Konoha: Superman template, the spoiled brat becomes strong.

These spores were extracted from the roots of the Memory Tree three days ago and nurtured for forty-nine hours with his blood.

Shi Ge thought that burning the vines on the surface would sever his memories, but he didn't know that the real roots were underground, in every inch of soil trampled by the people.

"Rise." He gave a low shout, and the broken pillar suddenly trembled. Countless translucent spores poured out from the cracks and drifted with the wind toward more remote mountain villages.

A gust of wind swept the wisteria blossoms past the broken window, and one of them landed on his shoulder.

Bai Ye looked up and saw that the wind was blowing directly towards the City of Fire—where Nanaho's nighttime gathering was about to begin.

On the wasteland outside the City of Fire, Nana hung the last green bamboo lantern on the old locust tree.

The lantern paper glowed brightly in the firelight, casting dappled bamboo shadows on the ground.

"Grandma, it's your turn." She turned and nodded to the old storyteller in the corner, who stood up shakily and slammed his gavel: "Ladies and gentlemen, today we won't tell stories from the book, but from the truth—forty years ago, Shi Ge burned our village's edict, but I, this old man, still remember the words on it!"

Nana squatted in front of the pit, her fingertips drawing the path to a Wood Release Formation on the ground.

When she finished the last stroke, she bit her fingertip, and a drop of blood fell onto the center of the array. Immediately, tiny green shoots sprouted from the soil.

These buds will transform the storyteller's voice, the old ninja's cough, and the fallen priest's sigh into spores that seep into the soil.

Shi Ge sealed her secret agent token and burned her files, but he couldn't silence the people's mouths—she looked at the crowd sitting around, the old woman selling vegetables clutching her faded handkerchief, the earless ninja soldier stroking the broken sword at his waist, and the light in their eyes was brighter than a lantern.

Three days later, the noble district of the Fire Kingdom's capital was in an uproar.

Chapter 953 Purifying the World with Fire, Rectifying the Mind with Law

Lady Nishino-maru screamed and knocked over her teacup. In the cherry blossom garden she had just admired, all the cherry blossoms had turned into pale purple wisteria blossoms.

The words on the petals were exceptionally clear in the morning dew: "In the spring of the sixteenth year of Yongren, the daimyo knelt in the martial arts arena, begging the First Hokage to take the Land of Fire as a vassal state."

The vermilion gate of the Shige was slammed shut with a loud bang, and the hem of Shimura Retsu's court robe was covered with grass clippings.

When he rushed into the council hall, several elders were staring blankly at a patch of wisteria blossoms—picked from the plum tree in the Left Minister's house, the words "The Minister of History once burned three thousand letters from the common people" still glistening with dew on the petals.

"Purify! We must purify!" Shimura Retsu slammed his hand on the sandalwood table, veins bulging, the teacup bobbing from the impact. "Use the most powerful fire techniques to burn all the exotic flowers! Let the people know that the historian's pen is more powerful than their mouths!"

On the altar in the southern suburbs of the Fire Capital, three hundred Fire Release ninjas stood in the Big Dipper Formation.

Shimura Retsu, dressed in a black robe, stood in the center, his peach wood sword pointing to the sky: "Purify the world with fire, rectify the mind with law—rise!"

Just as Shimura Retsu's lips were about to curl into a smile as crimson flames rose, the ashes suddenly drifted away against the wind.

The black ash that should have fallen to the ground transformed into countless fireflies, flying towards the streets, farmlands, and eaves of the City of Fire.

Afu, the tofu seller, reached out and caught a piece of ashes. Golden characters were burned into his palm: "What you burned is what we remember." He looked up and saw the neighbor's child holding up the ashes and laughing. The old scholar adjusted his glasses and recited. Even the patrolling ninja stood still, staring blankly at the words in his palm.

Shimura Retsu's peach wood sword clattered to the ground.

He gazed at the fireflies in the sky and suddenly remembered a page of notes that had been eaten by insects when he was organizing the first generation's handbook twenty years ago: "Memory is like a seed; the more it is burned, the stronger the sprout will grow."

Meanwhile, in the Land of Wind, thousands of miles away, in the Sand Village's training grounds, the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, was wiping the ninja sword at his waist.

"Lord Kazekage." The messenger's voice came from outside the door, his footsteps so hurried they created a gust of wind. "An urgent report has arrived from the border outpost—the camel caravan deep in the desert says they saw words floating in the sand, like...like the handwritten edict of the First Kazekage."

Luo Sha's fingers paused on the hilt of the knife.

He gazed at the sandstorm blowing in the wind outside the window and suddenly remembered what Granny Chiyo had said yesterday: "Some memories cannot be buried by sand." The sandstorm in the Land of Wind receded before dawn, and Rasa's fingers remained on the hilt of his sword.

The messenger's words were like a scalding grain of sand, stuck in his throat—the ink on the parchment scroll sent from the border post was still wet: "An ancient well in the oasis springs forth, words float at the bottom of the spring, and the herdsmen kneel and chant 'the words of the ancestral spirits.'"

“Block the oasis.” His voice was colder than grains of sand.

Just as her fingertips were about to press the wax seal on the table, the curtain was suddenly lifted by the wind, and Granny Chiyo's cane thudded against the blue bricks.

The old woman, wrapped in a sand-colored cloak adorned with copper bells, seemed to be waking something up with every step she took: "Grandson, do you think those words just popped up out of nowhere?" She pulled a rough earthenware bowl from her bosom, half-filled with spring water at the bottom. "Take a sip."

Luo Sha stared at the water in the bowl.

Floating in the spring water were tiny, gold-leaf-like characters. He recognized them as the ancient script of the Land of Wind—the same crooked symbols his father had drawn on the sand before he died, clutching his hand.

"Grandma..." His Adam's apple bobbed, "This is..."

"Drink." Chiyo's voice carried an undeniable force.

The moment the ceramic bowl touched his lips, Luo Sha shivered.

The spring water was clear and cold, but it left a metallic taste in my throat—much like the blood foam in the medicine bowl beside my father's bedside.

Chapter 954 Opening the Border

He closed his eyes and swallowed, his consciousness suddenly plunging into darkness.

The sea of ​​sand surged before my eyes.

Six-year-old Luo Sha lay by the hospital bed, his father's hand resting on his wrist like a withered twig.

"The Shadow Position... shouldn't be designated by the Archbishop." The dying Third Kazekage spoke with barely a whisper, his fingertips tracing the calluses on his palms. "The true legacy... lies in the sand, in the songs of the shepherds..."

"Father!" Luo Sha suddenly opened his eyes, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

The earthenware bowl crashed to the ground with a "thud," and the spring water seeped into the blue bricks, forming the character "承" (Cheng).

He gazed at the gradually brightening sky outside the window, then suddenly grabbed the blockade order from the desk, and with a flick of his fingertips, the parchment shattered into pieces in his palm.

“Go,” he said to the ANBU ninja outside the door, “write down all the ‘strange phenomena’ reported from various places in coded language.” As the ANBU ninja withdrew, he heard Chiyo’s copper bell ringing softly in the corridor, as if it were laughing.

Even a thousand miles away in the Land of Earth, the smell of dust from the cave still lingered on Onoki's nose.

The old miner's question was like a dull knife, slowly chipping at his eardrums: "Lord Shadow, was the suppression of the 'Memory Miners' Uprising' back then because they dug out the First Generation's manuscript from the rock strata?"

The wind in the training ground whipped up sand and gravel that stung my face.

Onoki gazed at the hunched figure in the crowd—the old miner's headlamp was still tucked into his waistband, and the dents on the lamp casing were exactly the same shape as the rocks he had smashed during the suppression thirty years ago.

"Shadow!" Onimaru, the bodyguard, suddenly trembled.

Onoki turned his head and saw the ninja who had followed him for twenty years kneeling on the ground, his forehead pressed against the gravel: "It was I who burned the manuscript... You said 'the dignity of a Kage is more important than the truth'..."

The air freezes.

Onoki felt a metallic taste in his throat—it was the pain from the old wound inflicted by the rebels' blades years ago.

He stared at Onimaru's trembling back and suddenly remembered the dusty "First Tsuchikage's Notebook" that he had found in the dark room three days ago.

The last page of the journal was torn out, but the remaining words on the edge were still there: "The ley lines remember everything; the heavier the pressure, the deeper the cracks."

“Open the borders.” His voice was like a mountain collapsing. “Allow the ‘True Word Vine’ to grow naturally.” The crowd gasped, and Onimaru looked up abruptly.

Onoki turned and walked into the inner room, whispering to his confidant who followed him, "The shadow can be changed, but the roots underground... cannot be severed." The confidant paused, and finally only replied, "Yes."

In the mountains outside Konoha Village, Aoba's fingernails were almost digging into her palms.

He crouched in the damp cave, the remains of the puppet in front of him glowing eerily—that face, even the wrinkles between its brows, were identical to the portrait hanging in the Hokage's office.

"Chakra sensing array... activate." He bit his fingertip, and a drop of blood dripped onto the array's eye. Suddenly, a red light flashed in the puppet's eye sockets.

"You think... you're the only one searching for the truth?"

A chill ran up my neck.

Aoba turned his head sharply. Three people wearing bird-beak masks stood at the cave entrance. Moonlight leaked in from behind them, casting crow-like shadows on the ground.

The leader raised his hand, and the kunai brushed against Qingye's ear and was pinned to the cave wall: "The Inspector wants him alive."

"Fuck you!" Qingye slammed his fist on the ground, and the earth-遁 (earth-遁 is a type of trap or escaping technique) that had been laid beforehand was activated.

The rocks crashed down with a deafening roar, completely sealing the cave entrance.

He slumped to the ground, and the faint clatter of puppet remains echoed in the darkness.

He reached for the tinderbox at his waist, but his hand stopped—a sliver of green light was slowly appearing in the puppet's eye sockets, like someone blinking in the darkness.

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away on the border of the Land of Fire, Byakuya sat cross-legged among the roots of the Memory Tree.

He suddenly opened his closed eyes and pressed his fingertips to the ground—a familiar wave emanated from the Wood Release: Root system, much like the lingering echo of the First Hokage's chakra.

"Interesting." He chuckled softly, a smile playing on his lips beneath his straw hat. "Looks like it's time to go check out Konoha."

Chapter 955 Who Will Speak for Me?

Moonlight shattered into silver flakes among the tree canopy, and morning dew clung to the edge of Bai Ye's straw hat. He knelt on one knee on the branch of an old pine tree, his right hand resting on a protruding knot on the trunk.

The bronze patterns on the spore wristbands shimmered with a deep blue hue, and tiny chakra particles seeped into the cracks in the bark, carving spiral-shaped dark patterns into the wood fibers—"memory coordinates" that only awakened beings could perceive.

“The First Hokage’s resonance frequency…” A low chuckle escaped his throat as he gently traced the newly engraved mark with his fingertips. “Back then, Lord Hashirama used Wood Release to connect all things, and now it has become a channel for transmitting the truth.” A gust of wind brushed past his ears, bringing with it a faint smell of burning from the direction of Konoha in the east. His pupils contracted slightly—it was the lingering scent of Earth Release after the rock collapse, matching the trap set by Aoba.

He tapped his fingertips three times on the wristband, and as the last spore sank into the heart of the tree, he suddenly stopped.

The shrill cawing of crows echoed from afar, three long and two short cries—the coded communication signal of the Sunagakure ANBU.

Bai Ye turned his head to look south, his eyelashes under his straw hat casting shadows on his face. "Grandma Chiyo is quick." He flipped and jumped down from the tree, the wind he created as he landed carrying away a few withered leaves. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the depths of the dense forest, leaving only the spiral patterns on the tree trunk slowly writhing with the sap.

The darkness inside the cave was even deeper than the night.

Aoba's back was pressed against the damp rock wall, his palms were covered in cold sweat. The rubble that had fallen when he used Earth Release to seal the cave had pierced his knee, causing him to gasp in pain.

But at this moment, all his senses were focused on what was in front of him—in the eye sockets of the puppet's remains, green light moved like a living thing, eventually gathering into two eerie green spots, just like the eyes he had seen in the mirror.

"I live when you tell the truth."

The sound came from all directions, carrying his own timbre, but it was three points lower than usual, as if it were squeezed out of his throat.

Aoba's Adam's apple bobbed as he reached for the tinderbox at his waist. Just as his fingertips touched the oiled paper, the puppet's jaw suddenly made a "click" sound—the sound of a mechanism activating.

A ghostly blue chakra projection appeared on the rock face.

In the scene, a young ninja is pinned to a metal platform, his face wrapped in bandages, revealing only a pair of terrified eyes.

The ninja in the white coat raised a syringe, the liquid inside glowing with the same green light as the puppet's core.

"This is an experiment to extract the consciousness of the third Kazekage." The voice-over was as cold as ice. "When the original consciousness is completely sealed, the puppet will inherit the identity and memories of the Kazekage."

The young ninja's struggles gradually weakened, his pupils lost focus, and the puppet beside him—the one with a face similar to his—slowly raised his hand, his fingertips brushing against his cheek, a stiff smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: "I am the new Kazekage."

“No…” Aoba’s nails dug deeply into his palm. “This is impossible… Lord Rasa clearly…” He choked on his words before he could finish—behind the puppet’s ear in the image, a very thin scar was faintly visible, exactly the same scar he had seen on the portrait of the Fourth Kazekage on Kazekage Rock last month.

Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck and into his collar. He suddenly remembered the rumor he had heard three days ago at the tavern in the Land of Fire: "The old Kazekage's corpse has been in a secret room for ten years, and his fingernails have grown long enough to pierce through the coffin lid." It turned out that it wasn't a rumor; the original body, whose consciousness had been extracted, was still clinging to life.

"So Onimaru will burn the notes, and Lord Onoki will open the borders..." Aoba's voice trembled as he pulled out the blood bag from his pocket—an emergency blood pack given to him by Lady Tsunade before she left, which now became the sharpest pen in the world.

Chapter 956 Body Stealing

He tore off his sleeve, dipped it in blood, and scribbled wildly on the rock wall: "The shadow is not a substitute, it is possession! Consciousness is sealed, the puppet is in power!" The handwriting was crooked and twisted, and the blood droplets on the words "possession" looked like blooming red plum blossoms.

The puppet's remains suddenly emitted a piercing buzzing sound, and green light began to flash.

Aoba gritted his teeth and tore open the puppet's chest cavity. Embedded beneath the metal skeleton was a chip the size of a thumb, its surface covered with incantations.

He quickly inserted the chip into the hollow tube of the hairpin, a keepsake from his mother, carved with the three-tomoe pattern of a leaf. "Even if I die, I want this thing to see the light." He tucked the hairpin back into his hair, his fingertips touching the cold metal, and finally felt a little more confident.

The ancestral home in Sunagakure Village exudes the scent of aged sandalwood.

Chiyo crumpled the secret letter into a ball and threw it into the brazier. The orange flames made the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes flicker.

“Bai Ye is right. Puppet lives on false memories, like weaving a web of lies, and cannot touch the truth.” She took out a celadon bottle from her bosom and poured out a spore the size of a grain of rice, which shimmered with pearly white in the moonlight. “This was extracted from the root system of the Memory Tree and can record the memories of living people.”

The old ninjas, sitting around on the straw mats, held their breath.

The eldest, Grandpa Watanabe, touched the spores, his fingertips trembling slightly: "The First Kazekage used this to record village history, but it was later banned by the History Museum..."

“So we have to bring it back to life.” Chiyo patted Watanabe’s hand. “We’ll establish memory outposts, with the elders patrolling the border with spores, storing the villagers’ oral histories. When the puppets of the History Pavilion come to investigate, we’ll let them taste what it’s like to be shattered by real memories.”

Suddenly, the curtain was lifted by a corner by the wind, and moonlight shone in, illuminating a tall figure standing at the door.

The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, stood with his arms crossed, the wind blade at his waist gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"The Kage's decision requires approval from the Jonin Council." His voice carried its usual authority, but his gaze swept over the celadon bottle in Chiyo's hand. "But... the Root of Sunagakure shouldn't rot in the secrets of the History Bureau." With that, he turned and left, his footsteps fading into the corridor, leaving only the soft rustling of the curtain.

The old ninjas looked at each other, and Watanabe suddenly laughed out loud: "That kid Rasa is just like his father back then, tough on the outside but soft on the inside."

Chiyo shoved the celadon bottle into his hand, her knuckles turning white from the force: "We'll set off tonight, starting from the border between the Land of Wind and the Land of Earth. Remember, we're not rebelling against the Kage, we're helping the Kage see clearly—who the real Sunagakure is."

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the Hidden Cloud Village, thunderstorms raged across the sky.

The Fourth Raikage's hand, gripping the intelligence scroll, was bulging with veins, and the edges of the scroll were charred black by chakra—it was something he had crushed in his rage.

“Shadow Substitution… Possession…” he growled, slamming the scroll onto the table. “Summon all Jonin for an emergency meeting before dawn.” The lightning outside the window made his pupils appear red, like an enraged thunder beast. “I’ll see if those bastards from the Shige family dare to try anything funny on Kumogakure’s territory!” A thunderstorm roared in the dome of Kumogakure, and Bi’s combat boots pounded heavily on the bluestone slabs of the meeting room, causing the Lightning Release scroll hanging on the wall to shed dust.

Twenty Jonin sat in a fan shape, their usual clamor suffocated by the tattered pieces of intelligence he was clutching—on the half-page of charred paper, the four words "Shadow Substitution Possession" were still hissing and sparking.