"Such formidable ninja resolve."
As expected of a Sunagakure jonin—his explosive willpower was so intense that it even influenced his comrades. That furious roar was almost akin to a minor genjutsu.
Unlike Konoha's Will of Fire, whose core philosophy was *"Where the leaves dance, the flames will burn eternal"*—emphasizing sacrifice and legacy—the Will of Wind was a call to "Hear my roar."
Its foundation lay in the survival laws of the desert, demanding the unleashing of one's latent potential in dire straits, transforming into a sandstorm to protect the oasis and the clan.
Though it shared the essence of protection with Iwagakure's Will of Stone, their approaches were polar opposites. The Will of Stone turned inward, fortifying defense, while the Will of Wind erupted outward in explosive offense—manifesting as a storm of relentless, savage attacks.
This was why Suna-nin, especially their elite who had awakened the Will of Wind, could unleash terrifying combat prowess when pushed to the brink.
However, these Suna-nin were already poisoned by the senbon they'd been struck with, greatly diminishing the Will of Wind's effectiveness.
Moreover, after his three-stage ambush tactics, they were already half-crippled. If he truly were a Konoha jonin—as they believed—they'd stand no chance. Survival alone would be a miracle.
No matter how strong the Will of Wind was, against the overwhelming might of a Konoha jonin, it was futile.
After all, he had already broken them.
Originally, this had been a two-thirds-strength elite Suna squad: one jonin leading two chunin, and a special jonin puppeteer with two puppeteer chunin—six ninja split into two pursuit teams.
But after his ambush, one chunin had been bisected by a Fūma Shuriken.
Then, a puppeteer chunin lost both legs to a Yoru-style wire trap before being turned into a pincushion by poisoned senbon.
Two down. Four left.
But the losses weren't the worst part—after all, they were just chunin. The critical issue was that, aside from the special jonin puppeteer, the remaining three were poisoned, their chakra rapidly draining.
The strongest among them, the jonin captain, had lost the fingers of his left hand to the wires, rendering him unable to weave hand seals—a massive blow to his combat ability.
The only remaining major threat was the special jonin puppeteer, whose puppet had been shattered by the initial Fūma Shuriken strike, stripping him of his primary combat advantage.
Still, this was a Suna special jonin—not one of Iwa's watered-down versions. Even without his puppet, he was far stronger than an average chunin.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
Sure enough, the puppeteer's hands blurred through seals—nearly four per second—before unleashing the C-rank Wind Release: Great Breakthrough.
A whirlwind erupted from his mouth, scattering the battlefield's smoke and debris.
Clearly, the Suna-nin had grown wary of further ambushes. Their priority wasn't repositioning but clearing the field to secure visibility.
They regrouped into a defensive formation, covering each other.
"Must've forgotten to check the almanac today. Luck's not on my side."
That seal speed and the power behind the jutsu confirmed it—this guy wasn't just a puppeteer but also a wind-style specialist.
With that, Umino Yoru realized that despite crippling the squad, the Suna-nin—now suppressing the poison with chakra—were, in the short term, stronger than his own team.
Four Suna-nin remained:
A fingerless jonin. A puppeteer (puppetless, but skilled in wind release). A bald earth-style chunin (chakra half-depleted). A chunin controlling a half-wrecked puppet.
His side had seven, but one—the cat-masked chunin—was succumbing to poison. The rest were in decent shape: three chunin and three genin.
Numbers favored them, but the Suna-nin were elites backed into a corner, fighting with desperation.
In a straight fight? No advantage here.
The only edge was the Suna-nin's misconception—they still thought he was a Konoha jonin specializing in mechanized tools.
Umino Yoru's lips curled in self-mockery as his fingers brushed over a soldier pill in his pouch. A Konoha jonin? More like high-grade cannon fodder.
If not for the ambush, Tekkou's "Money Jutsu" support, and the sonar radar technique (a poor man's Byakugan), he'd have fled long ago.
But he just needed to stall a little longer. Konoha's mobile patrol should arrive soon.
"Charge!"
"We must recover that intel, no matter what!"
The Suna-nin's will was unshakable. Maintaining formation, they advanced like a sandstorm toward the monkey-masked Konoha chunin—the one holding the critical intel.
"Even now, they won't abandon the mission. Tenacious bastards."
Umino Yoru's eyes turned icy. If they refused to retreat, he'd just have to persuade them harder.
Snatching the largest scroll from Tekkou's waist, he fueled the man's rage with a goading shout:
"Tekkou! It's payback time!"
Tekkou's eyes burned crimson, veins bulging as he took in the shattered remains of his beloved weapons.
"My Fūma wife… my paper-waifu… MY—!"
With each word, his fury spiked, chakra surging violently.
(Conveniently forgetting he was the one who'd triggered the traps.)
"DAMN SUN SCUM—DIE!"
With a roar, Tekkou yanked the scroll open, unleashing its seal.
"Tool Manipulation: Heavenly Blade Storm!"
BOOM.
Tens of thousands of weapons erupted into the sky—a metallic tsunami blotting out the sun.
Poisoned senbon shrieked through the air like locusts.
Shuriken, caltrops, kunai, kusarigama, spiked clubs—all rained down like meteors.
Even iron spheres and steel hammers hammered into the Suna formation.
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
The bald chunin, finally prepared, slammed his hands down. A B-rank defensive barrier erupted, shielding the two puppeteers.
Meanwhile, the Suna jonin danced through the storm—blades grazing his skin as his sword flickered like a mirage, deflecting every senbon.
Clang! Clang! Clang—!
Truly a Suna elite. Even against this hellstorm, he moved with eerie calm.
His experience showed—instead of hiding behind the wall, he stayed outside, controlling the battle's rhythm while scouting for openings.
A gamble of absolute confidence.
(◕‿◕)