Facing a forty-meter-long colossal blade of flowing fire cleaving down!
The sheer gale generated by the swinging sword whipped up violent air currents in all directions. The wind was so fierce it dragged dozens of Sand ninjas backward two meters, their feet skidding across the ground and their faces contorting under the pressure. Many nearly lost their footing entirely, and the seals they were forming were forcibly interrupted.
They could only look up in horror as the heaven-reaching flaming blade crashed down.
"Ninjutsu squads, assemble on me! Fast!"
"All Jonin, bring your units! Form a combined Ninjutsu group!"
The Sand Commander's scalp went numb. His eyes bulged as he let out a thunderous roar. The range of this strike was so vast that he, positioned in the center, had no way to dodge. As the brain of this army, if he were beheaded, it would be nearly impossible to organize another effective countermeasure against this "unkillable" brat.
If this strike landed true, only one thing awaited the Sand: Total collapse.
The Sand formation shifted rapidly. Seven elite squads from the left wing, right wing, center, and the frontline fighting Manda reacted to the command, spinning around and racing toward the center at maximum speed.
The Commander bellowed his next order:
"Everyone! Release your jutsu into the sky indiscriminately! Shatter that sword!"
In the next instant, the Sand ninjas—repressing the primal fear of seeing something akin to a god—formed seals and roared toward the heavens.
"Wind Style: Wind Cutter!"
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
"Water Style: Water Hail!"
"Earth Style: Earth Style Wall!"
"Earth Style: Earth Dragon Spear!"
Countless jutsu, wind blades, rising stone pillars, fireballs, rock bullets, and kunai surged upward. Even Genin, left with no other options, threw tiny poisoned needles.
Beneath the giant sword that looked like a falling meteor, this first wave of attacks was instantly crushed, vaporized, and dismantled! But a continuous stream of attacks kept rising from the ground.
Under such a concentrated barrage, the falling momentum of the flaming sword was finally hindered. And that tiny bit of time bought was enough.
The seven elite squads, along with the Commander himself, were now in position. Eight Jonin and fifteen elite Chunin! Their faces turned grim as they looked up and thrust their palms toward the sky.
"Combined Ninjutsu: Wind Style—Super Great Scythe Weasel!"
A wind storm far surpassing any normal jutsu exploded instantly. A massive vortex with a radius of over ten meters spiralled upward, roaring and exploding, vacuuming the air. It was as if ten thousand invisible blades had manifested out of thin air, hacking at the sky.
The colossal storm collided with the flaming sword.
Firelight flashed; wind pressure erupted! At the point of impact, a terrifying sandstorm was whipped up. On the plateau, red willows and camel thorns were ripped out by the roots, and coarse gravel flew like shrapnel. Sharp gashes appeared all over the terrain.
Then, the sky suddenly cleared.
The terrifying flaming sword had been shattered by the force of the strike, exploding into a rain of sparks like a magnificent firework display—illuminating the battlefield like day for a fleeting moment before vanishing into the night.
Encircled by the Sand ninjas, Ren Uchiha's expression shifted. He gritted his teeth. The ninjas of the Great Nations were truly not to be underestimated!
Wind Style: Great Scythe Weasel was only a B-rank jutsu, but when released by a group of well-coordinated elites as a combined technique, its power was no less than an S-rank jutsu.
"Tch... this is getting troublesome!"
Ren glanced toward the Sand center. The flaming sword, much like the fire fist he had used to shatter the Hiramekarei's light blade, was a variation of his Fire Style: Chakra Mode. Both required massive amounts of Dark Chakra and the forbidden Physical Rebirth to extract.
In other words, with his current reserves and the Zero-Tails, he could only use a jutsu of that scale one more time. This first strike had been his best chance at a quick beheading while they were distracted by Manda. Now that they were on guard and had the data on his move, a second attempt at ending the battle in one shot was nearly impossible.
The battlefield fell into shadow once more. The three hundred Sand ninjas looked at the sparks raining from the sky, and their morale soared! The way they looked at the boy in the center changed instantly.
Ren felt waves of malice, killing intent, and extreme emotion projecting toward him. A long row of subtitles scrolled down before his eyes:
[The 300 Sand ninjas think you're nothing special!]
Bright red dots appeared on the heads and faces of every ninja—like a group of flamboyant provocateurs posing and tempting him.
Come on then, come fight us!
Ren: "..."
He took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the Sand Commander. Then, he cursed under his breath, "Damn it, I really didn't want to 'dance' today!"
"You're the ones who forced me!"
The fire on his body died out. His right hand, which had been charred black, began to regenerate at a visible speed. Ren pulled out the kunai, blades, and senbon stuck in his body one by one, tossing them casually to the ground.
Clang. Cling. Clatter.
Then, he opened a pair of crimson, sinister eyes. He stared coldly at the seemingly endless Sand army (mostly because he was short). He took a massive step forward.
With that one step, the Sand ninjas in front of him swallowed hard, a drop of cold sweat sliding down their brows. They looked at the expressionless, black-haired, red-eyed boy covered in blood.
They watched his wounds heal at high speed. They saw the contemptuous, indifferent look in his eyes. They saw him walking through their formation as if he were strolling through his own backyard.
The wind died down. The only sounds left were ragged breathing, the sound of swallowing, and the screech of a vulture attracted by the scent of blood circling overhead.
SCREE!
The Sand ninjas were terrified. Their hands gripped their weapons so tightly they trembled. Their expressions were identical to the ninjas who had faced the "Shura of the Ninja World," Madara Uchiha, during the Fourth Great War.
After that spectacular decapitation attempt, they didn't know if Madara was impressive or not—but they knew for a fact that the boy in front of them could truly slaughter them all.
"Hoo..."
"Let's begin then," Ren exhaled.
He looked up, his Sharingan flicking left and right, leaving trails of crimson light in the darkness. He quickly surveyed the terrain, which had been completely terraformed by the previous clash. Under his strike, the Sand had been forced to release countless Earth Style jutsu. Now, the area was a forest of rock pillars.
Combined with the existing wind-eroded pillars of the plateau, the terrain was perfect for Ren.
With his adrenaline surging, he memorized every inch of the environment, mapping out multiple routes into the enemy ranks in his mind. He reached back toward the six tool pouches at his waist.
Ten fingers moved in a blur. Wrist flicked.
In an instant, a rain of shuriken scattered across the sky!
Ren's Sharingan flared. He lunged forward, his lips curling upward. Under the influence of Dark Chakra, a surge of extreme excitement began to swell in his heart. He bared his teeth and roared:
"Try and stop me, you grains of sand!"
"Now, first—take this!"
"Ninjutsu: Throw Everything Out Jutsu!"
Under the stunned gazes of the Sand, Ren went full throttle. His hands became a blur, leaving afterimages that the naked eye couldn't track.
Eight... sixteen... thirty-two... sixty-four... two hundred and eighty!
Countless wires! Countless shuriken! A literal wall of metal screamed through the air. In just three seconds, this single boy had thrown a volume of shuriken that would normally require an entire Sand platoon's volley.
"Hell! What's wrong with this kid?!"
The twenty or so ninjas directly in front of Ren felt their breathing stop. They watched the shuriken curve, bounce, and fly in beautiful, terrifying arcs. Faced with this simple, direct, yet absurdly effective attack, they dove for cover behind rock pillars.
How the hell can he throw that many?!
By the time the metallic rain subsided and they looked up again, they were horrified to find that the boy had vanished!
"Where is he?"
"Is he trying to hide?"
"No! He's probably going for the Commander again!"
The Sand ninjas looked around frantically. One ninja roared to break the panic, "Dammit, someone go report to the Commander!"
But in the next heartbeat!
A cold, elegant blade arc flashed in a circle! Behind the ninja who had just spoken, a figure streaked through the air like an arrow. Holding the Kusanagi sword, which shimmered like autumn water in the moonlight, and pulling on Earth Grudge Fear threads invisible in the dark, he was a moonlit phantom.
With disordered dance steps and a twisted gait, he plummeted from the sky, swinging his sword in a full arc.
Squelch!
The loudest Sand ninja was cut down instantly, unable to even crawl.
The others spun around in shock, only to see the boy hook a wire, his toe tapping in a pool of blood as he vaulted back into the air with those same erratic steps. He landed in a crouch atop a tall, wind-eroded pillar.
Behind him hung a massive full moon. His face was lost in shadow, leaving only a pair of glowing crimson Sharingan spinning silently.
He looked down at the terrified Sand ninjas and let out a soft, chilling chuckle.
"The plan has changed, but..."
"This place—is my hunting ground now!"