Chương 131: Exquisite Specimens, in Pairs

Outside the gates of Takigakure, Leader Shibuki personally escorted the trio to the threshold of the falls. As Zhen removed his blindfold, he turned to the older man.

"Leader Shibuki, now that the crisis has been averted, we shall begin our return to the Leaf."

"I must apologize for the lack of hospitality," Shibuki said, bowing low once more.

"Forcing you to travel through the night is a failure of our etiquette. My deepest gratitude once again to our allies in the Leaf. I have detailed everything in my report to the Hokage." In the shinobi world, respect was a currency paid in full to the powerful—at least on the surface. Zhen had long since grown accustomed to such displays. Looking down at the man performing a perfect ninety-degree bow, Zhen merely offered a slight, respectful nod in return.

"I shall ensure the letter reaches him. Farewell." With a sharp pivot, the Owl Squad vanished into the mist of the waterfall. Watching their departure—a display of Body Flicker technique that rivaled his own—Shibuki sighed. Konoha was a sea of monsters. In one generation, the 'Yellow Flash' had ascended to the seat of Hokage. In the next, a 'Shield of Konoha' like Zhen Dongye had emerged, possessing talent that bordered on the terrifying.

Even Zhen's teammates exhibited a combat prowess far beyond that of his own men. The hope of a minor village like Takigakure ever standing on equal footing with the Leaf seemed a distant, unreachable dream. His son, the young Shibuki, harbored no such heavy thoughts. Listening to Suien's report, the boy was enamored. To him, the Leaf shinobi were not just powerful; they were the embodiment of integrity—the "moral compass" of the shinobi world.

They were reliable, honest, and lacked the predatory arrogance usually associated with Great Nations. He was, for all intents and purposes, a Leaf convert. Only Suien stood in silence, his fists white-knuckled. In the fertile soil of his resentment, a seed of ambition had taken root: he would become strong, by any means necessary. The moon hung high and silver, casting enough light to navigate the craggy terrain. The Owl Squad moved at a breakneck pace.

Once they were clear of Takigakure's immediate territory, Zhen signaled for a halt on a desolate mountain peak. He needed to verify their bearings; moonlight, for all its ethereal beauty, lacked the sharp clarity of the sun when judging distant landmarks. Yugao adjusted her mask, showing no fatigue from the night march.

"Captain, the mission isn't technically over, is it? The Leaf rogue is still at large."

"Precisely," Zhen replied.

"That's why I'm looking for him."

"Then why let them go in the first place? I saw you—you did it on purpose." Hayate, recalling Zhen's earlier collection of the Seven-Tails' chakra, ventured a guess.

"The Captain usually has... ulterior motives." He had known Zhen since childhood; the man never moved without a reason, and he never wasted effort on mere whimsy.

"This is the way," Zhen said, fixing his gaze on a specific coordinate. He flared his sensory net, sweeping toward the Land of Grass.

"Hold onto my shoulders. I'll give us a boost." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Yugao obeyed instantly. Hayate's eyes widened.

"You don't mean..." Before he could finish, the world folded. The mountain peak vanished, replaced by the rushing sound of a river. A wave of mild nausea washed over the two subordinates. As members of the Hokage's Guard, they had experienced the Flying Thunder God many times under Minato. Compared to the Fourth's seamless, instantaneous transition, Zhen's version was... unrefined. It lacked that "blink and you're there" fluidity.

It felt like a novice driver lurching a manual transmission through the gears; you worried the engine would stall at any second, yet the driver himself seemed blissfully confident. Zhen had solved the balance issues, at least. Nobody ended up face-down in the dirt this time. It was currently a tool for travel, not combat—using it in a fight would likely result in teleporting his head directly into an enemy's blade. Still, it was enough to make his teammates green with envy.

They were still struggling to find the "feeling" of the technique alongside Genma's trio. They stood in a deep, shadowed ravine. The river was flanked by narrow strips of silt, beyond which rose sheer, towering cliffs that seemed to pierce the stars.

"Where are we?" Yugao asked, scanning the terrain.

"Think back," Zhen prompted.

"We've been here." Hayate surveyed the landmarks.

"The border between the Land of Grass and the Land of Fire. This is Shinnobi Bridge territory—specifically the Shimotsuki Ravine." The river originated in the Land of Waterfall, snaked through Grass, and cut across Fire before emptying into the sea. It was a famous waterway, made legendary by a certain bridge that had become a landmark for the Leaf and a graveyard for the Stone. Yugao's eyes lit up.

"I remember now! But why here? Did the rogues actually flee this far?"

"Indeed." Zhen walked to the riverbank and plucked a kunai from the sand. It bore his Flying Thunder God formula. He hadn't left it here during a previous mission; a "good Samaritan" had placed it here for him. He looked up. High on the cliffside, a man-made cave flickered with firelight. The three entered the cavern, a location they had once cleared of bandits. Inside, three men sat around a campfire, as motionless as statues. Among them was the Leaf defector and the two rogues Zhen had "spared" earlier.

They were deep within a Genjutsu, waiting like lambs at the slaughter. Zhen's mastery of Yin Release made his illusions formidable, rivaling the Sharingan in potency though he rarely showcased them. He had used the Genjutsu to compel the defector to place the marker and lead the others to this specific hideout.

"Watch the target," Zhen commanded.

"I have an experiment to conduct."

"He's not going anywhere," Hayate assured him. They didn't ask questions; they simply moved to flank the prisoner. Under Zhen's silent direction, the two non-Leaf rogues stood, stripped to the waist, and lay down on the cold stone. They moved like marionettes, their minds completely colonized by his illusion. Without formal anti-Genjutsu training, they were nothing more than wet clay in his hands. Zhen unfurled the scroll containing the Seven-Tails' chakra.

"Release!" As the seal broke, a violent, crimson-tinged energy erupted, filling the cavern with a predatory hum. [Fuinjutsu: Four Symbols Seal] Zhen pressed his palm against a rogue's abdomen, acting as a conduit to guide the maelstrom into the man's gut. The rogue's brow furrowed in primal discomfort, but the Genjutsu held him fast. Chakra, as a rule, carries the consciousness of its source. In this moment, Zhen was creating a "Pseudo-Jinchuriki," much like the boy Sora from the Fire Temple.

Zhen kept his hand in place, monitoring the cellular integration. It was a fascinating, gruesome process. The beast's chakra immediately began to weave itself into the host's tenketsu, a forced marriage of essences. However, since the main body of Chomei was still alive, this fragment lacked a strong ego; it possessed only raw instinct, making the fusion slower than a standard sealing.

Zhen calculated that with a full Bijuu, the life-link would be instantaneous—a theory confirmed by his observation of the girl, Fuu. This was the tragedy of the Jinchuriki. If the beast were extracted, the host died. Even the legendary vitality of the Uzumaki could only delay the inevitable by a few agonizing minutes. It was why the beasts loathed their cages; they were immortal, tied to creatures whose lifespans were a mere blink.

To them, a human was a terminal cell, and no god wants to share a grave with a mayfly.