Chương 107: Tailed Beast Bomb Inbound

It would have been a stroke of divine comedy if the Cloud and Stone ninjas had merged into a single retreating mass. Without a single Kunai from the Leaf, they would have likely torn each other limb from limb in a shambolic display of mutual loathing. But shinobi were rarely so accommodating. Primal instinct took over, and both factions veered toward their respective command centers.

The Konoha pursuit didn't last long—not because of some tactical hesitation to corner a desperate foe, but because the stragglers were possessed by a savage, suicidal ferocity. Whether fueled by pure hatred or the noble desire to buy their comrades time, they fought like cornered beasts. By the time the Leaf finished mopping up these remnants, the main enemy forces had vanished into the horizon.

Their flight proved a universal truth: in the face of death, you don't need to outrun the hunter; you only need to outrun your teammates. The cost was staggering. Of the thousands fielded by the Cloud and Stone, barely twenty percent would live to see their own barracks. Konoha had bled heavily too, though as the victors, their morale remained afloat. As the dust settled, Jiraiya began the grim task of reorganization. Medical teams flooded the field to treat the wounded of all three sides.

In a jarring shift of persona, the cold, pragmatic commander was replaced by the romantic protagonist of Jiraiya's own novels. He forbade the "finishing blows" usually dealt to the fallen, opting instead for a display of magnanimity. The Leaf ninjas grumbled but obeyed. As victors, a little mercy provided a heady sense of psychological superiority. Look at us—civilized, unlike the uncouth brutes of the Stone or the barbarians of the Cloud.

They were a beacon of humanity, and the survivors had better be grateful for Jiraiya's benevolent soul. With sufficient medical personnel on hand, Zhen declined the invitation to assist. He reunited with his squad, sinking onto the scarred earth to recover. They were the undisputed stars of the engagement—a jagged blade that had pierced the heart of the enemy formation, saving dozens of allies and decapitating Gari, the legendary master of the Blast Corps.

Gari's death had been the definitive pivot, the moment the Stone's spirit simply snapped. Though Zhen's squad had escaped death, they were exhausted to the marrow, their bodies a tapestry of minor abrasions. Yet, compared to the reverent whispers and awed stares of their peers, these wounds were merely medals of honor—the small price of becoming a living legend. Hayate, Yugao, and the other young Chunin sat with flushed faces, riding the high of their accomplishment.

Had the enemy turned for a second round, they felt they could have fought for another three hours on pure adrenaline. The Jonin, however, were more grounded. Having seen the carnage of a dozen wars, they didn't care about glory; they were simply relieved that their charges were still breathing. To an old soldier, survival was the only currency that mattered. Jiraiya, who had spent the battle neutralizing the Cloud's elite, approached the group. He looked weary but composed.

"Fine work, everyone," he said, offering a rare word of praise before turning to clap Zhen on the shoulder.

"Zhen, you're even better than Minato described. You've earned the title of Hero today."

"You flatter me, Jiraiya-sama," Zhen replied with practiced humility.

"Protecting my comrades is the only reason I train."

"Hah! The Will of Fire burns bright in this one. No wonder my old teacher won't stop singing your praises. Another perfect successor." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Perfect? Are you comparing me to your star pupil? Zhen thought dryly. He might rival Minato in the looks department, but he lacked the man's natural, sun-drenched charisma. Zhen was a shadow compared to the "Yellow Flash," and he was perfectly fine with that.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. It was a leaden, suffocating pressure that seemed to settle in the marrow of their bones. Every shinobi with a shred of sensory talent turned toward the direction of the Stone's retreat, sensing something primordial and malevolent.

"Zhen," Jiraiya's voice lost its warmth.

"Can you see what's happening?"

"Too far for specifics, Jiraiya-sama," Zhen reported, his brow furrowing.

"But I can feel a chakra signature. It's vast, scorching, and utterly violent. It doesn't feel human."

"Damn it. The Stone brought their Jinchuriki to the front. This is going to be a problem."

"A Jinchuriki?" Zhen feigned ignorance.

"What is that?"

"You'll learn in time," Jiraiya muttered, refusing to elaborate. Zhen didn't need the explanation. Based on the radiant heat of the chakra, he suspected it was Roshi, the Four-Tails Jinchuriki. Even at this distance, the Bijuu's energy was like a distant sun—invisible through the clouds, yet unmistakably there. Jiraiya, whose sensory skills were secondary to his combat prowess, watched the horizon, wondering why the monster hadn't moved. Was there a Cloud contingent still holding them back?

"Jiraiya-sama!" Zhen barked.

"A massive concentration of chakra is accelerating toward our position!" Jiraiya's eyes widened as the realization hit him.

"Everyone! Take the wounded and scatter! Don't head back—flank! Move!" The Leaf ninjas didn't hesitate. They scooped up their fallen and sprinted toward the lateral ridges. It was the only rational move. You can't outrun a locomotive coming down the tracks behind you, but you can jump out of the way. In the distance, a black speck appeared against the sky, growing with terrifying speed. A low, rolling boom echoed through the valley as something massive tore through the atmosphere.

Jiraiya bolted toward the sound, intending to intercept the monster itself. He couldn't let a Tailed Beast trample through a field of exhausted ninjas. Zhen watched the black orb expand in his vision. He calculated the speed of his father's group. They were too slow. He had no data on the blast radius of a Tailed Beast Bomb—such information was a state secret buried in the darkest vaults of the Five Kage. He wasn't going to gamble his family's life on a guess. Zhen's eyes snapped shut, then flared open.

Orange markings bloomed around his lids as he entered Sage Mode. He ignited, launching into the air like a surface-to-air missile. He intercepted the projectile in mid-air, matching its velocity until they were flying in tandem. The Bijuu Dama was a churning sphere of unstable Yin and Yang chakra, radiating a heat that singed the air. Zhen extended both hands. A massive torrent of chakra erupted from his palms, weaving into a titanic, translucent shell.

"[Gale King's Barrier!]" He didn't try to stop it. To oppose that momentum was to be crushed. Instead, he funneled his wind-natured chakra against the side of the orb, nudging the sphere's vector. It was a delicate, high-speed maneuver—like a racing car drifting through a hairpin turn. The black sun, now encased in a shimmering white veil, traced a massive arc across the sky. Its trajectory shifted, veering away from the Leaf and toward the northeast—directly toward the path of the retreating Cloud remnants.

Shifting the flood, Zhen thought. Sorry, Cloud brothers. You'll have to tell me how this tastes. Sensing the chakra within the sphere reaching its critical threshold, Zhen dissolved the barrier and banked hard, stopping his momentum as the orb screamed toward its new target. On the ground, the Leaf ninjas looked back, gasping as they saw the source of their doom redirected by a lone figure in the sky. Jiro Dongye stood paralyzed, his fists clenched in a mix of pride and agonizing helplessness.

He was the father, yet he was being saved by the son once again. Gekko placed a hand on Jiro's shoulder.

"Have faith in him, Jiro. Your son has moved beyond the logic of ordinary shinobi. You have to accept that now." Then, the world turned white. An incandescent flash swallowed the setting sun, followed by a roar that shook the very foundations of the earth. Finally, the shockwave arrived—a wall of wind that leveled the remaining trees and sent dust billowing for miles. Somewhere in the distance, a Tailed Beast had spoken. And somewhere else, the Cloud had found out exactly how salty its words were.