I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

When the two returned to the camp, it was just dawn.

Sakumo Hatake walked ahead, carrying Kato's severed head in his hand.

The blood had stopped dripping; it had dried and formed dark red scabs, plastering onto his hair and neck. Shuoge followed behind, his knife at his back, the tear in his clothes still unrepaired.

The guards at the camp gate saw it first.

The man's mouth was agape, his eyes were wide open, and he almost dropped the kunai in his hand.

"That's... Kato?" His voice sounded like someone was choking him. "The frontline commander of Sunagakure? White Fang actually... killed him?"

No one answered him.

Sakumo Hatake walked past him without stopping.

News travels faster than people.

When the two reached the center of the camp, it was already surrounded by people.

The first person to see Kato's head dropped the basin of water in his hand, spilling water all over the ground, and no one picked it up.

The second person saw it, the rice ball he was holding rolled onto the sand, his eyes were fixed on the human head, and his mouth was open.

"It's Kato...it really is Kato..."

"Did White Fang really kill him? By himself?"

"You're not mistaken, are you? That Kato? The frontline commander of Sunagakure?"

"The heads are right here, how could I possibly be mistaken?"

Someone in the crowd gasped.

The man who had smashed the bowl outside the tent stood at the front, his lips trembling, his eyes fixed on the severed head in Hatake Sakumo's hand, his face as white as a corpse.

The man behind him who had said, "White Fang is old, his sword is slow," huddled in the crowd, his voice barely audible, "He...he really killed Kato..."

The voice that had been saying "saving two people means losing dozens" in the medical tent suddenly reappeared, muttered in a low voice, as if talking to itself: "If he had killed Kato earlier, so many people wouldn't have died on the front lines..."

He was halfway through his sentence when he was glared at by the person next to him, and he swallowed the words back.

Someone else chimed in, "Shut up. Last time the Sand Village launched their surprise attack, if it weren't for White Fang holding the line on the eastern front, would you still be standing here making sarcastic remarks?"

The man opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn't find the words, so he turned his face away.

Sakumo Hatake stood in the middle of the camp, holding Kato's severed head in his hand, his face expressionless.

He didn't look at anyone, and he didn't say a word.

Those around him who had previously smashed the bowl, made sarcastic remarks, or spread rumors that he was "old" or "cowardly" all kept quiet, their eyes darting away, not daring to meet his gaze.

The wind came in from outside and stood in the center of the camp.

He scanned the faces of those people, his voice not loud, but every word clear: "Sunagakure has withdrawn its troops. Chiyo herself promised. The war is over."

The camp was quiet for a long time.

The man who smashed the bowl was the first to react, his voice trembling: "They...they retreated? The Sand Village retreated?"

The person next to him shoved him: "Didn't you hear? Elder Chiyo of Sunagakure said it! The war is over!"

"Is it really over? We don't need to fight anymore?"

"No need to fight anymore—"

"No need to fight anymore!"

Someone was squatting on the ground, covering their face, their shoulders shaking.

Some people stood there, their eyes red and their lips trembling.

Someone turned around, went back into the tent, pulled the curtain closed, and cried inside.

Those who had been spreading rumors stood in the crowd, looking at each other, their faces flushing red and then turning pale, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

The war is over; we should be happy.

But their previous words felt like a slap in the face, burning with pain.

Sakumo Hatake stood there, looking at the people who were crying, the people who had bowed their heads, and the people who were avoiding him.

He didn't say anything. He placed Kato's head on the ground, turned around, and left.

The crowd automatically parted to make way; no one dared to block the way, no one dared to utter a sound. The footsteps grew fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared into the tent.

The curtain fell, shutting out the outside world.

Feng was still standing in the center of the camp, looking at the faces of those people.

Those who were most active before, who were the most vocal in their criticism, and who spoke ill of White Teeth, are now all cowering in a corner, not daring to lift their heads.

He looked away, turned and left.

In the camp, some people were packing their luggage, some were writing letters back to their village, and some were lost in thought by the campfire.

A Chunin squatted on the sand, drew a line on the sand with his finger, then drew another line, muttering something like, "I can go home now."

A genin standing next to him was looking at him with red eyes.

The man who had smashed the bowl earlier stood outside the crowd, looking in the direction of Hatake Sakumo's tent, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.

In the end, he didn't say anything, turned around and left.

His walking posture has changed. He no longer walks with that confident and assertive stride. Instead, he walks hunched over, as if he's carrying a stone on his back.

Those rumors, those complaints, those "what if White Fang hadn't abandoned the mission"—from today onward, no one will mention them anymore.

Like footprints in the desert, they disappear with a gust of wind.

……

……

……

There were only two people in Hatake Sakumo's tent.

He sat behind the folding table, the wound on his shoulder already treated, the bandage tightly wrapped, a trace of blood seeping through.

Shuoge stood opposite him, his knife leaning against the table. A gust of wind slipped in through the gap in the curtain, causing the candlelight to flicker.

"Do you know the whereabouts of Sasori of the Red Sand?" Sakumo Hatake asked bluntly.

"The Uchiha's intelligence network is larger than you imagine."

Shuoge's voice was very flat.

"Chiyo knows that the Third Kazekage was killed by Sasori, and the Sunagakure leadership knows this, but they dare not make it public. Once it is made public, Sunagakure will lose even its last fig leaf. Therefore, Chiyo needs Sasori, whether he is alive or dead."

Sakumo Hatake looked at him. "Are you going to find him?"

"unnecessary."

Shuoge's lips twitched slightly, not in a smile, but in something fainter.

"Our Hokage will be even more anxious. The Sand Village's withdrawal is merely a ceasefire. For a true alliance, Chiyo's condition is finding Sasori. Once this reaches the Third Hokage's ears, he will mobilize the entire Hidden Leaf Village to search for him. The Anbu, Root, and the Fire Country Daimyo's channels—all of them will be activated."

Sakumo Hatake remained silent for a moment.

He got it.

This kid wasn't playing chess alone from the very beginning.

He told the Third Hokage about Chiyo's conditions, and the Third Hokage would risk his life to find Sasori for the sake of the alliance, for military achievements, and for the position of Hokage.

Is Danzo up to something?

The third generation was the first to be suppressed.

This is a credit for ending the war and forging an alliance; anyone who stands in their way is an enemy of Konoha.

"Chiyo wants a grandson," Sakugo said softly. "The Third Generation wants to end the war. Both sides are elderly; isn't it only natural to help them fulfill their wishes?"

Sakumo Hatake stared at him for a long time.

He schemed against the Third Hokage, against Chiyo, against the entire Hidden Leaf Village and the Sand Village.

He suddenly remembered what he was doing at that age—practicing swordsmanship by the river, raiding bird nests in trees, and waiting for his father to return from the battlefield.

I'm not sitting here teaching the Hokage how to do things.

"What do you want me to do?" Sakumo Hatake asked.

"Alive." Sakugo turned and lifted the curtain. "Once the Third Hokage finds Sasori's whereabouts, come with me to capture him. How can we deliver him to Chiyo if we don't capture him alive?"

Uchiha Sakugo is gone.

The wind blew in from outside the curtain and extinguished the candle.

Sakumo Hatake sat in the darkness, listening to the footsteps fade into the distance. He suddenly smiled, a brief laugh, like light reflecting off a blade. The brat said he didn't need to find Sasori, but he needed a knife.

A knife that can bring a scorpion back alive.

Even now, we must make the most of the resources at hand.

"What an irresistible brat."

-

The news spread for three days, completely changing the atmosphere of the entire western front camp.

It wasn't the kind of celebration that comes after a victory; it was something quieter—some people were sunbathing outside their tents, some were washing their dirty clothes, and some were cooking a pot of hot soup around the fire, drinking and daydreaming as they sat around the pot.

The news of Sunagakure's withdrawal was confirmed by the Third Hokage himself; a notice was posted at the entrance of the Hokage Building, with black ink on white paper and a red seal.

No one doubted it anymore.

The sentries at the camp gate started chatting during their changing of the guard. It was no longer the kind of conversation about "how many more people died yesterday," but rather about "what do you want to eat when we get back?"

There were fewer wounded in the medical tents, the bandages were being changed at a slower pace, and medicines were no longer in short supply.

Someone was throwing shuriken in an open space; it wasn't training, it was just boredom.

Someone pulled a crumpled letter out of their backpack, sat on the sand dune to read it, laughed as they read, and then put it away again.

The war is not completely over yet. The retreat of Sunagakure will take time, and there are still occasional small-scale skirmishes along the border.

But the tension that had been building for over a year finally eased.

The dead will not come back, but the living can go home.

In the largest tent in the center of the camp, the Third Hokage's secret letter was only passed on to a few people.

The letter was short—the retreat of the Sand Village was a done deal, and a ceasefire agreement would be signed soon.

However, the alliance agreement had an additional condition: find Sasori of the Red Sand, alive. This message wasn't posted on the bulletin board, nor circulated around the campfire; in fact, most Chunin and Genin were unaware of it.

The Third Hokage wrote a few lines at the end of the letter, the handwriting heavier and the strokes more forceful than before: "This matter concerns the long-standing alliance between Konoha and Sunagakure, and is known only to a select few. Sasori's whereabouts are being investigated, and the Daimyo of the Land of Fire has agreed to assist. We will make further arrangements when the time is right."

The wind folded the letter neatly and tucked it into his bosom.

He stepped out of the tent, the sunlight so bright it made him squint.

In the camp, some people were laughing, some were playing around, and some were packing their luggage.

He stood at the tent entrance, looking at the relaxed faces, and remembered what Sakugo had said—"The Third Hokage will be more anxious than I am." Now he knew what that meant.

What was made public was a ceasefire, a triumphant return of heroes, and a victory for the Will of Fire.

What remains undisclosed is the transaction, the bargaining chips, another hunt that has yet to begin.

The sun was shining brightly, the wind was gentle, and the atmosphere at the campsite felt like spring had arrived early.

But the wind knows that someone is sharpening their knife in the shadows.

……

……

……

The Third Hokage took action the very day the news of Sunagakure's retreat reached Konoha.

It's not just talk, it's real action.

He locked himself in the Hokage's office, with three maps spread out in front of him—the Land of Fire, the Land of Wind, and the Land of Rivers.

The pipe went out again and again, and the intelligence scrolls on the table piled up half a foot high. The secret agents came and went, each batch returning with new information and leaving with new instructions.

"Sasori hid for two years, Chiyo searched for two years, and the Sand Village's intelligence network searched the entire Land of Wind but still couldn't find him."

The Third Hokage said to Koharu Utatane beside him, "But we are not Sunagakure. Konoha's intelligence network is ten times larger than Sunagakure's."

He wasn't exaggerating.

The Land of Fire is the most powerful of the Five Great Nations, and Konoha is the core of the Land of Fire.

The Anbu, Root, regular ninja forces, plus the shogunate's intelligence network under the Fire Country's daimyo, could cover the entire ninja world.

No matter how well a scorpion hides, it can't hide forever.

one day.

The intelligence was locked in just one day.

"The Land of Rivers. A small town called 'River Mouth' located at the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind."

The member of the secret service knelt before the table, his voice low and menacing.

"The target used the alias 'Akasuna' and worked as a puppeteer in the area, taking on assassination missions. He kept a low profile, but occasionally bought puppet parts. We followed this lead."

The third generation picked up the intelligence report, read it once, and then read it again.

The land of rivers is a neutral zone, belonging to no major power.

The scorpion was hiding there, neither in the Land of Wind nor the Land of Fire, but perfectly positioned in the gap between the two sides.

No wonder Chiyo couldn't find him.

He put down the intelligence report, picked up a pen, and began writing the transfer order.

The first batch was sent to the western front camp.

"Sakumo Hatake will lead a four-person squad and depart immediately for the Land of Rivers." The second squad will remain in Konoha. "Jiraiya will lead a team of three Chunin and depart immediately to meet the western squad in the Land of Rivers."

Xiaochun, who was turning over in her room, frowned as she looked at the two transfer orders.

"Aren't two elite squads too much? It's just a rogue ninja. Even though he killed the Third Kazekage, he's still just one person."

The third generation looked up at her.

"He's no ordinary rogue ninja. He's Chiyo's grandson. If he falls into Konoha's hands alive, Sunagakure will owe us a huge favor. If he dies, we won't be able to explain it to Chiyo. So, we need him alive."

He paused. "Besides, Jiraiya's been idling around in the village lately anyway, so he might as well go out and stretch his legs."

Koharu didn't say anything more. She watched as the Third Generation handed the transfer order to the Anbu, and watched the Anbu disappear out the window.

This old friend has never been so decisive since the outbreak of the war.

It wasn't because he suddenly became stronger, but because he finally saw an opportunity to end the war.

At the western camp, Hatake Sakumo was wiping his sword when he received his transfer order. After reading the scroll, he looked up at Sakugo standing at the door.

"The Land of Rivers. Jiraiya started from the village, and we'll meet there."

Shuoge nodded. "Scorpions are hard to catch. But—"

This is quite a large-scale operation.

Sakumo Hatake + Jiraiya VS Sasori of the Red Sand?

Although Scorpion is quite strong.

But Shuoge didn't know how he would win this round.

"Get ready." Sakumo Hatake stood up and hung his sword at his waist.

"We'll depart later."

That evening, Hatake Sakumo, Sakugo, and two Chunin set off from the western camp and headed east.

At the same time, Jiraiya, accompanied by three Chunin, set off from Konoha Village and headed west.

Two small teams, six ninjas in total, converged on the Land of Rivers from two directions.

The Third Hokage stood on the top floor of the Hokage Building, watching the sun sink below the western mountains. In his hand, he held a draft of a ceasefire agreement that had already been written, only lacking the seal of Sunagakure.

"It's almost over."

He was talking to himself.

A gust of wind blew, scattering the embers in the pipe.