On the other side of the battlefield, Ashina Uzumaki now faced Hiruzen and Mito, who had, through the Edo Tensei’s imperfect resurrection, finally regained her own personality again, as Danzo was letting go of his control.

Ashina’s sealing chains had changed since his revival.

They now pulsed with molten red energy, infused with chakra he had pre-sealed from the Four-Tails’ lava release Ryusei gifted him—thick, heavy, and burning with destructive power.

Mito’s chains, by contrast, glowed in golden-red arcs, interwoven with Fire and Lightning chakra to reinforce her Adamantine Sealing Chains.

Their clash was monstrous.

Ashina’s chains twisted and struck like living serpents, keeping both Mito’s and Hiruzen’s attacks at bay.

Hiruzen hurled combinations of elemental jutsu in rapid succession—fire and wind, earth and lightning, even water bursts summoned from thin air—but Ashina countered all of them.

His chains deflected, constricted, and even devoured chakra itself when needed.

Rage burned deep in his voice.

To him, both of his opponents were symbols of betrayal.

It had been under Hiruzen’s reign that Konoha had deceived and abandoned Uzushiogakure.

And Mito, still alive back then, had sent no warning, no message, no help.

Instead, Konoha had bartered away Uzumaki lives in exchange for Kushina, their next Jinchūriki, letting their homeland fall to the other Great Nations’ slaughter.

To Ashina, Mito was no longer kin.

She was a traitor who had abandoned her blood for her husband and his dream of a false “village of peace.”

And Hiruzen, he was the architect of it all, the man whose hands, to him, were dipped in the blood of every murdered Uzumaki.

Yet even as fury coursed through him, more than a century of experience kept his movements measured.

His strikes were sharp, efficient, and precise, every blow controlled despite the hate that fueled it.

His words, however, were merciless.

“You call yourselves a village of unity,” Ashina roared, his chains smashing through Hiruzen’s wall of mud and flame.

“But you feed on betrayal! You tricked your allies and slaughtered your kin. You stole our blood for your weapons and left our children to burn!”

Hiruzen parried the next strike with Enma, his face twisted into his familiar mask of moral authority. “You misunderstand history, Ashina,” he said gravely. “We couldn’t have known exactly when the attack would come, nor that it would be so complete. We had no way or power to aid Uzushiogakure in time.”

It was a well-practiced justification, one he’d probably told himself countless times.

Outwardly calm, inwardly untouched by guilt, only preserving his self-image as the noble Hokage who did what was “necessary.”

Mito, however, faltered for a moment as Ashina’s words tore through the air.

Her heart clenched with something she hadn’t felt in decades—shame.

“I didn’t know, Ashina,” she said, her voice strained, though her chains didn’t stop moving.

“I swear to you, I didn’t know what was coming. I was also already dying then, my strength gone. I couldn’t warn anyone.”

But inside, she knew that wasn’t the full truth. She had been alive long enough to sense something was wrong back then, to hear whispers, to suspect, and yet she’d said nothing.

She’d chosen silence because silence was easier than facing what her new home had done.

And after Uzushiogakure’s fall, she had buried the guilt deep inside, telling herself she’d done it for Hashirama’s dream, for the village they’d built together.

Now, hearing Ashina call her a traitor, she couldn’t even deny it entirely.

Still, she pushed the feeling down.

This wasn’t the time for guilt.

The man standing before her wasn’t the gentle senior and older cousin she remembered from back in the Uzushiogakure during her early youth —he was a revenant consumed by vengeance, his chakra vibrating with murderous hatred for everything connected to Konoha.

He had to be stopped.

Mito steadied her breathing, her face hardening. “You’ve fallen too far, Ashina,” she said quietly. “You want to destroy everything he and I built. I won’t let you.”

Hiruzen cast a quick glance at Mito, hiding the flicker of smug satisfaction that crept into his thoughts.

She was still so easy to steer. Even in death, she clung to ideals he could twist with a few carefully chosen words.

“He’s also currently protecting a very dangerous criminal, don’t forget,” Hiruzen said smoothly, his tone filled with false righteousness.

“A traitor who’s been poisoning Konoha from within. You know what that means, Lady Mito.”

Mito’s eyes narrowed, her chains trembling for a moment as emotion rippled through her chakra.

She didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, she watched Ashina, hers and Hashirama’s once-revered elder, and ally whom they stayed in ceremonial contact with for a long time, now glaring at her with bottomless hatred, and felt the weight of what Hiruzen had just said.

At last, she spoke softly but firmly. “It means I must protect the Leaf. Even if it breaks what’s left of my heart. Even if we were partially wrong, Hiruzen.”

Her voice cracked for an instant, betraying a sliver of sorrow before her expression hardened again.

“If this is the world you’ve chosen, Ashina Uzumaki… then so be it. I’ll face you as an Uzumaki—and end you as the First Hokage’s wife.”

Ashina’s chains flared, splitting into dozens of blazing strands that filled the sky like fiery serpents. “No,” he said, his voice low and sharp.

“You end here. Both of you. For every Uzumaki who died screaming under your silence.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Ryusei was still locked in a fast, vicious fight against Sakumo, all while running countless mental calculations on how to seal him as quickly as possible.

Destroying him physically was pointless—the Edo body would only rebuild itself.

However, the constant roar of battle, Ryusei’s sensory field extended outward, brushing against every chakra signature across the field.

He coordinated telepathically with his allies, keeping track of each area amidst the chaos.

Then, in the middle of it, something changed.

He caught it first, an abrupt fluctuation of chakra in the distance, one that didn’t belong to anyone currently visible. Danzo.

But before Ryusei could react, it was too late.

Instead of targeting him directly, Danzo appeared near Kiyomi, who was fighting alongside Kanae against Shinsuke.

Cloaked under his Dustless Bewildering Cover, he emerged from behind her, a kunai in hand.

Kiyomi sensed him only in the very last moment, twisting her body just enough to avoid a fatal blow.

The blade sliced across her side, missing the vitals but drawing blood.

She barely caught her breath before Danzo followed up mercilessly, exhaling a volley of sharp, pressurized water and wind projectiles from his mouth while using Earth Release to bind her legs to the ground.

She couldn’t move in time.

Kanae shouted her name, but it was too late.

Ryusei’s chakra flared.

In an instant, he vanished, teleporting through one of his hidden slug fragments, which was nearest to Kiyomi.

He appeared directly in front of Kiyomi, intercepting the entire barrage with his body.

His reinforced shins and forearms crossed before him, absorbing the projectiles as they exploded against him.

Blood splattered, steam hissed from his skin as his chakra boiled violently to heal the wounds.

“Damn,” he thought bitterly, “I should’ve known he’d target her first…”

It made perfect sense.

Kanae’s Byakugan gave her superior awareness and direct vision; she could detect a hidden threat from all directions, the best.

Renjiro was physically tougher, a bit stronger than Kiyomi now, and his reflexes and endurance made him harder to kill instantly.

But Kiyomi—an Uchiha—was Danzo’s favorite prey.

He had always fixated on them, both out of hatred and twisted fascination.

Targeting her wasn’t just tactical—it was personal.

Why would he target someone else first?

Because they were the easier targets, more exposed than Ryusei himself was, and far more useful as leverage.

Even if he was the biggest objective.

Hurting them meant hurting him indirectly, breaking his rhythm, forcing him to act on instinct instead of calculation.

And it worked.

As Ryusei shielded her now, his movement slowed for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Sakumo, still tracking him relentlessly, carried by the wind around him, to take the opening.

From behind, a storm of sword light erupted.

Blades of compressed chakra and lightning cut through the air, piercing Ryusei’s back and side in rapid succession.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep