Chapter 87: A Trail of Blood and Arrogance

The journey to the Land of Wind was a blur of shifting sands and searing heat. Ren moved with a single-minded purpose, the system’s mission and the promise of a massive point payout burning in his mind brighter than the sun overhead. He arrived at the designated border town as dusk bled into night, the sky a deep indigo punctuated by the first, cold stars.

The town was silent, its gates shut, a lonely outpost against the vast desert. A cold wind whistled through the deserted streets, carrying grains of sand that stung the skin.

*Orochimaru said there would be a contact here,* Ren thought, his Sharingan automatically activating to pierce the deepening gloom. *One of his snakes lying in wait. They should recognize me. The question is, will they show themselves?*

He didn’t have to wait long. A faint rustle, the slightest displacement of air—signs imperceptible to any normal shinobi—telegraphed a presence. Someone was watching from the shadows of a crumbling wall. Ren sensed no immediate killing intent, only a lazy, observational curiosity.

*There.*

“Show yourself,” Ren commanded, his voice cutting through the silent night like a knife. He received no response, only the continued, arrogant feeling of being watched.

Annoyance flared within him. He had no patience for games, especially not from underlings.

“Fine. You prefer to do this the hard way,” he muttered.

His hands flew through a sequence of seals with practiced, blinding speed. He drew a deep breath, the chakra in his chest igniting.

“Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!”

A massive orb of roaring flame, two meters in diameter, erupted from his mouth, lighting up the night with hellish orange light. It screamed toward the source of the presence, intent on obliterating the hiding spot and its occupant.

At the last possible second, a figure shot out from behind the wall, landing nimbly a dozen yards away as the fireball impacted behind him with a thunderous **BOOM!** The wall shattered, sending fragments of clay and stone flying.

The man stood up, brushing dust from his Oto-nin attire with a theatrical sigh. He was lean, with a cruel twist to his mouth. “Hehe~~ So you’re the ‘prodigy’ Lord Orochimaru is so interested in?” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “I don’t see what the fuss is about. He keeps bringing back these Konoha brats and calling them geniuses. It’s ridiculous. A cocky little punk like you? I could squash a dozen before breakfast.”

Ren’s expression remained impassive, but a cold fury settled in his gut. “Who,” he asked, his voice dangerously low, “are you calling a punk?”

The Oto-nin’s smirk froze. The voice hadn’t come from in front of him. It came from directly behind him. A chill shot down his spine. *How—?!*

He never got to finish the thought. A devastating kick connected with the small of his back, launching him through the air. He hit the hard-packed earth face-first, skidding several feet before coming to a stop. A coppery taste filled his mouth as he spat out a glob of blood and dirt.

“Gah! H-How is that possible…?” he gasped, pushing himself up on trembling arms. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he saw Ren already standing over him, looking down with an expression of utter, bored disdain.

“You should consider yourself fortunate that you still serve a purpose,” Ren said, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Otherwise, a simple injury would be the least of your concerns. If you lack the strength to back up your words, keep your mouth shut. Arrogance is a privilege earned by power, not given to fools. Now. Orochimaru informed you of my purpose. Where is the caravan? Take me to them. Now.”

The Oto-nin’s bravado had evaporated, replaced by raw, primal fear. The killing intent radiating from the young Uchiha was colder than the desert night. “R-right… Forgive me, Lord Ren!” he stammered, struggling to his feet and clutching his injured back. “The caravan you seek… they haven’t reached the Wind Country proper yet. When I left to meet you, they were camped in a forest just east of here, resting for the night. I… I have a partner watching them.”

“Then stop wasting my time. Lead the way.”

“Y-yes, Lord Ren! Right this way!” The injured ninja limped forward, setting a painfully slow pace. Ren followed, his impatience a tangible force.

After what felt like an eternity of slow progress, Ren’s patience snapped. “How much farther?”

“Please, Lord Ren, just a little further, we’re almost—”

He was cut off as the silhouette of a dense forest appeared on the horizon.

The Oto-nin stopped, pointing a shaking hand. “There, Lord Ren. They’re camped in that forest. Let me… let me signal my partner first. He can give us the current situation.”

“Do it,” Ren commanded.

The man nodded, pulling a small, white snake from a pouch at his hip. He whispered to it and set it on the ground. It slithered into the underbrush with unnatural speed. Moments later, another figure emerged from the tree line, leaping gracefully to land before them.

“Well, well, look what the snake dragged in,” the new arrival said, a mocking grin on his face as he looked at his injured comrade. “Took you long enough. I thought you got yourself killed. Would’ve saved me the trouble.” His gaze then slid to Ren, looking him up and down with open derision. “And this is the great Uchiha Ren Lord Orochimaru told us to obey? He looks like a lost child. Stop joking around, kid. Don’t think you can just waltz in here and—”

His words ended in a choked gurgle.

In the space of a blink, Ren had closed the distance. His hand was locked around the second ninja’s throat, lifting him clear off the ground. The man’s eyes bulged, his feet kicking uselessly at the air.

“The caravan,” Ren’s voice was ice. “Are they still in the forest?”

The ninja, his face turning purple, managed a frantic, desperate nod.

“Good.”

With a sickening *crunch*, Ren tightened his grip, shattering the man’s windpipe and vertebrae. He discarded the lifeless body like a piece of trash, letting it crumple to the ground in a heap.

He then turned his gaze to the first ninja, who stood frozen in abject terror. Ren offered him a smile that held no warmth whatsoever. “Well. You’ve served your purpose. You’ve guided me to my destination. And I am a very, very vindictive man. I believe in repaying insults in kind. Remember in your next life: if you don’t have the power, don’t pretend that you do. The cost is always higher than you expect.”

“L-Lord Ren, please! I—!” The ninja’s survival instincts finally kicked in. He spun on his heel, forgetting his injury, and tried to run.

He barely took two steps.

Ren moved like a shadow. There was a blur of motion, a wet, tearing sound, and then silence. The ninja looked down, confusion on his face, to see a single arm protruding from his chest, fist clenched around his still-beating heart. Then, nothing.

Ren retracted his arm, flicking the blood onto the sand. “Pathetic,” he murmured.

Without a second glance at the two corpses, he turned and melted into the dark embrace of the forest, a predator on the hunt.

Minutes after he was gone, another figure emerged from the shadows. Kabuto Yakushi adjusted his glasses, the moonlight glinting off the lenses as he looked down at the two dead Oto-nin. A small, clinical smile touched his lips.

“Hehe~ Freshly killed. Both taken out in a single, efficient blow. How… ruthless.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Uchiha Ren… just what are you after in those woods?”

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