I’m rotting here pretending to scrub floors.”

But before she could lose her temper completely, enraged, he’d always calm her with something different—information, progress, promises.

He told her about his ongoing experiments to harness the vitality of Senju Hashirama’s cells, explaining in unnervingly precise detail how he planned to adapt them safely.

He promised that when the time was right, he would give her that same gift first— awesome physical vitality, near limitless chakra compared to now, strength enough to crush Rasa and all of Suna’s corrupt leadership with her own hands then.

She’d still partially doubted him at first, especially during her own angry moments, but his explanations were increasingly too sharp, precise, and too scientific to dismiss anymore.

He even occasionally showed her notes and scrolls from the main body’s lab—proof that something was truly happening.

It was the only thing that kept her sanity intact during those long, empty months.

That, and the strange connection between her and this clone.

Their arguments had a rhythm, an odd comfort, something almost like friendship.

Now, hearing his voice again, calm but urgent, she felt her heart tighten—not in fear, but in a strange relief. Finally, something was happening.

She exhaled, pulled off the maid’s outer garments, and tossed them aside, revealing the sleek black shinobi tank top she had worn beneath all this time.

It clung perfectly to her athletic frame, the same attire she’d worn years ago in Sunagakure, before her betrayal, the type she liked the most.

“About damn time,” she muttered, sparks of heat dancing faintly across her skin.

Even in the chaos, she allowed herself a faint smirk.

If this was how it ended, at least she wouldn’t die scrubbing floors for some decrepit nobles.

She felt Ryusei’s telepathic voice again, steady and direct. “Move faster. I’ll teleport you and Uncle Kazuo both to the Slug Forest alongside me. Don’t hesitate.”

Pakura’s hand brushed a strand of hair from her face as she began moving swiftly down the corridor, her chakra simmering like a furnace under her skin. “Fine. But you’d better keep that promise, Ryusei,” she muttered aloud. “You owe me more than one life.”

She didn’t doubt him anymore—not after everything.

And though she didn’t say it aloud, she knew what his silence meant.

The five other Senju were already gone.

Ryusei hadn’t said it directly, but she could feel it through the link, the calm acceptance behind his tone.

She already knew everything about this project, obviously, or she never would have agreed to risk her life and waste so much time on it.

She also now fully knew Ryusei hadn’t ‘tricked’ her.

It became even clearer that her presence here had been very essential, from the beginning, to her now, once it turned out that even Hiruzen, the Professor, himself personally was leading this anticipated assault.

It was now evident that Ryusei had never intended to simply waste her time or humiliate her by forcing her into that degrading ‘mission’; her role and every move had also obviously been part of a calculated necessity on his part.

Meanwhile, at the same time, the clone didn’t feel particularly sorrowful about the five who had fallen.

In his mind, he had given them a real chance to rise again, to reclaim their clan’s lost glory, to reach the peak beside him.

But fate hadn’t allowed it.

It wasn’t that he had planned to sacrifice them before; even he had simply underestimated the depth and precision of Hiruzen’s plan this time, and failed to anticipate it completely.

Even for him, it was unexpected.

Ryusei had always thought in game-theory terms, what would he do if he commanded a village’s entire resources?

Could Hiruzen have mastered Edo Tensei sooner than expected?

That possibility was always part of his calculus.

Still, he had never imagined they’d resurrect Yoji Aburame now.

The moment he felt those distinct insects near Kazuo, he once saw and barely survived against, that scared him to this day partially, he knew they must have preserved some of Yoji’s genetic remains when they hunted him down back on the Kumo front, even though his body had been smashed to pieces.

He also hadn’t foreseen how covertly they could move, nor the level of fuinjutsu they’d deployed, or that someone had managed to field a Flying Raijin–style formation so quickly.

All of it surprised him, and in that instant he realized how badly he’d miscalculated, why those five were probably doomed.

Still, his thoughts stayed sharp, unwavering.

The living could mourn later.

Right now, the only goal was to escape and save what could be saved from Ryusei’s cards.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep