Konoha: Superman template, the spoiled brat becomes strong.

The leaves of the memory tree rustled, as if echoing his quickening heartbeat.

Bai Ye pressed the leaf to her chest, the word "tear" on her wristband digging painfully into her skin.

He gazed at the unfamiliar mountain silhouette, a faint smile playing on his lips—he had finally found another place to go.

Chapter 926 Echoes from the South Cave

The moonlight from Guiyuan Shrine was fragmented by the branches of the Memory Tree, and when it fell on the new leaf in Baiye's palm, the golden patterns moved as if they were alive.

He could feel a subtle tremor beneath the leaf flesh, like some ancient resonance awakening.

As he gently rubbed his fingertips over the words "Southern Cave of Konoha," the word "tear" on the fragment of his wristband suddenly stung painfully—it was embroidered with his mother's blood before she died, and for the past twenty years, every time he touched it, it was like a reminder that some things had to be torn apart by his own hands.

“It’s not that they forgot to mark it…it’s that they were afraid someone would find it.” He muttered to himself, and the moment the spores seeped into the veins of the leaf through the gaps in the wristband, a pale green topographic map appeared on his retina.

The underground river, like a severed snake, twists into a cluster of caves beneath the cliffs of the southern border. All the contour lines that should have been marked on the official maps have been deliberately painted blank.

Wood Release chakra seeped into the ground through his fingertips, and the residual sealing technique fluctuations in the earth's veins pierced his consciousness like thorns—that was a technique that only the Senju clan could set up, used to seal away something far more than an ordinary secret.

As the eastern sky began to lighten, Qi Sui was squatting in the abandoned dye house pavilion in the capital.

With her fingertips stained with her own blood, she wrote rapidly on the parchment, the blood droplets falling onto the four characters "Guiyuan Shrine," spreading out like an inextinguishable fire.

The footsteps of patrolling ninjas came from downstairs, the sound of armor rubbing against each other growing closer. She suddenly stuffed the paper into the mechanical bird's chest cavity, pressed her finger on the beak, and the bronze gears began to turn.

“This time, you can’t burn it.” She whispered to the mechanical bird, the spores between its feathers almost invisible in the morning light.

The moment the mechanical bird flapped its wings and soared into the sky, the attic window was shattered by a kunai, and three dark figures broke through the window and entered.

Nana flipped and leaped onto the roof beam, hearing a crisp "click" behind her—the sound of the mechanical bird being nailed to the wall with a kunai.

She hung from the beam, holding her breath, watching the leading ninja pull the blood-stained letter from the bird's belly, unaware that a few tiny feathers, mixed with the morning dew, drifted down and seeped into the cracks of the bluestone slab.

Bai Ye has been walking in the swamp for three days.

The stench of decaying grass mingled with the buzzing of mosquitoes, and every step felt like walking on rotten cotton.

His shoe suddenly stopped—there was a faint chakra fluctuation in the air, like a crumpled piece of paper, containing the lingering echo of the four words "First Emperor's Edict".

He thought, "A verbal curse trap. The old fogies at the Smith House are afraid that people will reveal their secrets, so they even seal away their voices."

A cool sensation rose in his throat. He flicked his finger to the side of his neck, and Wood Release chakra surged out along his meridians, with mycelium wrapping around his vocal cords like extremely fine green threads.

I tried using low-frequency resonance to produce syllables, and sure enough, it did not cause any obstruction.

“Clever, but not enough.” He twitched the corner of his mouth, his gaze sweeping over the muddy ground at his feet—three silence talismans were half-buried in the decaying leaves, and the seal of the Minister of Finance of the Land of Fire on the edge of the talisman was exactly the same as the mother seal that sealed the Guiyuan Shrine back then.

“What they fear is never the edict itself, but the truth within it.” Bai Ye crouched down, his fingertips tracing the talisman, and spores burrowed into the ground along the patterns.

In an instant, the flow of chakra throughout the swamp became as clear as a mirror in his mind: behind the reeds twenty paces away, five Shige guards were gripping kunai, the Silence Talisman gleaming coldly in the pouches at their waists.

As he stood up, the croaking of frogs in the swamp suddenly stopped.

The guards watched as the white-clad figure emerged from the mist, their Adam's apples bobbing, but they ultimately dared not utter the word "intercept"—the curse trap was equally effective on the caster, and they knew better than anyone that those who had uttered "the first edict" were now lying in the dungeons of the History Pavilion, their throats covered in curse marks.

Chapter 927 Crow's Tomb

"Get out of the way." Bai Ye's voice was like a polished stone, with a low-frequency vibration.

The guards' kunai clattered to the ground, not out of fear, but because they suddenly realized that their chakra was no match for this person.

As dusk settled over the precipice, Bai Ye finally saw the mountain.

The unnamed mountain shadows on the map gleamed bluish-black in the setting sun, and the entrance to the cave at its foot resembled a half-open eye.

He stood five steps away when the moonlight was suddenly obscured by clouds, revealing the runes on the stone wall—an ancient sealing technique of the Thousand Hands Clan, each stroke inscribed with the warning "Inviolable."

Bai Ye touched the wristband, the sensation of the word "tear" coming through his skin.

He gazed at the runes at the cave entrance, his smile paler than the night—what should be torn was never the paper itself.

As dusk tinged the cliffs with a bluish-gray hue, Bai Ye's fingertips gently traced the runes on the stone wall.

The intertwined incantations glowed with a faint blue light, and the chakra tentacles were burned and retracted as soon as they were probed in—it was indeed a "memory backlash array".

He gazed at the Thousand Hands Clan totem that was faintly visible among the runes, his Adam's apple bobbed, and the word "tear" that his mother had embroidered on his wrist with blood before her death suddenly felt hot, as if it would burn through his twenty years of forbearance.

“They’re afraid people will bring the truth in, so they strangle them with painful memories.” He chuckled and pulled half a rusty short needle from his pocket.

The needle was engraved with the spiral pattern unique to Sunagakure. It was given to him by Chiyo in a secret letter three days ago, with the note "Shadow-Broken Needle Fragment, which can disrupt the source of chakra".

As he brushed his fingertip against the word "broken" on the needle's end, he recalled the warmth of Chiyo's wrinkled hand holding the needle: "Shige's array core recognizes the 'cognitive weight' in chakra. You carry too much distorted history on your shoulders; you have to make them think you're a blank sheet of paper."

Wood Release chakra flowed from his fingertips into the remaining needle, and a pale green mist swirled around it.

He crouched down and plunged the needle into the ground. The life energy unique to the first generation of bloodline spread along the earth's veins—not in an eruption, but like spring rain seeping in.

The runes on the stone wall suddenly trembled violently, the blue light dimmed and brightened abruptly, and finally returned to calm.

When Bai Ye looked up, the incantation at the cave entrance had faded into a faint shadow, as if veiled by a thin gauze.

“Good needle,” he murmured, pulling out the puppet strings from behind his back.

The spare puppet "Crow's Tomb" made a soft cracking sound from its joints. This puppet, made of hickory wood, was wrapped in a faded black cloak, and two obsidian stones were embedded in its eye sockets.

He flicked his finger, and the puppet strings stretched taut like a bowstring, causing "Crow's Tomb" to stagger into the cave entrance.

Suddenly, a sound like rocks cracking erupted inside the cave.

Byakuya's pupils contracted slightly—what fell from the cave ceiling were not pebbles, but strings of diamond-shaped kunai, each wrapped with chakra threads as thin as gossamer.

"Crow's Tomb" extended his right arm to parry with a short sword, but suddenly froze when it touched the kunai.

The chakra threads tightened instantly, and the puppet's chest cavity was ripped open, revealing the mechanical gears inside—the gears were twisted at bizarre angles, as if crushed by an invisible hand.

“It’s a ‘cognitive pollution’ trap.” Bai Ye pressed his thumb against his temple, the last image of the puppet before it was destroyed still lingering in his chakra network: the kunai was engraved with the micro-carving “The Will of Fire Cannot Be Defied”, which was the brainwashing mark that Shige used.

He twitched the corner of his mouth and retracted the puppet strings into his sleeve—the trap had been exposed, and the road ahead would be easier.

The damp air from deep within the cave, mingled with the scent of pine resin, wafted out.

Bai Ye pressed his palm against the cave wall, and the lines under his fingertips suddenly became clear—not natural stone patterns, but inscriptions carved with a knife.

Chapter 928 Decision by the People

He looked up by the light of the tinderbox, and the densely packed small characters on the stone wall made him gasp: "The First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, swore: The Kage of the nation is not to control the people, but to supervise the Daimyo and the Kage. If either of them breaks the oath of 'decided by the people,' the Kage may depose them on behalf of the people."

"I see." His voice was hoarse as his fingers traced the four characters "decided by the people," as if he could feel the warmth of Hashirama Senju when he carved those words.

The source of the "Will of Fire" tampering case that he had been investigating for twenty years was actually here—Steig changed "supervision" to "control" and removed the word "people" from the contract.

The door to the deepest stone chamber is five steps away.

The crystal box above the door gleamed with a warm light. Inside was a scroll sealed with bark and resin, the title of which, “The Will of Fire: Final Chapter,” stood out prominently in the firelight.

Just as Bai Ye's fingertips touched the box lid, the ground suddenly cracked open with spiderweb-like fissures.

Black mist surged out from the crack, and a stench-laden wind rushed toward the edict. Countless distorted human faces could be vaguely seen in the mist—these were memory-devouring beasts that fed on the chakra that carried true history.

"I've been waiting for you." Byakuya bit his fingertip, and blood dripped onto the ground. Wood Release chakra grew wildly like vines.

A "Forest of Memories" instantly bloomed at the top of the cave, with each leaf glowing with a different light: there was a blood-written letter from farmers of the Land of Fire resisting heavy taxes, a fragment of a scroll from a ninja of the Land of Lightning shielding civilians from harm, and a copy of the "Decision by the People" contract that had been burned by the Shige.

The Devouring Beast's black mist suddenly changed direction, lunging at the Memory Forest like a starving beast. The moment the leaves were enveloped by the black mist, they emitted a shrill cry similar to that of a baby.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Bai Ye grabbed the edict, stuffed it into his pocket, and ran away.

He could feel the black mist approaching from behind, and the spores in his chakra network suddenly felt a tingling sensation—it was a signal connecting to Chiyo's "Hundred Machine Copying" array.

Normally at this time, the spores should have sent back to Chiyo with surprise or relief upon seeing the contents of the edict, but this time, all that returned was deathly silence.

“Chiyo?” he called softly, chakra tentacles extending along the spore network.

The scene of the Sunagakure ancestral home suddenly became clear in her mind: Chiyo was kneeling in front of the "Hundred Puppet Copying" array, the joints of the sixty puppets were all stuck with runes as thin as hair, and the red-eyed control stick was hanging on the ground.

In the shadows, Ebizo pressed the last talisman into the puppet's heart, the gold dust on his fingertips gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

“Some truths…shouldn’t be revealed yet.” Ebizo’s voice, like a shard of ice, pierced through the spore network and into Byakuya’s ears.

Bai Ye's steps suddenly stopped.

The edict in his arms suddenly became scalding hot. He could hear Chiyo's low curse coming from afar, as well as the crisp sound of puppet joints breaking.

The moonlight outside the cave was obscured by clouds, and the leaves of the Memory Forest shattered in the black mist. On his wristband, the bloodline of the word "tear" was climbing up his skin, as if urging him—what needed to be torn was never just Shigeru's lies.

Moonlight streamed through the carved windows of the Sunagakure ancestral home, casting a frosty glow on Chiyo's silver hair.

She knelt in the center of the "Hundred Machines Copying" array, the joints of the sixty puppets still stuck with runes as thin as hair, the red-eyed control sticks dangling to the ground, like a ferocious beast whose teeth had been pulled out.

"Old man..." she muttered under her breath, her withered fingers stroking the forehead of the front row puppet "Hundred Machines".

This old companion of hers, which had been with her for forty years, had unnatural gold spots on the edges of its core chip—traces of tampered chakra commands.

Chapter 929 Observatory

She bit her tongue, and a drop of blood fell onto the chip. Half of a swirling pattern emerged from the blood mist, which was the "Wind Shadow Special Seal" that Ebizo had kept privately.

Bai Ye in the cave suddenly staggered, a stinging sensation coming from the spores in the chakra network.

He leaned against the date palm tree in the oasis, the edict in his arms still warm, the remaining fragments of spores drifting in his consciousness like a kite with a broken string.

“Chiyo’s signal was cut off too cleanly.” He took out the kunai from his waist and drew Ebizo’s name on the sand, the tip of the pen heavily stabbing into the character “Zo”. This old fox who always talked about “the interests of Sunagakure” always stood in the middle of every change, but always removed the supporting planks at the most critical point.

Inside the ancestral home, Chiyo dug her fingernails into her palm.

She knew that Ebizo wouldn't do it himself, just like when he assassinated the Kazekage, he always stood behind the scenes manipulating the strings.

She turned and walked towards the tea cabinet. At the bottom of the sandalwood drawer lay half a spore mother, a contingency plan that Bai Ye had laid three years ago.

Just as her fingertips were about to touch the mother's body, footsteps came from outside the window—it was the sound of a maid bringing night tea.

She quickly stuffed the mother's body into the bottom of the teacup saucer, then took out an ordinary tea cake from her sleeve and pressed it on, her movements as fast as a gust of wind.

"Madam, the new tea from the observatory has arrived." The maid's voice drifted in through the curtain.

Chiyo wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, and deliberately knocked over the bronze incense burner when she picked up the tea tray. Incense ash fell onto the talisman, obscuring the cold light of the gold powder.

“Send it to the observatory.” Her voice was hoarse, like an old bellows. “That guy Ebizo always says that tea under the moonlight best reflects the star trails.”

The white night in the desert suddenly looked up.

The wind whipped sand against his face, but he could faintly smell the scent of jasmine—Chiyo's favorite incense, mixed with the spore mother's special chakra.

"She's sending a signal." His pupils suddenly contracted, and his fingertips pressed against the bloodline of the word "tear" on the wristband. The bloodline was crawling up his skin towards his elbow, like a red snake.

In the southern rainforest, the cloak of the seven-eared gossamer dripped water.

She squatted behind the statue in the abandoned temple, with half a yellowed sheet of paper spread out in front of her—it was a list of alterations made by the Fire Kingdom's History Bureau over the past three years, the ink still damp.

“The historian Li said this was all he could get.” She touched the crease in the corner of the paper, evidence that his hand was trembling when he handed it to her.

But when she stuffed the list into the mailbox and sent out the first messenger, flames suddenly rose at the foot of the mountain; the second messenger had just crossed the wooden bridge when blue flames erupted from his body; when she found the body of the third messenger, the chakra meridians in his brain were charred black.

“It wasn’t to silence him.” She plucked a lock of the deceased’s hair, placed it in her palm, and burned it with chakra. The smell of burning was mixed with a faint sandalwood scent—exactly the same as the incense in the Archives of the History Museum.

“They’re monitoring who knows the secret.” Her fingertips dug into the cracks in the stone, blood seeping from under her nails. “Everyone who has come into contact with the truth has become a living mark.”

The forest of memories in the cave was still collapsing. When the last leaf shattered, Byakuya heard Chiyo's sigh.

He took out the edict from his pocket. Moonlight shone through the thin paper, and the four words "decided by the people" seemed to burn through his palm.

Ebizo understood his calculations—Sunagakure needed reform, but it had to be led by Sunagakure itself; the truth could be spread, but it couldn't shake Sunagakure's bargaining power in the Five Kingdoms' power struggle.

“The old fox wants a controllable game.” He stuck a kunai into the sand and drew seven circles around the three characters “Ebizo.” “Then I’ll give him a game he has to play himself.”

Chapter 930 Controllable Change

The edict was burning hot in his palm. He suddenly smiled. The bloodline of the word "tear" on his wristband had already climbed up to his elbow.

As the moonlight illuminated the desert once more, he tore open the cover of the edict, revealing seven dark patterns—each pattern standing alone, yet all indispensable.

“It’s not just Shige’s lies that need to be torn apart.” He whispered to the wind, stuffing the seven pieces of paper into seven different mailboxes. “This time, it’s my turn to make the move.” As the moonlight shattered into silver dust on the sand, Bai Ye’s fingertips had already etched the final incantation on the carapace of the seventh sand scorpion puppet.

He crouched in the shade of the oasis, his knees pressing against half a weathered rock slab. The fragments of the edict slowly rotated in the ball of chakra light, like seven autumn leaves frozen in place.

"Ebizo wants controlled change?" He chuckled softly, his fingertip tracing the barb on the puppet's tail stinger—it was made from ancient pottery shards from the Sand Village ruins, its pattern perfectly matching that of a desert scorpion.

As chakra was injected, a faint blue light flashed in the puppet's compound eyes. It was a "dormant mode" that he had specially adjusted: the miniature megaphone in his throat would only be activated when the academy teacher described "the Land of Fire's suppression of the rebellion" as "benevolent governance" or when the seal-making apprentice wrote "the famine in Sunagakure" as "the virtuous governance of the Kazekage".