As the puff of smoke cleared, Shisui's Shadow Clone vanished from the clearing.
Since he had chosen to step out of his "lay-flat" comfort zone, his strategy of leaking information and sowing discord had to accelerate.
In the basent, Shisui absorbed the mories returned by the clone and let out a wry, self-deprecating laugh.
Though these actions were driven by his own logic, he realized he could be quite fickle. There were steadier, more gradual paths to security, but certain sights—like the tragedy unfolding in the clearing—left a sour taste in his mouth that he couldn't simply ignore.
"In the end, I'm still too weak," he muttered. "Not strong enough to act on a whim without hesitation, so I have to resort to these sches."
Stripped of his insect colony, Shisui knew he was rely a high-level Jonin with slightly above-average Taijutsu.
Compared to a standard Konoha Jonin, he lacked versatility; he had no natural affinity for the five elental natures. Even his "Earth Style" was a chanical feat perford by his Earth-Construction Insects.
He occasionally wondered if his unique "cheat" intentionally restricted him to this singular path. But then, he dismissed the thought.
Elental Ninjutsu had a ceiling; the late-stage powerhouses of this world relied on Sage Transformation or transcendent physical prowess.
Specializing in his insects was simply a way to maintain absolute focus.
Shisui sat at his stone table, his gaze falling on the glowing cultivation vessel in his palm. He had never used it in direct combat, nor had he used it to mass-produce insects before, as the cost was exorbitant.
But to solve the village's infestation of spies in one night, his current swarms weren't enough.
"Fine. It's only three hundred years' worth of Primordial Energy. I can earn it back later by 'recycling' the dregs of this world."
While three centuries of energy wasn't enough to evolve a bug that would elevate his personal power level, it was more than enough to create functional swarms with terrifying utility.
He reached into his ntal vault and selected the Foul-Scent Bug.
He only possessed about a hundred of them; they were notoriously difficult to breed, with a pair only producing one or two eggs a month.
But as the 300 years of Primordial Energy drained away, over three thousand Foul-Scent Bugs shimred into existence within the vessel.
"Go," he whispered, walking into the moonlit courtyard. "Let's make tonight a lively one."
Small carrier insects took flight, transporting the Foul-Scent Bugs to every strategic corner of the village.
Under the brilliant starlight, outside the village hidden behind the waterfall, Shibuki—the young leader—and several elders were busy adjusting seal formulas.
Following an ergency eting, the leadership had reached a desperate conclusion: Takigakure would initiate a total lockdown.
Once the barrier was active, civilians would be trapped, and even a Genin would find it impossible to slip through unnoticed.
Only a Chunin or higher could force a breach, but doing so would trigger an imdiate alarm, drawing the village's defenders like moths to a fla.
It was a move of pure survival.
Monts ago, the elders had received an anonymous list containing over ninety nas. Every person on that list was a confird spy or a compromised asset.
Ninety people—nearly one-seventh of the village's total shinobi force. The realization that every seventh ninja was a traitor was enough to paralyze any hidden village.
"Shibuki-sama, my section of the barrier is complete." "Ready on my end as well."
"Good," Shibuki said, his face grim. "By now, you've all seen the report from the 'mysterious benefactor.' Whether his words are true or not, we cannot take the risk.
Everyone, follow to the Toko Shrine. We must guard the Tailed Beast with our lives!"
Their goal was simple: prevent the theft of the Seven-Tails, or, failing that, ensure the beast was destroyed rather than captured.
To Takigakure, Choi was not a weapon; it was a ticking ti bomb. Ever since the death of the first Jinchuriki and the defection of Kakuzu—who had stolen the Earth Grudge Fear—the village had lacked anyone strong enough to host the beast.
They had been forced to seal it away in a vessel, praying the world would forget it existed.
As the barrier shimred into life, spies across the village received their own anonymous ssage:
[The seal for the Seven-Tails is located in the ritual altar 100 ters beneath the Toko Shrine. Guard rotation attached.]
The intelligence was so precise that even those who hadn't planned on a heist felt compelled to act.
"My lord, could this be a Takigakure trap?" one masked ninja whispered in the shadows.
"Who in this village has the capability to deliver intel this cleanly to all of us simultaneously?" his superior countered.
The spies shook their heads. They knew Takigakure's "Anbu" was a poor imitation of the Great Nations' organizations. If another village's spy had done this, why would they share the prize?
They couldn't solve the riddle, but the opportunity was too great to ignore. Secret etings were held in alleyways, under floorboards, and in the canopy of trees.
They didn't realize that in the cracks of the walls, on the undersides of leaves, and deep within the wooden pillars, Shisui's insects were watching.
He was no longer just a resident of the village. He was the village's nervous system, and tonight, he was going to perform surgery.
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