I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

"I'm not afraid." Uchiha Sakugo's tone was calm, but very firm.

It's not that I'm not afraid.

Sakumo looked at him. "You can't be afraid. If you're afraid, your blade will slow down. If your blade slows down, you'll die. If you die, your teammates will die too. My squad doesn't allow anyone to be afraid to die."

Shuoge stood up and met his gaze. "I won't die in a place like this."

Sakumo looked into his eyes.

Those eyes were black, without Sharingan, nothing at all.

But he saw something in those eyes—not courage, not stubbornness, but something deeper, something more profound.

He knew what it was.

That's something you only get after losing loved ones, killing too many people, or crawling out of a pile of corpses.

"I have a mission tomorrow."

Sakumo walked back to the table and spread the map out again. "An elite unit of Sunagakure is operating on the front lines. The commander is Kato, a Jonin who is skilled in puppetry. Our mission is to intercept them before they retreat and kill Kato."

He tapped his finger on the map.

"Here. In the canyon, similar to the one in the Hidden Stone Front. But the enemies are different. Puppet masters aren't afraid of close combat; their puppets are faster, more ruthless, and more fearless than humans. You've killed a puppet master before, so you know how to fight him. But Kato is different; his puppets aren't just one person, they're three."

Shuoge stared at the point on the map, his mind racing.

Three puppets.

The puppeteer's true form is hidden behind the puppets, and there are three sets of chakra threads, each connected to one of the three puppets.

To kill him, you either need to sever the three sets of chakra threads, or bypass the three puppets and attack his main body directly.

Cutting the threads is the fastest, but it requires cutting three at once. His invisible blade can only cut one at a time, so it takes three cuts to cut all three. Three cuts are enough for the puppet to kill him three times.

"I will kill," said Shogo. "And I will fight."

—He was exposed to the wisdom of his ancestors from a young age, including Sun Tzu's Art of War and the Thirty-Six Stratagems.

—Any random Chinese person could offer a suggestion.

Shuo Mao glanced at him.

He didn't smile, didn't nod, just glanced at him. Then he stood up, picked up the white knife, and hung it at his waist. "We'll leave at dawn tomorrow. Go to bed early tonight."

He stepped out of the tent.

Only Uchiha Sakugo remained standing there, staring at that point on the map for a long time.

Then Shuoge walked out of the tent and stood outside.

Night falls quickly in the desert; as soon as the sun sets, the temperature drops. The wind blows from the west, carrying sand and the smell of distant gunpowder.

He touched the shuriken at his waist. The one engraved with the character "Mirror".

"Uncle, I saw the White Fang of Konoha. His sword was very clean. My sword is very old. He asked me if I was afraid of dying. I said no. I wasn't lying. I really wasn't afraid."

What I fear is—not being strong enough.

He turned and walked back to the tent, placed the knife against the bed, and lay down.

Close your eyes. Tomorrow I'm going to kill someone.

Kill someone who is very difficult to kill.

-

At four in the morning, the desert was still dark.

Shuoge followed behind Shuomao, stepping in his footprints.

The sand was very soft, and I sank in half an inch with every step, making it more strenuous to walk on than on flat ground.

The wind blew in from the west, carrying the scent of sand and the distant smell of a campfire.

The other two teammates walked on either side—one was named Kurosawa, in his early thirties, taciturn, and skilled in barrier techniques; the other was named Rin, in her mid-twenties, as thin as a bamboo pole, and also a barrier master.

Four people, four shadows, moved silently across the sand.

The target camp is five miles away.

A hundred-man squad of Sunagakure was stationed in a depression between two sand dunes.

The commander was Kato, a Jonin and puppeteer, with over a dozen Jonin and nearly a hundred Chunin and Genin under his command. The mission was to kill Kato and dismantle this hundred-man squad.

Shuo Mao stopped on the back of the sand dune and squatted down.

Three people gathered around him and squatted down beside him.

"Kurosawa and Rin have set up a barrier on the east side," Sakumo's voice was so low it was almost a breath. "Once the barrier is activated, those inside won't be able to get out, and reinforcements outside won't be able to get in. You have three minutes."

Kurosawa nodded. Rin didn't speak, but her fingers had already begun forming hand seals.

"Shuoge." Shuomao looked at him. "Set fire to the west. Burn the camp to lure their people there. The more chaos, the better. Once the fire starts, I'll go in."

Shuo Ge nodded.

"Three minutes."

Sakumo stood up. "In three minutes, regardless of whether the barrier is complete or the fire is burning, I will go in. You guys hold on until I come out. If you can't—"

He didn't continue.

No need to say anything.

The four people dispersed.

Shuoge ran westward, but the sand was soft and he couldn't run fast. He attached chakra to the soles of his feet, so that each step he took left no mark on the sand and he didn't sink in.

The wind escape technique flowed silently along the blade.

The camp came into view.

Tents, campfires, and patrolling sentries.

The Sand Village's flag fluttered in the wind, red like a drop of blood.

He crouched behind the sand dune, looking at the tents.

He knows Fire Release techniques, but the fireballs are too obvious; they'd be spotted as soon as he unleashed them. What he needs is fire, not fireballs. He needs fire that starts burning simultaneously from multiple locations, making it difficult to know where to put it out.

He formed a hand seal with his left hand and held a knife in his right.

First, unleash Wind Release—scatter your chakra and let the wind flow through the camp.

The wind blew through the tents, through the campfire, and across the faces of those still sleeping.

Then Fire Release.

It's not a fireball, it's Mars.

The wind carried sparks out, landing on tents, on piles of supplies, on dry wood. One, two, ten, dozens of sparks.

The fire started simultaneously in more than a dozen places.

The camp was bombed.

Some people were shouting, some were running, and some rushed out of the tents, still wearing their sleeping clothes.

The wind fanned the flames, and the fire, fueled by the wind, illuminated half the camp in just a few seconds. The firelight turned the sand dunes orange-red, casting long shadows like a swarm of ants whose nest had been trampled.

Shuoge crouched behind the sand dune, watching the chaotic crowd.

Their eyes were all on the fire, and no one noticed him.

He saw the Jonin—rushing out of their tents, not to put out the fire, but to search for someone. They were looking for the arsonist. Their gazes swept across the sand dunes, across the darkness, across the place where Sakugo was hiding.

He held his breath. The wind whistled along the blade, ready to strike at any moment.

-

To the east, a blue beam of light shot into the sky.

The barrier is complete.

Kurosawa and Rin enclosed the entire camp, preventing those inside from getting out and those outside from getting in.

Three minutes, just right.

Then Shuoge saw a white light. It slid down the dunes like moonlight filtering through the clouds, like a blade sliding out of its sheath. White Fang.

The white sword flashed in the firelight, and a Sand Village Jonin fell.

It flashed again, and the second one fell.

Sakumo's figure moved through the camp as fast as light, so fast that before the Jonin could react, they had a gash on their throats.

Shuoge squatted on the sand dune, watching the white light leap in the firelight.

fast.

Faster than him.

Faster than anyone he'd ever seen. Minato's speed is "disappearance," White Fang's speed is "invisibility." By the time you see the light, the person is already dead.

But there are too many people in Sunagakure.

The Jonin realized what was happening and stopped fighting alone. They gathered together, back to back, forming a defensive line.

Three people were protecting the one in the middle—Kato.

The puppeteer squatted on the ground, his fingers moving, chakra threads extending from his fingertips and connecting to the three puppets.

One humanoid figure and two beast-like figures stood in front of him, like three shields.

Shuo Mao rushed forward, his white blade striking the humanoid puppet, splitting it in two.

But two beast-like figures pounced at the same time, one on the left and one on the right, blocking his escape route.

Shuo Mao retreated, and with a flash of his blade, the beast-like creature on the left had one of its legs severed.

But Kato's fingers moved again, new chakra threads extending from his fingertips and connecting to the new puppet.

The camp was littered with puppet fragments and manipulable objects. The puppeteers of Sunagakure were unkillable on the battlefield—as long as you had wood, you still had a weapon.

Shuoge saw it.

White Tooth got tangled up.

It's not that we can't beat them, it's that we can't break through.

Three Jonin protected Kato, who had three puppets. If a puppet was broken, he could replace it with a new one.

Kurosawa and Rin's barrier wouldn't hold for long. The hundred-man ninja squad was frantically attacking the barrier wall, and the blue pillars of light flickered like candles in the wind. They couldn't hold on any longer.

Sakumo saw it too.

His knife paused for a moment—just a moment.

Then he turned around and rushed out of the camp, not back into it.

Head east, towards the barrier wall, towards Kurosawa and Rin's location.

A white light streaked across the middle of the camp, cutting through the sand, the tents, and two Sand Village Chunin blocking its path.

He rushed to the barrier wall. Kurosawa was kneeling on the ground, blood at the corner of his mouth, and his chakra was almost depleted.

Ling stood behind him, her hands forming a mudra, her fingers trembling.

There were at least thirty or forty Sand Village ninjas attacking the barrier outside. Every punch they threw hit the barrier wall, and every punch caused Rin to bleed a little more from the corner of her mouth.

Sakumo stood before them, his sword held horizontally in front of him.

His back was straight, like a tree, like a wall. He looked at the Sand Village ninja rushing towards him, at the kunai and shuriken flashing in the firelight, at those who wanted him dead.

He did not back down.

"withdraw."

Sakumo Hatake uttered a single, simple word, his voice low but utterly authoritative.

Kurosawa and Rin heard it.

Kurosawa stood up, and Rin dispelled the barrier. The blue pillar of light disappeared, and Sunagakure ninjas surged in from all directions.

Sakumo's blade flashed again—this time not to kill, but to clear a path.

Shuoge squatted on the sand dune, watching the white light flicker in the darkness.

It's not as fast or as sharp as it used to be.

It was protecting something, blocking something, using its own body to shield others from the knives flying from all directions.

He gripped the knife hilt, wanting to charge down.

The wind whistled across the blade, and his legs strained—

"Don't move."

The voice came from behind him.

Sakugo whirled around—Sakumo stood behind him, covered in blood, a knife in his hand. Kurosawa and Rin followed behind him, both panting and trembling.

They broke out of the camp.

"Walk."

Shuo Mao walked past him without stopping.

Shuoge stood up and followed.

He glanced back at the camp—the fire was still burning, turning half the sky red. The Sand Village people were putting out the fire, collecting corpses, and shouting things he couldn't hear into the darkness.

Kato is still alive.

The mission failed.

The four of them walked in the desert for a long time.

No one speaks.

Kurosawa was the most seriously injured, with a stab wound to his chest that soaked his clothes with blood, but he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

Ling supported him, her own legs trembling.

Sakumo walked at the front, his sword already sheathed, the first scratch finally appearing on the white scabbard. It wasn't left by an enemy's sword; it was from when he bumped his head against a rock while shielding Kurosawa from the blow.

When it was dawn, Shuo Mao stopped. Ahead was a grove of low trees; where there are trees, there is water, and where there is water, there is a place to rest.

He turned to look at Kurosawa and Rin.

"Treat the wound and rest for two hours."

The two sat down against a tree, and Rin began to bandage Kurosawa.

Sakumo walked to another tree, leaned the knife against the trunk, and sat down. He looked down at his hands. His hands were covered in blood, dried and forming dark red scabs.

He stared at it for a long time.

Shuoge stood beside him, without sitting down.

He recalled the scene he had just witnessed on the sand dunes—White Fang's blade flashing in the camp, as fast as light and as bright as the moon.

Then he turned and rushed out, not to kill the enemy, but to save his teammates. He abandoned his mission to save his comrades. Just like in the legends. Just like the ending of the future.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm leaving?" Sakumo didn't look up.

Shuoge remained silent for a while.

"I saw it."

There is no right or wrong in Sakumo Hatake's choice; even a sage couldn't explain it.

By abandoning two teammates, eliminating the enemy leader, and suppressing the emerging Sunagakure, Konoha can free up its forces to concentrate on defeating Kirigakure. In this way, Konoha can catch its breath and even switch from defense to offense.

But Sakumo Hatake chose to save his teammate.

Isn't a person's life a life too?

What if this life were yours?

Who can answer this?

Sakumo raised his head and looked at Uchiha Sakugo.

There was no weariness or regret in those eyes, only a calm and composed one.

"Kato's puppets can be replaced if they break, and new ones can be made if his Jonin dies. But there are only two of Kurosawa and Rin; once they're gone, they're gone. Missions can be done again. But once people die, they can't come back."

Shuoge stood there, the wind blowing from the other side of the desert, carrying the smell of sand and gunpowder.

He thought of the mirror—that person was the same.

He sent out his men to protect him, leaving only two people by his side.

Then he died.

He didn't know if Jing regretted it.

But he knew that if given the chance to do it all over again, Jing would do the same thing. Just like White Fang. Just like all people like that. Valuing their comrades' lives more than the mission, and their own lives less than their comrades'.

"Will you regret it?" Shuoge asked.

Sakumo looked at him for a long time. "No."

He stood up, picked up the knife, and brushed the sand off his pants.

"Those who live regret it. Those who are dead have no regrets."

he's gone.

Go treat Rin's wounds, change Kurosawa's dressings, and do what a captain should do.

Shuoge stood there, watching his back.

That figure wasn't as tall as the legends described, nor as sharp as a blade.

It was just the back of an ordinary person, a little hunched over, a little tired, with his left leg dragging slightly as he walked. But it was straight. Like a tree that had been bent by the wind but then straightened itself.

Shuoge touched the sword at his waist. The one engraved with the character "Mirror".

White Fang should shine on the battlefield, not die a pathetic death at home.

A crimson glint flashed in Uchiha Sakugo's pupils.