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"As for that so-called father… as long as I still draw breath, I will help you take revenge!"
For a long time, Chen Xing was trapped in the heavy shadow of the child's memories. Eventually, he calmed himself, adjusted the rough sack slung across his back—and suddenly wriggled free from inside it.
"Hoshigakure? Naruto?" Chen Xing muttered as he stood, scanning his surroundings. All around him lay barren, cracked soil and the faint silhouettes of distant mountains. A desolate atmosphere clung to the place, and he couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
It was not the time to think about familiar faces or comforting places—right now, survival came first. The most pressing problem wasn't revenge, nor training. It was food.
---
Not long after, his stomach made a loud grrrrk. Hunger was gnawing at him viciously. He felt faint—until a sudden kick from the short, coarse grass under his feet jolted him to focus. If this had been the second day without food, he might not have been able to stand.
"I have to find something to eat… but I can't go back to the village," Chen Xing thought with a frown. Without complaint, he bent down, gathered up his sack, and slung it over his shoulder. Even a ragged sack was worth keeping—it could be useful later.
From his memories, he knew that although it was called Hoshigakure—the Hidden Star Village—it was divided into two parts: the main residential area, and the area where the "Star" meteorite was kept under constant guard. The Star was so heavily protected that even ordinary villagers rarely went near it. Ninja patrolled the approach routes constantly, stationed between the village's administrative center and the Star's resting place.
Judging by the terrain, Chen Xing was now somewhere far behind the main village—a remote rear area. If not for the fact that the "Poison Valley" was farther away, he suspected he might have been dumped straight into that lethal gorge, where the toxic miasma would've killed him before he found a way out.
---
Dawn light began to creep over the land, letting him see the details of his surroundings. The area was a mess—cracked dirt, no grass, only the occasional dry bush. In the distance, a faint sound of rushing water reached his ears.
Checking the sack, he found it patched in many places, with small holes at the top. It wasn't pretty, but it could still hold things.
From a scrap of memory, he recalled that there was a small river nearby—one of the village's water sources. It flowed down from high ground before entering Hoshigakure's residential area. If he could reach it, maybe he could find something edible—wild fruit, or river snails.
The thought of catching fish crossed his mind, but at his current size—barely over one meter tall—he didn't have the strength or tools for it.
---
It took effort, but he pushed himself toward the river. Fortunately, the strange chakra infusion from earlier had strengthened his body somewhat. If he weren't starving, he might even match an average ten-year-old in stamina—by Earth standards, anyway.
Before long, the sound of water grew louder. He quickened his pace.
He found a section of the river about two meters wide and half a meter deep. The water was clear enough to see the bottom, where clusters of river snails clung to the stones. The riverbed was firm, not muddy.
"If only I had fire… I could roast them. But if I try making a fire like the old survival manuals describe, I'll probably collapse from hunger before I succeed."
With no better plan, he took off his patched clothes, revealing a thin, waxy-yellow frame dotted with faint bruises from old malnutrition. Wading in, the cold water shocked him, but it was spring, so he could bear it.
---
He crouched down, hands darting toward the riverbed. One by one, he pried the snails from the stones, placing them on a flat rock with a concave surface. There were plenty here—enough for a meal.
Before eating, he cupped his hands, drank deeply, and felt the sweetness of clean water ease his thirst and dull the worst of his hunger pangs.
Then came the less pleasant part. Using a small stone, he cracked open the shells and extracted the snail meat. It wasn't delicious—but it was food. The first bite wasn't as bad as he expected, and soon he was eating them without hesitation.
---
By the time he finished, the sun was climbing higher, and he felt a bit stronger. Scanning the area, he spotted a hillside scattered with large boulders and decided to search for shelter.
After some searching, he found a small cave—about a meter wide and just over a meter high, three meters deep. It was empty, safe, and dry.
"I'll need a door to block wolves or stray ninja dogs," he thought. Gathering dead branches and tough vine-like plants, he fashioned a crude barrier. By late afternoon, he'd built something serviceable.
---
That evening, sitting inside his makeshift shelter, Chen Xing outlined a survival plan.
Without a chakra refinement method, ninjutsu was out of the question for now. That left physical conditioning. His current strength was below that of a healthy ten-year-old in the Land of Fire, so reckless training like Might Guy's or Rock Lee's was impossible—he had to avoid permanent injuries.
His plan was simple:
Morning (after sunrise): Run from the cave to the river and back—three times.
After breakfast: 200 push-ups, 20 pull-ups.
Core training: 200 sit-ups, in four sets of 50.
This routine would be his starting point—just enough to slowly rebuild his strength without breaking himself.
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