Chapter 63: A Surge of Momentum

Countless shadows unfurled like black flowers blooming, winding from every twisted corner toward the mercenary ninjas. More than twenty men failed to escape in time; in an instant, the shadow seams seized their ankles and then coiled up their bodies.

“Secret Technique: Shadows Gather as One.”

In a heartbeat, over twenty shadow threads converged, wrapping the mercenary ninjas together into a single, massive bundle of flesh—an enormous human dumpling. The raging Human Bullet Tank was about to become a blood-soaked meat grinder, churning them into pulp.

“Captain, save us!”

“No! Please, no!!!”

The captured rogue ninjas howled in despair, for nothing is more terrifying than waiting for death. They knew their comrades were unreliable; their only hope was that their young captain might save them.

“Hey, you fat pig! How about a race?” At that moment, Shiraki, clad in his White Zetsu armor, stood atop a treetop, twisting his hips and taunting the Human Bullet Tank version of Akimichi.

“Frenzied Taunt.”

“Fat pig?!” At once, Akimichi’s rage exploded. There’s nothing an Akimichi despises more than being called fat—even if it’s true.

The words “fat pig” marked the edge of what he could endure. His eyes flared crimson, and he redirected the path of his Human Bullet Tank straight at Shiraki.

“Woohoo!” The giant tree beneath Shiraki was shredded to sawdust, but he had already flung his Bloodstained Cleaver to another tree, swinging away by its chain.

“Idiot!!!” Nara Feilu roared. He’d nearly crushed half the enemy—a successful ambush—but suddenly Akimichi veered off to chase someone else, all over a single taunt?

“Hey! Don’t get distracted—want to taste my big baby? Hahahaha…” Bakuton Retsu, a huge cigar clenched in his teeth and a thick black cannon on his shoulder, fired a round of explosive clay from its barrel.

“Damn it…” After five years of sloth, Nara Feilu was too fat to use the Body Flicker Technique. He could only weave a shadow web midair to intercept.

Boom!

The explosive clay struck the shadow web and detonated. The shockwave still blasted Nara Feilu away, breaking his control over the shadow seams and allowing the rogue ninjas to escape.

The ambush was broken.

“What’s going on!” Yamanaka Toyono, still hidden and coordinating from the shadows, watched the reversal unfold and launched a mental assault at the dwarf man loading a second round.

“Secret Technique: Mind-Body Disturbance Jutsu.”

“Haha, let’s set off a spectacular blast!” Bakuton Retsu bit down on his cigar and began bombarding his own allies.

“Crazy dwarf, have you lost your mind?!”

“You idiot, those are our men!!!”

“Hahaha, I’m blowing you all sky-high!” Bakuton Retsu had been driven completely mad, blasting wildly at everyone nearby as chaos erupted.

“Damn, it’s the Yamanaka Clan’s secret technique! Find him, now!” Fame comes at a price—intelligence leaks. The Ino-Shika-Cho trio almost always acted together, so the rogue ninjas quickly deduced the truth and began searching for Yamanaka Toyono.

Now thrown into chaos, Shiraki was chased all over by Akimichi’s Human Bullet Tank. Like a jungle Tarzan, he swung through the forest on his chain blade, never ceasing his taunts.

“Hahaha, you can’t catch me! La la la la…”

“Hahaha, you can’t outplay me! La la la la…”

“With a body like a fat pig, why call yourself a butterfly?”

Akimichi’s rage boiled over. He unleashed all his chakra, spinning at full speed, his skin turning red-hot. The friction with the ground and trees ignited natural flames around him, leaving a trail of scorched, blackened trenches as if he’d cast a Fire Release jutsu.

This was the advanced form of the Human Bullet Tank: “Blazing Fire Chariot!”

“Why isn’t it coming yet… Has that Armored Turtle grown green fur? How can it endure so long?”

Shiraki looked calm, but inwardly he was panicking. He could show off countless times but couldn’t afford a single failure, and the forest was thinning—soon there’d be nowhere left to swing.

Clang! The Bloodstained Cleaver was hurled toward a distant tree, but the distance was too great. Shiraki had no choice but to take a gamble.

Hit—

Missed!

The chain was stretched to its limit, but he couldn’t reach the farthest branch; the cleaver hung limp.

“Oh… shift…” The giant tree under his feet exploded into a cloud of splinters, and as Shiraki fell, he suddenly thought of something.

“Armored Turtle, I bet you don’t dare come out because you know you can’t outrun this wild boar.”

If I’m ruthless enough to taunt even the Dragon Turtle, let’s see how long you can stay cooped up.

“Your words have provoked Armored Dragon Turtle Rammus. He grants you the skill ‘Power Dash’ and makes a bet: if you outrun the Human Bullet Tank, you will gain this skill permanently.”

“Power Dash: Curl into a ball and charge at extreme speed; the faster you go, the stronger the impact.”

“How about a Turtle-Boar race?”

“Whew, finally you show yourself.” Shiraki breathed a sigh of relief.

“Power Dash—activate!”

Vroom—vroom—vroom!

Like a motorcycle revving up, Shiraki curled himself into a ball, accelerating even in midair. When he crashed to the ground, he left a deep crater.

A wild howl erupted from Akimichi. His massive body, more than five times Shiraki’s size, bore down mercilessly.

“Eat my dust!” Shiraki shot forward, leaving a trail of yellow smoke in the air.

“What a genius idea!” Afei cheered. “You copied the opponent’s secret technique at a glance—Mother would call you the Copy Ninja! Olalalala~” Afei, lacking a brain, never felt dizzy and was having the time of his life.

“Ahguh… ahwoo…” Shiraki, spinning at high speed, couldn’t speak; this was no game. He could only control his direction by fleeting glimpses of his surroundings—a challenge in dense forest, especially with brambles everywhere hindering his speed.

Akimichi, with his immense strength, smashed through mountains and trees alike. Shiraki had no such power.

“No good—I need a pair of boots.”

“Mercury Treads: +25 Magic Resistance, +45 Movement Speed, Unique Passive—Tenacity: reduces illusion control duration by 30%.”

Why not Ninja Tabi? Why not Boots of Swiftness?

Because—just because.

With his speed enhanced, Shiraki now kept pace with Akimichi, but victory was still just out of reach.

“Ghostwalk”—activate!

Instantly, Shiraki’s skin turned ghostly blue; his body felt light as a feather, his speed surged, and he gained the ability to ignore collisions. He dove into a tree and ghosted out the other side.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Akimichi was still rolling forward, flattening everything in his path.

“So relentless? That single ‘fat pig’ insult must have wounded him deeply—this taunt’s effect just won’t end!” Shiraki almost felt sorry for him.

Trailing ghostly blue light, Shiraki powered ahead, phasing through wood and stone. The Human Bullet Tank tore through everything in its path, leaving destruction in its wake—even the forest bears were driven out, cursing.

“I’m done playing with you; time’s almost up.” Suddenly, Shiraki swerved and rolled toward a towering mountain, with Akimichi, blazing with fury, close behind.

Boom!

A deafening crash echoed out. Rocks flew everywhere as Akimichi’s Human Bullet Tank finally wedged itself into the mountain, unable to smash through. Half his body was stuck, and he was already unconscious.

“This time, I win.” Shiraki slipped out from the rocks—he nearly suffocated when Ghostwalk’s duration ended, but Afei used his Earth Float Jutsu to rescue him.

“How do you feel, Mother?”

“Oh~ I feel as happy as a piece of poop swirling in a toilet!”

“That’s the worst analogy I’ve ever heard…”