Konoha: Superman template, the spoiled brat becomes strong.

--Door.

The dampness seeping from the cave walls, mixed with the smell of rust, entered his nostrils. Bai Ye stared at the dark gold core in the iron box in his palm, his fingertips gently tracing the spiral patterns.

The cries etched deep in my memory suddenly became clear—the soul trapped in the Eye of the Blood Pact fifty years ago wasn't crying, but was using its last strength to roar a warning.

“It can locate other fragments and also shut down the Blood Pact Eye.” Gray Shadow’s voice was like a withered branch scraping against an earthenware pot, his hunched back almost touching the cave wall. “But what you asked about, ‘going back to the past’…” The old man suddenly coughed violently, his knuckles tapping on his hemp robe with a hollow sound. “The First Generation tried it.”

He used this core to watch the Night of the Massacre three times. The third time, his shadow began to sink into the mural, as if being pulled into a rift in time by an unseen hand.

Bai Ye's breath hitched.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed three days earlier in the ruins of the Land of Whirlpools: a person standing amidst the broken walls and rubble, with half a puppet blade embedded in the other's chest, blood flowing down his pale skin.

At the time, he thought it was an illusion, but now he suddenly understands—perhaps that is the concrete manifestation of the "price".

“There are three squads of ANBU outside the cave, and two squads of puppeteers.” Chiyo’s sand condensed into fine needles at her fingertips, her gaze fixed on the sky outside the cave, dyed blood red by the twilight. “Ebizo has waited twenty years for this day, ever since he pushed his own son into the puppet furnace.” The old woman suddenly turned her head, and the sand needles “dinged” into the stone wall, precisely piercing the chakra worms that were trying to sneak in through the ventilation shaft. “What he wanted was not to resurrect the ancient masters, but to have the remnant souls of those madmen attach themselves to the puppets and fight a ‘war of time’ for him.”

"The Puppet Reincarnation Technique has been activated."

A hoarse cawing tore through the air as a summoned beast raven fluttered down onto Chiyo's shoulder, clutching a blood-stained secret letter between its claws.

When Bai Ye reached out to take it, the raven's beak gently pecked at the spiral mark on his wrist—a pattern that appeared after contact with the blood pact fragment, now slightly warm with his heartbeat.

The letter, still stained with fresh blood, was an urgent report from the captain of the Sunagakure ANBU: "Ebi has deployed a thousand puppets on the outskirts of the Land of Wind. Lord Raikage led five hundred ninjas to intercept them, but the puppets can absorb chakra..." The words were blurred by blood, leaving only the last sentence: "The eyes of those puppets are exactly the same as the blood-red giant eyes in the murals..."

The sound of metal scraping came from outside the cave, like countless gears turning at the same time.

Chapter 840 Twelve Death Warriors

Chiyo's sand suddenly expanded into a hemispherical shield, enveloping the four of them.

Through the sand wall, Bai Ye saw three dark figures darting across the treetops. The leader had twelve ebony puppets hanging from his waist—these were Ebizo's most prized "Twelve Death Warriors," each containing the remnant soul of a Jonin.

“Take the core and go.” Gray Shadow suddenly grabbed White Night’s wrist, his hand as cold as if it had just been taken out of an ice coffin. “Go to the altar at the ruins of the Land of Whirlpools, where the final seal of the First Generation is buried.”

But remember... "The old man's fingernails were almost digging into the flesh of the White Night," and each time the core is used, the time rift will swallow one more 'possible future'.

The version of yourself you see in the ruins is the one that was swallowed up.

Before the words were even finished, the puppet blades of the twelve assassins had already pierced through the sand wall.

Chiyo let out a low shout, and the sand grains transformed into steel blades to meet the attack, instantly creating a metallic clang that echoed outside the cave.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Gray Shadow staggered back into the depths of the cave. His hemp robe was torn by the gravel, revealing a hideous old scar on his back—a mark passed down through generations of tomb keepers, sewn shut with puppet threads, a seal to prevent the soul from being sucked away by the Eye of Blood Pact.

"Wait!" Bai Ye wanted to chase after her, but Chiyo grabbed his arm.

The old woman's sand shield blocked another attack, her white hair at her temples flying wildly in the chakra currents. "He should have died in the sacrifice fifty years ago; he's just clinging to life with forbidden techniques." She stared at the iron box in Bai Ye's palm, her gaze suddenly sharpening like a blade. "You plan to use the core?"

Bai Ye did not answer.

He gazed at the churning chakra storm outside the cave, recalling the wide-open eyes of the Fire Country's daimyo when he died, the banners of envoys from various countries gathering on the outskirts of the Fire Country, and the Gray Shadow's words, "Fill the pits of the past with the blood of the present"—if he didn't use the core to locate the other fragments, Ebizo would use living people to sacrifice the complete Blood Pact Eye, and at that time, the entire ninja world would be dragged into the time turbulence.

But then the image of "myself," covered in blood, reappeared in the ruins.

He touched his chest; there was no injury, but his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

The core warmth seeped into his veins through his palms, and he suddenly heard the voice of the first puppeteer, mixed with the roar of the soul from fifty years ago, exploding deep within his consciousness: "Don't let them use living people as sacrifices for time..."

"Byakuya!" Chiyo's voice suddenly rose.

He then realized that he had unknowingly stood at the edge of the sand shield, and the spiral pattern at its core was emitting a dark red light, echoing the mark on his wrist.

The old woman's sand crystals coalesced into chains at his feet, only to dissipate before touching his skin—she ultimately refused to use force.

Outside the cave, the puppets of the twelve assassins emitted piercing screams as they drew closer.

Bai Ye looked down at the core, where blood-red mist seemed to surge within the dark gold patterns.

He recalled the gray shadow saying, "Now you hold the key, and you also hold..." The unfinished words might have been "disaster" or "hope".

But in any case, he knew he had to make a choice—just like the first generation chose to divide the seal, just like Ebizo chose to sacrifice a living person, just like now, his fingertips were uncontrollably pressing towards the indentation in the center of the core.

"No..." Chiyo's voice suddenly became as soft as a sigh.

Bai Ye's movements stopped.

He looked up and saw an unprecedented panic surging in the old woman's eyes. Grains of sand swirled around her, as if they might rush over at any moment to snatch the core.

Chapter 841 It Will Only Get Worse

Outside the cave, the puppet blades of the twelve assassins had pierced the last layer of sand shield. The cold light reflected off his taut jawline, clearly revealing his wavering at this moment.

Chiyo's sand, which had formed a chain on her fingertips, finally failed.

As she watched the arc of Bai Ye's robes fluttering as he turned around, a metallic taste rose in her throat—a sign of excessive chakra depletion.

The old woman staggered and clung to the cave wall, her wrinkles beneath her white hair furrowed with anxiety: "Don't touch that fragment!" Her raised voice struck the stone wall, sending a few pebbles flying. "We can't let anyone have the power to change the past!"

The thing that the first Hokage sealed with half his life, you want to...

"But what if we do nothing?" Bai Ye's voice was colder than the wind outside the cave.

He stopped at the edge of the swamp, the dark gold core in his palm and the spiral mark on his wrist glowing red at the same time, like two clusters of flames about to burn through his skin.

Behind him came the screech of the twelve assassin puppets' blades scraping against the sand shield. He recalled the description of "puppets absorbing chakra" in Rasa's secret letter, and the blood-red giant eyes reflected in the pupils of the Fire Country's daimyo when he died—those living people sacrificed by Ebizo were now screaming in the puppets in another way.

“The future will only get worse.” He gripped the core tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The spiral patterns on the core surface suddenly began to rotate, causing the mark on his wrist to rotate in sync. A scalding force surged up his spine through his blood vessels, causing a tingling, stinging pain in his coccyx.

"white night!"

New voices of dissuasion came from outside the cave.

Shuiyue burst through the sand shield, her hair still dripping with the blood of the Dark Guard—she had clearly just returned from the battlefield of the Land of Wind.

The female ninja, who always had a kunai in her mouth, had red eyes and was clutching half a blood-stained puppet string in her left hand: "Do you know that once you use the 'Blood Pact Eye,' your consciousness might be trapped in the past?"

Gray Shadow said that when the first generation's shadow was trapped in the mural, his soul cried out in the time rift for three days and three nights! "She pounced to grab the core, but her fingertips stopped when they touched the back of his hand—the skin there was becoming translucent at a visible speed, and the dark red light flowing in the veins could be vaguely seen."

Bai Ye looked down at the back of his translucent hand and suddenly smiled.

His smile was as clear and crisp as melting snow in early spring, yet it carried a hint of determination: "Then let me be the one trapped in the past." He took Shuiyue's trembling hand in return and pressed her fingertips against his heart. "It's still beating here, which means I still have the right to make a choice."

The moment Shuiyue's fingertips touched his heart, the core red light suddenly surged.

The crimson mist surging within the dark gold patterns exploded with a "boom," forming a distorted chakra barrier between the two.

Bai Ye felt as if countless invisible hands were pulling at his consciousness, his eardrums stinging from the pressure, and even Shui Yue's exclamation sounded distant—her lips were moving, but he could only hear a buzzing in his ears, much like the roars of those souls from fifty years ago.

"Catch this!"

The gray shadow's hoarse cry suddenly pierced through the chaos.

An old man staggered out from the depths of the cave, the seal of the tomb keeper on his back crumbling, the stitching puppet strings breaking one by one, revealing the ripped flesh beneath.

He tossed out a small bronze bottle, its mouth still oozing a ghostly blue chakra potion: "Use this to maintain your soul's stability!"

The first generation tried three times, and the third time... Before he could finish speaking, his figure suddenly became blurry, like smoke being blown away by the wind—the body maintained by the forbidden technique had finally collapsed.

Bai Ye grabbed the small bottle as she felt herself falling.

Chapter 842 The Descendants of the First Puppet Master

The coolness of the medicine seeped into his palm, temporarily suppressing the pain of his consciousness being torn apart.

He embedded the core into the puppet spores on his wrist. Suddenly, all the puppet worms that were parasitizing under his skin awakened and crawled along the blood vessels toward the core, turning into a golden-red chakra stream the moment they made contact.

Darkness swept in, overwhelming everything.

When Bai Ye opened his eyes again, he was standing on a patch of scorched earth.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of sulfur, and in the distance, mountains were erupting, with lava flows meandering down like giant red pythons.

He looked down and found himself wearing unfamiliar coarse linen clothes, with three wooden puppets hanging from his waist—exactly the same outfit as the first puppeteer in his memory.

"Watch out on your left!"

Amidst the deafening shouts of battle, a familiar figure swept past him.

That was Madara in his youth. He used Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation to condense a crimson ball in his palm and smashed it precisely at the mysterious person controlling the Blood Pact Eye twenty steps away.

Beside Ban, another man who bore a striking resemblance to Bai Ye was rapidly forming hand seals. His puppet strings shot out like silver snakes, binding the six pillars of the Blood Pact Eye—the first puppeteer.

“So that’s why…” Bai Ye’s throat tightened.

He saw the mysterious man wearing a black robe with red clouds, with half of his pale face visible under the hood, and a ring with a spiral pattern engraved on his right index finger—exactly the same as the mark on his wrist.

What made his blood freeze even more was that the ring was shimmering with the same dark gold light as the core, and the pupil of the Blood Pact Eye reflected the thousand puppets that Elder had hidden in the Land of Wind.

"Time is a cycle." The mysterious man suddenly turned his head.

The hood slipped down, revealing a face that struck Bai Ye like a thunderbolt—it was clearly himself, except for a hideous scar running from the corner of his eye down to his jaw. "You thought you were stopping it, but you were actually completing it."

The ground began to shake violently.

Bai Ye felt a cold liquid flowing from his nasal cavity, and his consciousness felt like shredded cloth being put into a meat grinder, being torn apart more and more every second.

He tried to rush over and grab the mysterious man, but his feet sank into the gradually solidifying lava—it wasn't lava at all, but dark red chakra, carrying the stench of human sacrifice.

"Come back quickly, Bai Ye!"

A familiar voice came from the void.

Is it Chiyo?

Or is it the moon reflected in water?

The distinction between day and night is blurred.

He glanced one last time at the ring on the mysterious man's finger, at the taut jawline of the first puppeteer, and at the reflection of a thousand puppets in the Eye of the Blood Pact—then darkness enveloped him once more.

In the instant before his consciousness faded, he heard his own heartbeat, one beat, two beats, like a war drum pounding against the wall of time.

The mysterious voice, tinged with a twisted laugh, mingled within: "Welcome to the web of cause and effect you have woven yourself."

The acrid smell of lava mixed with the stench of blood filled his nostrils, and Bai Ye's fingernails dug deeply into his palms—the rough linen fabric chafed his skin painfully, and this body that did not belong to him was swaying with the tremors of the battlefield.

He stared at the figure twenty paces away, forced to retreat by the extinguishing of the raging fire, and a metallic taste rose in his throat.

That was indeed a gray shadow.

It wasn't the gray shadow who now lives in seclusion in the swamp of old shadows, always stroking his white beard and saying "I'm too old to be of any use," but a young man in his twenties, with sharper brow bones than he does now, no wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, yet already possessing that melancholy expression he would later have.

The spiral ring on his right index finger was glowing with dark gold as he performed the hand seals, mirroring the light patterns emanating from the core of Bai Ye's wrist.

“You…” Bai Ye staggered forward, and chakra formed from lava suddenly wrapped around his ankle, like countless venomous snakes gnawing at his flesh. “You are a descendant of the first puppeteer.”

That blood pact eye...

Chapter 843 The Regretful Body in the Turbulent Time-Space Flow

As the young man in gray turned his head, the moment his hood slipped down, Bai Ye saw the cold hardness in his eyes—completely different from the gray figure who always talked about being an "old man."

But what froze his blood the most was the six pillars floating behind the other party, where the pupils of the Blood Pact Eyes were slowly rotating, each ripple reflecting the densely packed puppets in a sand valley somewhere in the Land of Wind, exactly the same layout that Ebizo had shown on the sand table three days ago.

"Time is a cycle." The young man's voice was as cold as ice. "You think you're investigating the truth, but you're just walking along the tracks you've carved yourself."

Madara's fire jutsu grazed the gray shadow's left shoulder and exploded, the shockwave flipping up Byakuya's collar.

Only then did he notice the first puppeteer not far away—it was clearly an older version of the expressionless gray shadow, with a scar at the corner of his eye running from his brow bone to his jaw, exactly like the "self" in the illusion a moment ago.

So the so-called "mysterious person" was just a shadowy figure from different timelines?

"white night!"

The boundary between reality and illusion suddenly cracked, and Chiyo's voice pierced her consciousness like a silver needle.

Bai Ye suddenly looked up and saw the sky above the scorched battlefield crack with spiderweb-like patterns, revealing a blurry scene below: He lay on a stone platform in the center of the ruins, with Gray Shadow kneeling beside him, his calloused hand pressed against his chest, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the stone bricks; Shui Yue stood at the entrance with her back to him, her broken sword pointing diagonally at the ground, a layer of frost on the blade, even her breath condensing into white mist.

"The chakra resonance was too strong!" Gray Shadow's voice cracked, his knuckles turning white from the force. "His consciousness was pulled into the spatial-temporal turbulence by the Blood Pact Eye. If he had been half a moment later..."

"What if we waited another half a quarter of an hour?" Shuiyue didn't turn around, but suddenly the tip of her knife slashed upwards—the sound of tearing fabric filled the air. "Something's approaching, is it a lingering entity from the spacetime turbulence?"

The lava in the illusion suddenly became viscous, and Bai Ye felt countless threads drilling into his temples.

He gazed at the puppet strings controlled by the first-generation puppeteer behind the young man in gray, the patterns on those silver strings perfectly matching the engravings on the core of his wrist.

So what the Gray Shadow Clan has been guarding for generations isn't puppetry, but time itself?