Wen Lan glanced at the green flak jacket in his hands and shook it open lightly.
There was still a faint smell of mothballs on it.
Who knew which old wardrobe it had been dug out of.
Looking at the vest that was so large it nearly reached his knees, Wen Lan stared at Orochimaru with a deadpan expression.
"Orochimaru-sama… do you think I can actually wear this?"
Orochimaru's lips curved upward, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.
"There's no helping it. A five-year-old jōnin is simply too rare."
Wen Lan's mouth twitched slightly.
What about Kakashi next door, the twelve-year-old jōnin?
Still, he folded the vest up and put it away.
Pakura looked at the forehead protector in her hands. After hesitating briefly, she removed the Sand Village missing-nin headband, tied it around her arm, and placed the Konoha forehead protector on her brow.
Wen Lan paused, then said,
"You don't have to keep wearing the missing-nin headband."
"I want to remember this humiliation," Pakura replied, her expression stiff.
Wen Lan opened his mouth, then closed it again, choosing not to say anything further.
At this moment, Fugaku spoke up.
"Wen Lan, the Mist front is unstable. Kirigakure has clearly chosen a war of attrition. They want to drag things out until Konoha can no longer fight both the Mist and Stone simultaneously.
Do you have any ideas?"
Wen Lan thought for a moment, then spoke slowly:
"If they want to fight a war of attrition, then we'll let them taste the consequences."
A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
"I suggest dispatching elite squads to infiltrate the Mist's logistics lines."
"You want to cut off Kirigakure's supply routes?" Orochimaru frowned slightly.
"That's impossible. Just sailing at sea would expose you immediately. There's no way to infiltrate the Land of Water."
Wen Lan glanced at the map pinned to the tent wall.
"The Mist has already set up camps along the Fire Country coastline, hasn't it?"
Since Fire Country's border only extended to the sea, Kirigakure—as the invading force—had to establish camps along the coast. Stationing forces offshore or back in the Land of Water would be meaningless.
"Yes," Fugaku replied.
A sinister smile appeared on Wen Lan's face.
"Then here's the plan. Gather all the waste from our troops—human waste. Heat it thoroughly over fire."
"I call this stuff Golden Juice."
"After boiling it, mix it with certain herbs and launch it directly into the Mist camps."
He continued calmly, as if discussing something trivial:
"High-temperature-treated filth breeds massive amounts of bacteria. Combined with specific herbs, it can trigger epidemics."
"If Golden Juice splashes onto a person, the boiling liquid will cause severe burns, and the bacteria in the waste will easily lead to fatal infections."
"We can also collect Mist corpses from recent battles, stuff them with herbs to form plague sources, and bury them near the Mist camps—letting wind or water spread the disease."
"That way, we can wipe them out without even drawing our blades."
Orochimaru, Fugaku, and Pakura all stared at Wen Lan in shock.
How could such a vicious plan come out of a child's mouth?
Medical ninja were common in Konoha, but that didn't mean other villages had them in abundance.
Aside from Sunagakure—where poison use had fostered some medical expertise—the other major villages lacked Konoha's systematic medical training.
Most of them could only use chakra to stop bleeding quickly; they couldn't properly heal wounds.
Wen Lan's plan struck directly at the enemy's weakest point—their lack of medical resources and poor sanitation.
Fugaku coughed twice.
"This plan harms heaven's harmony. It would be better not to do it."
"Tch." Wen Lan waved it off casually.
"As long as it doesn't harm Wenhe, it's fine."
Seeing everyone's confusion, he realized they didn't understand the joke in this world and coughed lightly.
"My surname is Uchiha, my given name is Wen Lan, my courtesy name is Wenhe."
Orochimaru let out a sinister chuckle.
"I always thought I was ruthless enough. I never expected Mr. Wen Lan to surpass even me."
Wen Lan stared at him blankly.
If you don't know how to compliment people, you really don't have to.
Ignoring Orochimaru's teasing, Wen Lan turned to Fugaku seriously.
"This is just a tactic. It has nothing to do with harming heaven's harmony."
"If we don't find a way to weaken the Mist, are we supposed to rely on frontal assaults?"
He paused, his tone sharpening.
"They outnumber us. A direct clash will only lead to greater casualties."
Fugaku fell silent.
He couldn't refute that.
"I'll build a device," Wen Lan added, "something that lets us launch it from a safe distance."
"Very well," Orochimaru said softly.
"I'll be waiting for Mr. Wen Lan's good news."
After leaving the main tent, Wen Lan arranged a separate tent for Pakura to rest in.
Ever since he had killed five members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, his status within the Uchiha had skyrocketed.
In the past, people saw him merely as the Third Elder's son—a child.
Now, they respected him from the bottom of their hearts.
Wen Lan quickly ordered people to gather timber.
He was going to build a catapult.
Yes—because of ninjutsu, this world had never developed siege weapons like catapults.
Squatting on the ground, Wen Lan sketched the structure of a catapult, calculating the materials and manpower needed.
Once the wood arrived, he immediately began construction.
There was nothing particularly difficult about it. With a basic framework and some tinkering, it came together quickly.
Soon, a complete catapult stood before them.
Wen Lan tugged on the ropes, tested its stability, and nodded in satisfaction.
Next came the "ammunition."
He ordered people to boil Golden Juice far away from the camp.
Meanwhile, he headed to the corpse tent.
Inside lay rows upon rows of Kirigakure bodies.
These corpses were no small matter.
After the war, the defeated side would have to pay to retrieve their "heroes'" bodies, ensuring they didn't rot in foreign soil.
For the victorious side, this was a substantial source of income.
Wen Lan summoned several medical ninja. To them, creating plague agents was actually quite straightforward.
He carefully instructed them to ensure strict safety measures so the epidemic would never spread to their own camp.
The medical ninja nodded repeatedly. Though uneasy about such methods, war was merciless—victory came first.
Wen Lan left the corpse tent with a slight frown.
He knew such tactics were effective—but they would also provoke desperate retaliation from the enemy.
Three nights later.
A five-man squad quietly approached the outskirts of the Mist encampment.
Three ninja swiftly assembled the catapult.
But when they saw the barrels of Golden Juice, still steaming and reeking unbearably, even the hardened ninja carrying them couldn't help but vomit.
The stench was suffocating.
Still, knowing the importance of the mission, they forced themselves to endure it, pouring the boiling filth into specially prepared containers.
At the signal, the ropes were released.
One barrel after another arced through the night sky—
Trailing a nauseating stench—
And crashed straight into the Kirigakure camp.
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