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After paying more than thirty percent extra chakra and watching several shinobi collapse from backlash, vomiting blood, the world-destroying wave of earth and stone finally took shape again.
RUMBLE—!
The earth itself wailed.
The terrifying flood of mud and rock crashed down with unstoppable force.
However, the tiny disturbance Taiichi had caused created massive consequences.
The jutsu's formation was half a beat slower. What should have been a thick, lava-like, perfectly cohesive wave of earth and stone now showed clear signs of coming apart.
It was no longer an unbreakable whole. The edges had already begun breaking down into smaller streams of rubble.
"ROAR!"
The Third Raikage let out a heaven-shaking bellow. He had keenly sensed that single flaw.
The strongest Hell Stab — One-Finger Thrust, fueled by his rage, no longer tried to clash head-on with the core of the wave. Instead, it struck at the loosest, weakest flank.
Puchi— BOOM!
The blinding lightning did not get swallowed by the thick mud wave as expected. Instead, it tore through the raging flood of earth and stone like ripping cloth, carving out a massive opening.
The Raikage burst through without the slightest hesitation. Using the momentum of his charge, he plunged straight into Iwa's ranks.
A storm of severed limbs and broken bodies flew through the air. Every Iwa shinobi in his path was brutally smashed apart by the Raikage's charge.
"Damn it! What happened?! The jutsu's power is wrong!"
Ōnoki on the cliff saw everything clearly. Veins bulged on his forehead from rage.
He could clearly feel that the combined jutsu's power had dropped by at least thirty percent.
Otherwise, even the Raikage could never have torn through it so easily.
His sharp gaze swept across the chaotic forces below but found no trace of enemy interference.
"Was it really just bad luck? After practicing so many times, it fails at the critical moment?"
Furious, Ōnoki formed seals with both hands.
Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World!
A lethal white cube instantly formed and shot toward the Raikage, who had just broken free from the Iwa ranks.
But the Raikage was no fool. He knew the power of Dust Release. Lightning flashed around his body as he charged straight back into the Iwa shinobi.
It was a helpless choice to avoid Dust Release—using Iwa shinobi as human shields, gambling that Ōnoki wouldn't fire it in front of everyone.
This was exactly what Ōnoki had hoped for. He could use ordinary Iwa shinobi's lives to steadily drain the Raikage's stamina.
After all, when it came to the number of ordinary chūnin and genin, Iwa had the most—and could mass-produce them.
Three days and three nights.
The Iwa shinobi and the Raikage fought a brutal, nonstop battle inside the canyon for three days and three nights.
Because of Taiichi's constant interference, Iwa's combined jutsu never fully succeeded. Ōnoki had already replaced four different commanders for the combined jutsu unit out of sheer frustration.
Still, it was useless. Failure remained failure. Every time the critical moment arrived, that same trace of chaos appeared, preventing the combined jutsu from being perfect.
That small gap meant nothing against ordinary shinobi. But against a monster like the Raikage, even the tiniest flaw was fatal.
As a result, Iwa was forced to suffer far greater casualties just to pin him down and wear him out.
The Raikage fought like an endless war machine, repeatedly charging through waves of Earth Release and Dust Release.
Every Hell Stab claimed lives. Every time he was hit, his armor groaned under the strain.
Blood and sweat soaked his beard and hair. His muscles tore from overexertion. His bones cracked under heavy blows. Yet he still stood.
Only when the last drop of chakra was gone and the last shred of stamina left his body did he finally collapse with endless unwillingness and pride.
The dust in the canyon finally settled. The air was thick with the stench of blood and scorched flesh.
Iwa shinobi sat collapsed on the ground. There was no joy of victory on their faces—only the blank look of survivors and bottomless exhaustion.
Corpses piled like mountains. Some belonged to Kumo, but far more belonged to Iwa.
Ōnoki floated down in front of the Third Raikage's body and looked at this worthy opponent with complicated eyes.
The strategic goal of killing the Raikage had been achieved. Kumo's invasion had been completely crushed.
Yet when he looked at the countless Iwa corpses scattered inside and outside the canyon, his heart bled.
Especially when he thought about the combined jutsu whose power had mysteriously weakened, and the abnormal escape route taken by the Kumo elites according to the pursuit reports, a strong sense of unease and suspicion lingered in his mind.
The next day.
Iwa's forward command post was filled with the atmosphere of post-victory joy.
Huangtu held the newly completed casualty report and battle summary. Exhaustion was written all over his face.
"—Confirmed Kumo elite survivors: less than twenty percent. Third Raikage A — confirmed dead from exhaustion."
These were all good news. Especially the losses inflicted on Kumo's elites, which far exceeded what anyone in the tent had expected. The results were brilliant.
The people inside the tent were overjoyed, as if Iwa could now suppress Konoha and dominate the ninja world from this day forward.
But Huangtu's next words shattered their illusions.
"Casualties — more than twice the original plan!"
"What?!"
The tent erupted in shock.
The elders' faces turned ashen.
"How is this possible?!"
"We clearly held the absolute advantage."
"And that combined jutsu! What the hell happened back then?!"
They were looking for someone to blame now that the losses were so heavy.
Ōnoki sat in the main seat, listening to the report. His old back ached. He raised a hand to silence the discussion.
"The reason is unclear. Perhaps the Raikage was simply too strong. Perhaps the troops were too exhausted after days of fighting and made coordination mistakes. This is not the time to investigate that."
He forcefully suppressed the doubt and anger in his heart. Compared to the massive losses, post-war reconstruction and deterrence were far more important.
Just then, noise erupted outside the tent.
An extremely tall, broad figure radiating thick killing intent ignored the guards and violently ripped open the tent flap as he stormed inside.
It was Taiichi, under the alias "Ryūnosuke."
Bloodstained bandages wrapped his body. Dried blood scabs still clung to his heavily muscled arms. His eyes were vicious, like a demon that had just crawled out of hell.
In his hand he carried a huge, heavy cloth sack. It was bulging and made a harsh metallic scraping sound as he moved.
Thud!
The sack slammed down in the center of the tent. The opening loosened.
Clatter.
Inside were densely packed Kumo shinobi forehead protectors piled together.
Many of them carried jōnin and special jōnin markings.
The sheer number was shocking.
A thick stench of blood instantly filled the tent.
"Ryūnosuke! What do you think you're doing?!"
Huangtu frowned and shouted, recognizing the powerful but unruly bounty hunter.
"Doing what?"
Taiichi grinned savagely, his voice like sandpaper.
"Coming to collect my money, of course! According to the rules—one hundred thousand ryō per genin forehead protector, five hundred thousand for chūnin, one million for jōnin—look, they're all here!
I worked my ass off cutting off these heads. Your Iwa logistics people don't want to pay up? That's not very nice!"
He pointed at the pile of forehead protectors, his gaze sweeping across the grim-faced Iwa leaders inside the tent.
That mountain of protectors silently testified to his terrifying killing efficiency in this war.
The tent fell into dead silence.
Looking at the pile that represented at least a hundred Kumo lives, then at Ryūnosuke's terrifying aura and the wounds he was deliberately showing off, several Iwa elders' eyes flashed with greed and killing intent.
The bounty amount was simply too huge.
"Bounty? Hmph!"
One hawkish elder couldn't hold back a cold snort.
"Who knows if you picked these up off the battlefield? Or—maybe you killed our own people and faked them?"
The moment those words left his mouth, the atmosphere dropped to freezing point.
Several Iwa jōnin quietly placed their hands on their weapons.
Taiichi's eyes flashed with violent light. A tangible wave of savage killing intent instantly enveloped the entire tent.
The air itself seemed to freeze.
He clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked like popping beans, as if he was about to explode into violence at any second.
"Enough!"
Just as the tension reached its peak, Ōnoki's aged voice rang out.
He slowly stood up. His gaze was sharp as he swept across everyone present before finally settling on the glaring pile of forehead protectors and Ryūnosuke.
"Iwa's promises weigh heavier than a thousand mountains."
Ōnoki spoke word by word, his voice clear and carrying to every ear.
"Ryūnosuke's performance on the battlefield was witnessed by all! These forehead protectors are proof of his achievements! He earned them with his life!"
He took a deep breath and made his decision, voice firm and decisive.
"Not to mention a hundred million ryō—even if we have to sell everything we own, we will pay him in full! This is Iwa's credibility!"
His gaze swept over the unwilling elders and jōnin, carrying deeper meaning.
"In this battle, we lost a great number of shinobi—including many hired partners. If we cheat Ryūnosuke out of his bounty today and ruin our reputation, who in the ninja world will ever accept Iwa's missions again? Who will ever bleed for us again?"
"We need an example! An example that tells the entire ninja world—follow Iwa and there is meat to eat!
Even among cannon fodder, those who perform the best can still receive rewards that make everyone envious!
Only then will we never lack warriors willing to throw themselves into battle the next time we recruit!"
Ōnoki's words were cold and realistic. He was pointing out Ryūnosuke's enormous propaganda value.
Once he spoke, the elders who still wanted to argue fell silent.
They understood. The Tsuchikage's decision was correct.
Reputation and an example were more important to Iwa, whose war potential had been greatly damaged, than the money right in front of them.
"Huangtu!"
Ōnoki looked at his son.
"Calculate the bounty immediately. Pay it in full, right now, to Ryūnosuke!"
Huangtu quickly responded. "Yes, Tsuchikage-sama!"
Taiichi's vicious expression eased slightly, but his eyes remained sharp as blades as he stared at Huangtu.
"Move fast. I don't like waiting."
Inside, he sneered. Ōnoki's calculations were as sharp as he had expected.
This massive bounty of over a hundred million ryō wasn't just payment for his "hard work." It was also the perfect cover and war trophy for all the chaos he had stirred up on the battlefield.
Later, carrying the heavy money pouch over his shoulder, Taiichi walked out of the tent under the fearful and jealous gazes of countless Iwa shinobi.
He left behind a field of bloody glory and an indescribable bitterness in Iwa's heart.
Of the over one hundred bounty hunters who had entered the war, only twelve walked out of that blood-soaked canyon alive.
And Ryūnosuke was undoubtedly the most dazzling—and the one that hurt Iwa's wallet the most.
Behind this tragic victory, Iwa had paid a far higher price than expected.
Taiichi, the shadow that had wandered through the darkness and personally created even more casualties, quietly melted back into the darkness of the ninja world carrying his enormous bounty.
News of the Third Raikage's death spread across the ninja world at the fastest possible speed.
That speed naturally came from Iwa pushing the story hard.
They couldn't wait for everyone in the ninja world to know, so they could show off Iwa's great military achievement.
And Iwa's goal was achieved.
The Third Raikage's death was like a bomb that once again threw the ninja world—already starting to calm down—into chaos.
Northern front.
Orochimaru naturally wouldn't let such a good opportunity slip by. Without even waiting for orders from the village, he intensified the attacks on Kumo.
This made things difficult for the man facing him—A, the commander responsible for fighting Konoha.
When he heard that the front line in the Land of Earth had been defeated and that his father had fought for three days and three nights to cover the retreat of Kumo's elites before dying of exhaustion, the shock was immense.
The Third Raikage—his father—that towering, unshakable man had actually died because of Iwa's schemes and traps.
They hadn't even managed to recover his body. It was a disgrace to all of Kumo.
But just as he wanted to return to the village and organize forces to avenge his father, that damned Orochimaru from Konoha had brought his troops straight to their doorstep.
On the battlefield.
A's lightning-wreathed fist forced Orochimaru back. Just as he was about to press the attack, his foot suddenly sank. His entire body began to sink into the ground.
Earth Release: Swamp of the Underworld.
Orochimaru's Earth Release was extremely well executed. He had silently trapped A with one move.
One of them wanted a quick victory and chased the other relentlessly, lightning flashing around his body as he carved blue arcs across the battlefield.
The other only dodged. Unless absolutely necessary, he refused to fight head-on. He stuck to his opponent like a persistent plaster, refusing to let go.
"Orochimaru, you started this fight. Now you don't even have the courage to face me directly. Is this the face of one of the Three Sannin?"
A was being harassed so badly he couldn't advance or retreat. He couldn't land a hit either. His chakra was on the verge of going out of control along with his emotions.
"What the hell do you want? Give me a straight answer. Does Konoha really want to make a blood feud with Kumo?"
A finally stopped chasing and stood in place, forcing himself to calm his anger.
He could see it clearly now—Orochimaru definitely wanted something. He was just stalling him, waiting to see who would lose patience first.
"Blood feud?"
Orochimaru rose from the ground not far away. His long tongue licked around his face in a circle. The sight made A's brows twitch.
"Aren't we already at a blood feud?"
"Besides, I'm not in any hurry at all. Every day I bring my subordinates to fight a round. Life couldn't be more fulfilling."
Orochimaru's words made A grind his teeth in hatred. How shameless could someone be? And yet he said it with such righteousness.
"Orochimaru, just name your conditions. I don't have time to waste here with you."
"Conditions? What an interesting way to put it. If I remember correctly, it was you people from Kumo who declared war on Konoha first. Now you want to pull out? It's not that simple."
At this moment, Orochimaru was the picture of righteousness, radiating an aura called justice.
The shinobi on both sides saw that their leaders had stopped fighting and tacitly moved away from each other, gathering behind their respective commanders.
This scene had become very common in recent days. Everyone was used to it.
A knew exactly what Orochimaru wanted—to force Kumo to admit defeat. Otherwise, he would keep harassing him and prevent him from doing anything else.
Right now, Kumo wasn't just facing Iwa's counterattack. Inside the village itself, the sudden death of the Third Raikage had created a power vacuum and thrown everything into chaos.
At a time like this, as the Raikage's successor, instead of returning to take charge of the situation, he was stuck here having a meaningless entanglement with Konoha. It was a major loss of face.
But what could he do? He wasn't the Raikage yet. Ending the war wasn't something he could decide unilaterally.
Just as A thought today would end the same way as usual, a messenger ninja came rushing from the rear, using repeated Body Flicker to race toward the front lines.