THE PATH OF LIFE || U. SASUKE

CHAPTER 3

"Still merciful, even after all this time."

The vast training ground was hidden deep within a forest shrouded by thick canopies, where light barely kissed the earth. 

Dark trees loomed around the space, their jagged shadows stretching across charred dirt and patches of scorched grass. This was no place for hesitation or softness—only survival thrived here.

Yatsuragi stood atop a broad rock ledge overlooking the chaos below, his arms folded in a relaxed manner. 

His flowing robes stirred faintly in the breeze, giving him the air of a serene sage. The faint flicker of amusement danced in his golden eyes, though his expression remained unreadable—gentle yet shrouded by mystery. 

Was it genuine kindness or a well-polished veneer? Even those closest to him could not be certain.

Below him, Y/N moved like a tempest unleashed.

Her violet eyes burned with intensity as she spun, dodging the serrated blade of one of Yatsuragi's masked subordinates. 

The assassin lunged again, but Y/N countered with precision, her hand lashing out to shatter his wrist. The crack of bone echoed through the clearing, followed by a strangled grunt of pain. 

Without hesitation, she drove her palm into his chest, sending him sprawling into the dust.

At least a dozen of Yatsuragi's subordinates lay sprawled around the clearing, groaning faintly or rendered completely unconscious. Their weapons—kunai, shuriken, and other tools of war—glinted uselessly in the fading light.

Y/N hadn't drawn a single drop of blood.

Despite the undeniable ruthlessness in her movements, every strike, every well-timed flick of her wrist had been precise enough to incapacitate without permanent damage. 

Limbs had been rendered numb by targeted chakra disruptions, joints dislocated and locked, but no mortal injuries marred the defeated group. 

She had, once again, refused to cross that invisible line.

He'd seen countless prodigies—many broken by ambition, others consumed by violence. Yet Y/N was a mystery.

She had grown powerful under his tutelage, a force to be reckoned with. But even after two years of relentless training, even after being shaped by the darkness she now walked in, there was still a part of her that hesitated. 

Cruelty coursed through her veins, yes—but it lacked finality. 

Her blade remained sharp but untainted by blood.

The final guy who struggled to remain conscious, staggered toward Y/N, desperation flickering in his eyes. His chakra flared wildly as he launched a reckless charge.

Y/N didn't move until the last possible moment.

Then she was a blur—silent, swift, and deadly.

Her palm struck the shinobi's chest with enough force to rattle his ribs, sending a shockwave of chakra through his system that rendered his body completely immobile. He collapsed to the ground, gasping as numbness overtook him.

Y/N straightened slowly, her black hair catching the waning sunlight as she surveyed the fallen. Her expression remained blank, unbothered by the carnage she had wrought.

Above, Yatsuragi clapped his hands slowly, the sound echoing through the clearing. 

"Impressive, as always," he said, his voice smooth, carrying an almost fatherly warmth. He descended gracefully from the platform, his footsteps soft against the stone path. "Efficient, precise—yet merciful."