Chapter 128: The Counterattack

“Bastard... brute... pervert... get away from me...”

Ye Cang had never imagined that something like this could happen to her. She kept pulling shuriken from her ninja pouch and hurling them at Whitewood, but her wrists had no strength left, and every one of them fell limply into the sand.

Whitewood continued walking toward her, one slow step at a time.

“I warn you... If you come any closer, I will kill you...” Ye Cang struggled to form hand seals. A tiny flame sprang from her fingertips, only to be extinguished by the wind. With no other choice, she turned and began crawling away.

“Do not run, Ye Cang... Trust me... Long live the Sand Village...”

Whitewood himself had little strength left. He threw himself forward, seized Ye Cang by the ankle, and began crawling slowly upward along her calf.

“Please do not do this, Prophet. If you have any strength left, it would be more proper to save it for dealing with the enemy...” Maki tried to stand and stop him, but his body would not cooperate. Even his hands were trembling.

“Bastard... I will definitely kill you... Aaaaaah! Why does it feel as if there are needles stabbing me down there...?”

Ye Cang kicked feebly at Whitewood, but she still could not withstand his strength. Little by little, she was forced down beneath him.

(Do not misunderstand. It is the effect of the Reflective Armor.)

A bottle of Life Potion was carefully poured into Ye Cang's mouth.

The same scene unfolded again. Ye Cang's eyes flew wide open as she clung tightly to Whitewood, desperately swallowing every drop in the bottle, as though she wished she could chew the bottle itself to pieces.

“At a time like this... a man should not take advantage of someone in... distress...” Maki continued trying to dissuade them weakly. Then he suddenly saw the two of them embrace, and his eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

“Shh... Listen to me. We have to find a way to move. We will never reach Loulan. They will not let us live long enough to get there... Ow! Loosen your grip! Do not squeeze so tightly! We will put on a performance later. We will set an ambush here, conserve every ounce of strength, and strike back when they come over... Do not grab me there!”

Whitewood whispered into Ye Cang's ear.

“Is there any more?!”

Ye Cang clawed at Whitewood like a madwoman, all reason gone. Her fingernails dug into his flesh.

“There is not! Really, there is not!”

Whitewood had never imagined that Ye Cang could erupt with such strength.

“There must be! Take it out! Or I will eat you!”

Ye Cang hooked an arm around Whitewood's neck. Her teeth, stained bright red, clamped down hard on the artery in his throat. Hunger had completely annihilated her humanity.

“Please! Be rational! Save what strength you have for killing them when they least expect it!”

Whitewood bit back without the slightest courtesy.

“Please... preserve the last shred of human decency. There is still a feeble old man here...”

Maki shook his head, his voice rasping like two rusted iron plates scraping together.

After rolling around in the sand, the two finally grew exhausted and released each other.

Ye Cang glared viciously at Whitewood. She opened her mouth, but still said nothing resembling thanks.

“That is better... Even if we die...”

Maki was about to say more when Whitewood suddenly began walking toward him step by step. Terror flashed across his face.

“Surely not... The men too?”

“Stay away...!”

“Do not come any closer...!”

...

Far in the distance, the four Root operatives were observing Whitewood's group through telescopes.

“What are they doing?”

“They have been starving for so many days. Do they really still have the strength for that?”

“I think hunger has driven them insane.”

“Sir, will the shrine maiden be eaten? The leader will hold us responsible.”

“A normal person can survive seven days without food or water. They are powerful shinobi, and they have endured an arduous journey. Wait one more day, and we can move.”

Aburame Ryoma was cautious to the point of absurdity.

...

...

After Whitewood fed them a bottle of Life Potion, they stopped moving altogether and collapsed helplessly onto the ground. Thick gauze was spread over their bodies to shield them from the sun and the raging sand, allowing them to conserve every last bit of strength while waiting for Root to appear. Then they would launch their counterattack.

One night passed. The enemy did not appear.

Another day passed. Still, they did not appear.

The group lay motionless upon the sand like true corpses.

A thought began to form in everyone's mind: Could the enemies behind them have been nothing more than a misunderstanding? What if no one had been pursuing them at all?

Whitewood eventually could not stand it anymore and swallowed another bottle of Life Potion. This time, however, he did not give any to the others. If they were going to pretend to be dead, they had to do it thoroughly.

At last, beneath the blazing sun and within the vast, inscrutable storm of sand, a black shadow appeared.

Several hundred meters away, four shinobi in grayish-yellow cloaks rode together upon a gigantic scorpion. At long last, they exposed themselves to the wind and sand, proving that they truly existed.

They slowly approached the utterly silent camp. Every person there was covered in a thick layer of fine sand, and not one of them moved. Even when the enormous scorpion crawled right up beside them, there was still no response.

“Could they all be dead?” one Root operative asked.

“Go down and inspect them. Be extremely careful. Search for the shrine maiden. You know what token to look for.”

Aburame Ryoma stood atop the giant scorpion and issued his orders with absolute composure.

“If a fight breaks out, do not meet them head-on. We have more than enough time and energy to wear them down.”

With a series of sharp movements, three Root operatives leaped from the scorpion and began cautiously examining the enemies on the ground. They were elite masked operatives tempered by countless brushes with death. Even if they were facing a skeleton, they would treat it with the utmost seriousness, as though it were the Sage of Six Paths himself.

A Root kunoichi with a graceful figure and a fierce demon mask landed beside Whitewood. Carefully, she used her long blade to peel back the thin cloak of gauze covering him.

His eye sockets were sunken from hunger and thirst, and he lay as still as the dead. His hands were crossed over his chest, tightly clutching a black hairpin. Only something of immense importance would be placed in such a position.

This was the shrine maiden's token mentioned in the mission scroll.

“The wandering shrine maiden is a man?”

The Root kunoichi paused briefly, then understood. After all, this was a top-level spy. Choosing a misleading code name was perfectly normal.

“Sir! We found the target!”

The Root operative pulled the hairpin from Whitewood's hand and called out.

“Is he still alive?”

Aburame Ryoma turned his head.

The Root operative placed two fingers against the artery in Whitewood's neck. She felt the faintest flutter and immediately answered, “He is not dead. He is still alive!”

“Crush some soldier pills, mix them with water, and feed them to him,” Aburame Ryoma ordered coldly.

“Yes!”

The Root operative began preparing the emergency medicine.

“Sir! We found the jinchuriki, Bunpuku, over here. He is alive as well. What should we do with him?”

The voice of another Root operative trembled with excitement.

“The jinchuriki...”

Aburame Ryoma also leaped down from the giant scorpion and walked toward Bunpuku, who lay within a camel-bone shrine, emaciated to the point of resembling a living Buddha carved from flesh.

A jinchuriki was one of the most important figures in any shinobi village, the greatest foundation of power with which the Five Great Villages intimidated the shinobi world. The identities of many jinchuriki were classified information. Even the identity of the Nine-Tails' host, Kushina, was known only to a handful of senior officials.

Aburame Ryoma had to handle the matter personally and with the utmost caution.

That gave Whitewood an even better opportunity.

...

The young kunoichi assigned to care for Whitewood crouched down and brought a water pouch mixed with crushed soldier pills to his lips.

Whitewood forcibly suppressed the primal urge to gulp it all down. He clenched his teeth tightly, refusing to let a single drop of clean water enter his mouth.

“Shrine maiden... wake up... Drink some water.”

The Root kunoichi gently shook Whitewood, but he showed no sign of regaining consciousness.

“Has he fallen into a deep coma?”

There was no other choice. She could only force the water down him.

The Root kunoichi removed her mask, revealing a very ordinary young woman's face. A faint scar crossed her left eye. She tipped her head back, took a mouthful of water, then pressed her lips against Whitewood's without the slightest hesitation, transferring the medicine into his mouth little by little.

Root training had extinguished every trace of ordinary humanity. From the moment they were taken in as children, boys and girls trained, ate, and bathed together, completely erasing the distinction between the sexes. To eliminate women's physical disadvantages, they even took medication for long periods to suppress female hormones.

“I am sorry... The women I have kissed never seem to meet a good end...”

Whitewood's eyes snapped open.

A mental force filled with savage terror and manic horror crashed into the Root kunoichi's mind at point-blank range. An ancient shadow of fear descended upon her cerebral cortex.

“Fear...!”

Then a powerful suction force began greedily drawing the sweet chakra from the Root kunoichi's body. It surged like a spring bursting forth, nourishing a riverbed that had been dry for ages. Whitewood's entire body trembled, and he nearly moaned from the depths of his soul.

“Spirit Drain”!!!

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