Konoha: Superman template, the spoiled brat becomes strong.

Bai Ye stood on a sand dune twenty miles away, watching the blue light soar into the sky—it was the awakened true fire, spreading along the earth's veins to the five kingdoms. Wherever it passed, the Leaf Village's Memory Tree sprouted new buds, ancient songs rolled through the Cloud Village's thunderstorms, and faded wooden plaques floated on the surface of the Mist Village's sea, each plaque engraved with a forgotten name.

He took out the Wood Release Seed from his palm.

The blue veins on the seed's surface resonated with the curse mark at the corner of its eye, a connection between the primordial bloodline and the spark. "The spark doesn't recognize a master, it only recognizes pain." He released his grip, and the seed was swept westward by the wind, disappearing into the desolate Gobi Desert.

There lies an ancient city buried by sandstorms, its walls adorned with totems older than green leaves, waiting to be awakened.

Deep in the basement of the Fire City's Shigeru, Fujiwara Shizuka suddenly opened her eyes.

Blood beads seeped from the blood-ink mark on her forehead, and the blood-written words on the wall had been updated at some point: "The next one is the one you'll replace." On the damp stone wall, watermarks were slowly outlining a name, as if someone had dipped their fingertips in her blood and carved it into the stone stroke by stroke.

Meanwhile, in the Gobi Desert to the west, the seed of Wood Release was cracking open.

A sliver of green light seeped from the crack in the Wood Release seed, like an invisible thread, leading Byakuya deeper into the Gobi Desert.

The sand made the soles of his boots hot. He licked his chapped lips and unconsciously rubbed the red-gold bell on his throat with his fingertips. When the mine collapsed earlier, the bell had hit his collarbone and made it hurt. Now it had become the only clear anchor point of pain.

"We've arrived." He suddenly stopped.

The sand beneath my feet had an unnatural bluish-gray hue. Sand grains whipped up by the wind drew tiny arcs in the air, eventually coalescing into half a broken totem three inches from the ground.

Chapter 1003 Qingye Shou

That was an experimental mark drawn by the first Hashirama Senju in his "Forbidden Techniques Manual," with serpentine patterns wrapped around three leaf petals, vibrating in sync with the curse mark at the corner of his eye.

Bai Ye knelt on one knee, his fingertips digging into the sand.

The rough sand cut his palm, and as the blood fell, a hollow echo resounded from the ground.

He drew his short sword and began to dig. Beneath the sand, mottled stone bricks were revealed, each brick engraved with a distorted human face—the painful marks left on the test subjects when they were injected with Wood Release chakra.

When the third layer of stone bricks was dug up, the broken stele finally revealed its true appearance.

The stele is covered with tadpole-like characters. The two characters "Qingye" at the bottom were scraped by a sharp blade, but bloodstains still seeped into the stone patterns, like two clusters of wildfire that cannot be extinguished.

"So this is where it was." Bai Ye chuckled softly, pressing the blade against the crack in the broken monument.

The moment the stone was moved, the smell of decaying soil mixed with pine resin wafted out.

A withered body was curled up in the stone coffin, the skin clinging to the bone fragments, with charred burn marks on the back of the neck—a typical feature of the "forced fusion of the Wood Release core leading to carbonization of the meridians" recorded in the first generation's experimental records.

The most striking feature was the half of a Wood Release core embedded in the chest, its eerie green light shining through the dry skin and casting spiderweb-like cracks on the inner wall of the stone sarcophagus.

Bai Ye bit her fingertip, and a drop of blood dripped onto the core gap.

"laugh--"

The charred body suddenly convulsed, and the knuckles cracked.

His previously closed eye sockets cracked open, revealing cloudy white pupils: "...I've waited ninety-eight years..." His voice was like sandpaper rubbing against a stone, "Do you still remember 'Aoba'?"

Bai Ye's pupils contracted slightly.

He had seen the first generation's experimental log and knew that the "Green Leaf Spark" project had three batches of experimental subjects. The first two batches all died during the fusion process, and the third batch was barely able to continue by using the shadow replacement technology.

But the logs didn't mention that some test subjects lived for nearly a hundred years without being impersonated.

“You are Aoba Mori.” He blurted out.

A smile tugged at his dry lips: "Finally, someone... is willing to call me by my real name."

A sandstorm suddenly swept up outside the stone sarcophagus.

When Bai Ye looked up, the totem formed by the sand grains had vanished, leaving only a faint sob in the wind—the mournful cry of the remnant souls of the experimental subjects buried deeper, lamenting the awakening of their kind.

The paper door of the Wind King's office in the Land of Wind was slammed shut with a deafening roar.

Luo Sha clutched the torn half-page of the file, his knuckles turning white.

The reflection in the mirror was cracking. The left half of his face still had his usual cold and hard features, but the right half was gradually becoming transparent, revealing an unfamiliar face underneath: his brow bone was more prominent, and there was a red mole at the corner of his eye. It was the former Kazekage's confidant who had died suddenly three years ago.

"Come in," he said, his voice hoarse.

The paper door was pushed open, and Chiyo's wooden clogs approached with a "clack-clack" sound.

She clutched a roll of yellow silk in her hand, its edges frayed, clearly retrieved from the oldest archive of body doubles.

"Whom am I standing in for?" Luo Sha turned around, and the cracks in his reflection in the mirror covered his entire face.

Chiyo's Adam's apple bobbed.

She had witnessed too many stand-ins break down, but when this face she had known since childhood showed cracks, her heart still sank heavily. "Luo Sha, the real you..." She unfolded the yellow silk, the name at the top circled three times in vermilion, "died from poisoning three years ago."

The person sitting here now is a body double.

Luo Sha suddenly laughed.

He drew a wind-style kunai from his waist and slashed a bloody gash in his palm.

Blood dripped onto the ground, but the liquid, which should have been quickly absorbed by the sand, remained frozen in place, gradually forming pale pink crystal clusters—these were "sand crystals" that could only be nurtured in the true Land of Wind, recognizing only those of the true bloodline of the Wind Shadow.

“Even the earth doesn’t recognize me anymore.” He touched the crack in the mirror with his bloodied fingertips, and the right half of the reflection shattered with a “boom,” revealing the files of body doubles plastered on the wall behind him. “Grandma, tell me… if I die using my real name, does that count as… living for myself?”

Chiyo's eyes suddenly stung.

She thought of the boy named Xiaochuan in the mine, and the puppets who had been turned into stand-ins. Finally, she reached out and pressed down on Luo Sha's hand: "Use the name you chose, and live the life you want to live."

The howling of a sandstorm could be heard outside the window.

Luo Sha looked down at the blood crystal in his palm, then suddenly stuffed the yellow silk into Chiyo's arms: "Burn these files...."

The charcoal braziers in the basement of the Fire City, Shige, were burning brightly.

Kazama Shin poured the last packet of "Awakening Snow" into the stone mortar. As the pestle struck the mortar, he thought of the children in the border villages—those whose parents had been erased by the substitution system, who could finally see the real names of their relatives in the newly written history books.

"Old Tian, ​​the ink is ready." He handed the ground ink to the old man who was bent over his desk.

Tanaka Hisashi's hands were trembling.

He had lived for seventy years, and for fifty years he had copied lies for the historian. Now, holding the real "ink of memory," the tip of the pen felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

As the first stroke landed, the ink blossomed like blood on the paper, and the first line of "The History of Fire: Hidden Scroll" slowly appeared: "List of Shadow Replacements, established by the First Hokage..."

"boom!"

The basement gate was kicked open.

Seven dark figures flashed in, the Konoha Anbu markings on their headbands gleaming coldly in the firelight.

The lead ninja drew a kunai: "Old Man Tian, ​​come with us."

Tanaka Hisashi's gaze swept over the unfinished list on the desk, and he suddenly grabbed the entire stack of papers and threw them into the charcoal brazier.

Flames leaped high, and a hundred phantom figures rose from the ashes—an aged scholar, a young ninja, a swaddled infant—each with its mouth open, chanting in a different voice: "My name is Watanabe Ichiro," "I am Matsumoto Kiyoko," "My childhood name is A-Quan..."

The kunai of the ANBU ninja clattered to the ground.

The leading man suddenly covered his face, tears seeping through his fingers: "I'm representing... Sai's father..." He knelt on the ground, his nails digging into the bricks, "Thirty years... I can finally say that name..."

The other ANBU ninjas gradually released their weapons.

Some people trembled as they removed their headbands, while others hugged their companions and wept bitterly. The firelight illuminated the tear tracks on their faces, like countless seals being torn open.

As the sandstorm in the Gobi Desert subsided, Bai Ye was squatting in front of the stone coffin.

Aoba no Mori's withered body was visibly recovering its vitality, with blue patterns moving under his skin, a sign of the revival of Wood Release chakra.

He stared at the curse mark at the corner of Bai Ye's eye, his hoarse voice gaining a touch of warmth: "Back then, the First Generation Lord..."

"Wait." Bai Ye pressed down on his wrist.

A chakra fluctuation came from the direction of the Land of Wind in the distance; it was Rasa's Wind Release chakra, carrying a resolute sense of shattering.

Chapter 1004 Sending Him on His Final Journey

He recalled the wailing in the Fire City's underground vault, and the boy named Xiaochuan in the mine. The crimson-gold bell in his throat suddenly burned. "Tell me first, what secret does the 'Azure Leaf Fire Seed' hold?"

Aoba Mori turned his white eyes toward him, and black blood seeped from the corner of his split mouth—poison left over from an experiment a hundred years ago.

He raised his hand, his withered fingertips touching Bai Ye's heart: "The First Generation wanted... to use the fire..."

The sandstorm swept in again.

Bai Ye's words were torn apart by the wind, and only the last few words could be heard: "...cultivate a true successor." Amidst the crisp sound of sand hitting the edge of the stone coffin, Qing Ye's white eyes suddenly turned eerie green.

His Adam's apple, which should have been dry, bobbed up and down. Black blood trickled down his cracked lips and into his collar, only to be completely absorbed the moment it touched the core of his Wood Release technique. "The First Hokage... he didn't want to use a method that would sever ties like Shadow Manipulation." His knuckles tapped the eerie green spot on his chest. "What he wanted was the 'Memory Symbiosis'—to bury the spark within a living person, allowing memories, chakra, and even the soul to intertwine and grow together like vines."

Bai Ye's breath caught in her throat.

The crimson bell in his throat suddenly hummed, resonating with the wood-elemental core inside the stone sarcophagus.

Three years ago, the fragments of a scroll I saw at the Thousand Hands Ruins suddenly came to mind: "Symbiosis is not substitution, but the intertwining of roots." It turns out that it wasn't the first generation's wild idea, but a real experimental direction.

“But Wood Release is too powerful.” Aoba’s nails dug deep into the inner wall of the stone sarcophagus, and fragments of stone mixed with his black blood fell down. “The first two batches of test subjects either had their meridians burst by Wood Release, or had their minds devoured by the memories of the previous generation.”

I was the last of the third batch. During the fusion, the Wood Release core suddenly went berserk, burning through the memory point on the back of my neck—they said I was crippled, so they sealed me under this Gobi Desert and even scraped off my name. His withered hand suddenly gripped Bai Ye's wrist with astonishing strength, "But the core recognizes you!"

It just drank your blood, and now it's throbbing like a living thing inside me—you are the 'root' the First Generation sought!

A piercing shriek came from afar, like the sharp whistling of wind blades tearing through the air.

Byakuya's pupils contracted slightly—it was the unique chakra fluctuation of the Land of Wind, carrying a resolute sense of shattering.

He abruptly turned his head to look east, and in the sandstorm, he seemed to see the figure of Rasa: "Rasa..."

“Let’s go see him off on his final journey.” Aoba Mori suddenly smiled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ve waited ninety-eight years just to put these words into the ears of the person who should hear them.”

After you leave, use Wood Release to seal the stone coffin—my crippled body can no longer be used as experimental material.

Bai Ye's fingers paused on the edge of the stone coffin.

He drew the short sword from his waist, and as the tip pressed against the crevice of the stone coffin, he suddenly felt a warm liquid drip onto the back of his hand—it was Aoba no Mori's tear, carrying the scent of decaying pine resin. "Remember the name 'Aoba no Mori' for me," the old man's voice was as soft as sand. "To be remembered is to have truly lived."

The sand at the altar of the Land of Wind is burning.

Luo Sha stood at the very top of the seven-tiered altar, his bare feet treading on the scorching hot rocks.

He clutched the yellow silk scroll that Chiyo had shoved into his hands; the edges of the shadow puppet file were already licked and curled by the flames. "Grandma, I've made my choice," he roared into the wind, then tossed the scroll into the brazier in the center of the altar.

As the pages fluttered, Chiyo could see clearly from below the stage—a semi-transparent phantom appeared on each page of the burned file.

Those were the original bodies erased by the shadow-swapping system, and they were now reaching out their hands, drifting towards Luo Sha's direction.

Rasa drew a Wind Release kunai from his waist.

The wind blade condensed at the tip of the kunai sliced ​​through the palm, and the blood dripped down not in a straight line, but against gravity, drifting towards the stone tablet at the edge of the altar.

He raised his blood-stained hand, and wind-style chakra wrapped around the blood droplets danced across the surface of the monument: "Rasa, born of the wind, died of the wind, not a substitute." As the last word fell, the right half of his body suddenly became completely transparent, revealing the face with a red mole below—that was the real original body, now looking at the name he had carved with his own hands with the exact same eyes as Rasa.

"The duty of the Kazekage is to protect the grains of sand in the Land of Wind." Rasa's voice was a mixture of two overlapping tones, one young and cold, the other hoarse and weathered. "But true protection should begin with remembering every name." He opened his arms, and wind chakra poured out from his seven orifices as if it were a tangible substance, enveloping the entire altar in a giant whirlwind.

Chiyo stumbled and fell to the edge of the altar.

She saw Luo Sha's body disintegrating in the whirlwind, each piece of flesh wrapped in wind blades, yet not a single drop of blood fell to the ground—the blood droplets had all melted into the carvings on the stone tablet.

When the whirlwind completely dissipated, only a charred skeleton remained in the center of the altar, while the two characters "Luo Sha" on the stone tablet gleamed with a faint golden light.

Suddenly, a warm wind, unlike anything seen before, swept across the desert.

Chiyo squinted and saw the grains of sand gathering in front of the monument to form the shape of a green vine.

The vines were covered with bean-sized flower buds, and each leaf was engraved with tiny names—the original bodies from the burned files of the body doubles.

“The wind has finally revealed its true form.” She knelt on the sand, her wrinkled hands stroking the surface of the monument. “This time, there won’t be any more mistakes.”

The candles at Guiyuan Shrine went out at midnight.

Byakuya placed Aoba no Mori's body under the shrine and wove a simple coffin using wood-style vines.

The old man's last words still echoed in his ears: "The flame is not inherited, but awakened... The next one should be yourself." He took out the crimson gold bell from his pocket. There was an engraving on the inside of the bell, which looked like some kind of ancient rune.

"Ding--"

The bell suddenly fell to the ground.

Bai Ye bent down to pick it up, but when he looked up, he caught a glimpse of the bronze mirror on the shrine.

The face reflected in the mirror was not the one he was familiar with: the curse mark at the corner of his eye was darker, his brow bone was more prominent than he remembered, and there was a red mole under his left eye—this face bore a striking resemblance to the portrait of Fujiwara Shuichi that he had seen in the History Museum of the Land of Fire.

He suddenly stood up, and the bronze mirror crashed to the ground.

Through the cracks, he saw his fingertips oozing a bluish-green chakra, which seeped into the ground through the fissures.

A soft rustling sound came from beneath the shrine's floor tiles, like countless vines stretching out in the soil.