Escaping the Mist Ninja starts with backstabbing your teacher.

Chapter 171 The Uchiha Clan's "Weapon," Nameless! (4k)

Izumi stood in front of the coffin for a moment, then raised his right hand and placed it on the coffin lid.

The chakra seeped into the sealing technique on the surface of the coffin, one step at a time, methodically and steadily.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and onto the stone slabs, but his hands remained steady and unwavering.

The six stone pillars were the first to change, with ancient spells lighting up one by one on their surfaces.

The pillar emitted a blue-white fluorescent light, which spread along the patterns to the entire surface of the pillar, illuminating the dim tomb chamber as if it were daytime.

Immediately afterwards, the incantations on the stone coffin began to glow, echoing the light from the stone pillars, as if the entire underground space had been ignited.

This sealing array, which had been dormant for hundreds of years, was fully activated under Quanchuan's control, and in the last moment before being dismantled, it did its best to maintain its final dignity.

"Optimize!" Izumi murmured to himself.

A vast amount of spiritual power poured into every node of the technique like a tidal wave, and the structures that had been meticulously designed by predecessors unfolded layer by layer before his eyes.

Those structures are like precise mechanical blueprints, with every line and every node clearly visible.

He bypassed the most crucial spells, retaining only the part that maintained the state of suspended animation, and stripped away the rest.

The light on the stone pillars began to dim, one after another, like candles being blown out by the wind, making a soft "poof" sound.

The moment the last stone pillar went out, the air in the tomb chamber suddenly felt heavy.

The heaviness wasn't due to a change in air pressure, but rather as if something had opened its eyes in the darkness.

The coffin lid moved slightly. A crack, barely noticeable to the average person, appeared from the edge, causing Izumi's lips to curl into a slight smile.

"Awake? Or were you already listening in the dark?" His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly in the tomb, reverberating between the stone walls.

There was a moment of silence inside the stone coffin, and then the lid slowly slid open.

There was no roar, no vibration, only the dull sound of granite rubbing against the trough.

Like a sigh that has been suppressed for too long, slowly exhaled from the depths of time.

A pale hand reached out from the coffin and grasped the edge of it.

The fingers were slender with distinct knuckles, and bluish veins were faintly visible under the skin; the fingertips trembled slightly.

It's like I haven't exerted any force in so long that even gripping tightly has become a luxury.

Then, a slender figure sat up from the coffin.

Long, black hair fell from her shoulders, obscuring half of her pale face.

She wore a plain-colored robe in the style of the Warring States period. The fabric had decayed to the point of being as thin as paper, yet it still clung to her body, vaguely revealing the thin outline of her shoulders.

Her movements were slow and steady, as if she were using all her willpower to control every inch of her muscles, and her eyes slowly opened.

The crimson Sharingan, with three tomoe slowly rotating in its pupils, exudes a chilling and alert aura.

Like a pair of embers just rekindled from the ashes, they burned two scorching lights in the darkness.

Her gaze swept across the dimly lit tomb chamber, over the six faded stone pillars, over Izumi River standing before the coffin, and finally landed on Yokura behind him before returning to her own eyes.

She didn't speak, but just stared at Izumi, the tomoe in her Sharingan eyes slowly turning, as if reading something, or confirming something.

"You're awake." Izumi's tone was calm, as if he were merely a traveler waking up from a nap. "How are you feeling?"

Wuming opened his mouth, letting out a hoarse, low sound, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

She frowned, swallowed hard, and managed to utter, "—Where is this?"

"Narakama, the place where you were sealed away," Izumi said. "You've slept here for hundreds of years."

The nameless man's pupils contracted slightly. Hundreds of years?

Her gaze fell on her withered hands, her fingertips slightly bent and then relaxed, as if to confirm whether these hands were still her own.

She looked down at the decaying robe she was wearing and at the tarnished seal patterns inside the coffin.

There was a long silence, so long that only the faint hissing sound of sea mist seeping into the cracks in the stone could be heard in the tomb.

"Several hundred years—" Her voice was very soft, not asking Izumi River, but speaking to herself, with a sleepwalking-like daze, "I thought—I just took a nap."

"The sealing technique has suppressed your bodily functions and dulled your senses," Izumi explained. "It may just be a long dream to you, but hundreds of years have passed outside."

Wuming didn't speak again. She sat on the edge of the coffin, her hands supporting her on either side, her head bowed, her long black hair falling down and obscuring her face.

The tomoe in those Sharingan eyes slowly rotated, but they were no longer as alert as before.

Instead, it carried a bewildered, slow pace, as if struggling to process an unacceptable reality.

Izumi didn't urge him, but stood quietly to the side. He had already used up a lot of chakra to break the seal, and the sweat on his forehead was still wet, but his breathing had become steady.

Yecang leaned against the wall at the entrance of the stone steps, arms crossed, calmly observing everything.

A wisp of chakra always remained at his fingertips, ready to strike at any moment.

After a long while, Wuming finally raised his head and looked at Quanchuan's face.

The scrutiny and probing in those crimson Sharingan eyes were replaced by an empty, weary calm.

That look doesn't belong to a living person; it's more like an insect trapped in amber, still maintaining its posture from life, but empty inside.

"You've broken the seal." Her voice was still hoarse, but clearer than before. "Do you know who I am?"

"I know!" Izumi said calmly, "A weapon from which the Uchiha clan's names were erased."

"During the Warring States period, you were sealed here by the Sarutobi clan and several other ninja clans."

"Your Mangekyou Sharingan possesses the 'Eight Thousand Spears' eye technique, which allows you to manipulate the minds of others and absorb chakra from afar."

"So—I need you."

Wuming's lips twitched slightly, but it wasn't exactly a smile; it was more like a self-deprecating laugh.

That smile appeared on his pale face and vanished as quickly as it had ever existed.

"To continue being used as weapons?"

The three-tomoe Sharingan in the girl's eyes instantly transformed into the Mangekyou Sharingan.

Without any hand seals or gathering of power, black flames spontaneously ignited on Izumi's body, silently devouring the light, like tentacles reaching out from the depths of hell.

The temperature in the tomb chamber suddenly soared, the air distorted and deformed, and the moss on the stone walls curled and turned black in the heat wave.

Ye Cang was startled instantly, and an orange fireball rose in her hand, the light of the scorching release illuminating the dim tomb chamber in a bright red.

She had already located the nameless figure and was ready to throw the fireball at any moment.

But Izumi, shrouded in Amaterasu's black flames, stretched out her hand, spread her fingers, and gently pressed it towards Yogura, signaling her not to make a move.

Izumikawa's left eye, the three-tomoe Sharingan, has transformed into a kaleidoscope.

The power of the divine surged deep within his pupils, and invisible spatial rifts quietly opened around him.

Amaterasu's flames were swallowed up as if by an invisible giant mouth, wisps of them being drawn into the vortex and disappearing without a trace.

Not a single spark fell, and not a single hem of clothing was burned.

"No, they are companions." Izumi stood in front of her, the black flames around him dissipating without leaving even a trace of smoke.

He uttered those four words calmly, as if nothing had just happened.

The nameless Mangekyou Sharingan froze slightly as she watched Amaterasu's black flames being swallowed up bit by bit by those heterochromatic eyes.

Looking at Izumi Kawa standing there unharmed, looking at his kaleidoscope that was also spinning.

The background was scarlet, and the pattern of the Wind Demon's shuriken was a pattern she had never seen before.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between the kaleidoscope in his left eye and the white of his right eye, and for the first time, a genuine fluctuation appeared in his scarlet pupils.

It wasn't fear, but confusion, a bewilderment of "how could this be?"

Although she initiated the Amaterasu attack, it burned away all the disguise on Izumikawa's eyes, revealing their true appearance.

"—You're also an Uchiha?" Her voice was still hoarse, but with a hint of uncertainty.

"No!" Izumi didn't explain further. He wasn't an Uchiha, yet he possessed the Sharingan and even the Mangekyou Sharingan.

It was precisely because he was so strong that the people in front of him would not use her or discard her at will simply because they needed her.

Sometimes, interpersonal relationships are that simple: if you have enough influence, others will sit down and listen to you.

"I do need your power, but I won't use you as a weapon." Izumi's tone remained calm. "Besides, I can remove the restrictions on you."

Wuming was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled softly.

The laughter was soft and devoid of warmth, like the sound of withered leaves being blown across the ground by the wind—dry, short, and fleeting.

"Companion—" she repeated the word, as if savoring whether there was any truth to it. She rolled the two words over her tongue before slowly spitting them out. "Such a distant word."

She paused, her gaze returning to Izumi's face, the sharpness in her Sharingan eyes gradually softening. "But I probably didn't have a choice, because you're very strong."

She didn't ask, "If you weren't strong, what would you do to me?" nor did she ask, "Are you a good person?"

Those who lived through the Warring States period never asked such questions; strength and weakness were inherently right and wrong, and victory and defeat were inherently just.

She had no choice, not because Izumi Kawa threatened her, but because someone stronger than her didn't treat her as a tool, which was beyond her comprehension.

The nameless man stood up from the edge of the coffin, his movements slow but not unsteady.

Her body was already very weak. Hundreds of years of sealing had almost drained all her chakra and strength. Her legs were trembling and her fingertips were numb, but she gritted her teeth and stood up.

She looked around the tomb chamber, at the dim stone pillars, at the seal patterns on the coffin lid that had lost their luster, and finally at Izumi River.

"What's your name?"

"Taketori Izumi River."

"Taketori Izumi-gawa—" she repeated, as if memorizing the name, grinding each syllable lightly on her tongue, "Are the Taketori clan barbarians who play with bones?"

Izumi's face darkened. His reputation had been ruined, which showed how the Bamboo Cutter Clan was perceived by others.

It was not surprising that the other party knew about the Taketori clan, after all, the Taketori clan was a major clan in the Land of Fire during the Warring States period.

They were even old friends of the Hyuga clan, but they couldn't make a living there, so they went to settle in the Land of Water.

"Although I belong to the bamboo plucker clan who play with bones, I need to correct you, I am not a barbarian."

Ye Cang couldn't help but burst out laughing.

She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders were still trembling slightly, and even the taut veins on the back of her hand showed the difficulty of suppressing laughter.

This made Izumi's face darken even more, and he couldn't help but glare at Yekura.

The latter immediately turned his head away, pretending to look at the patterns on the stone wall, but he couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.

Seeing this scene, Wuming was moved. She slightly raised her lowered eyelashes and glanced back and forth between Quanchuan and Yecang.

Suddenly, I realized that this person—this person called "Barbarian"—wasn't so suffocating after all.

Their relationship wasn't like that of master and servant, nor was it about using and being used; rather, it carried a kind of relaxed quality she had never seen before.

They didn't use her as a weapon. At least since she woke up, no one has put her on the battlefield or ordered her to "do this" or "kill that."

She was even amused—though only for a brief moment.

"You can call me Nameless." That's my code name. Her voice lowered, becoming a flat statement of fact. "When my name was erased, this was all I had left."

Izumikawa frowned: "Then what's your real name?"

A long silence.

Wuming seemed to be pondering, his brows furrowed slightly, his gaze drifting towards the bottomless darkness in the corner of the tomb.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if trying to catch a fragment that had long since drifted away in the air.

But in the end, the light in her eyes dimmed, like a candle flame being blown out by the wind.

"—I forgot."

She spoke calmly, without sadness or anger, only a numb acceptance of everything.

The seal, which lasted for hundreds of years, not only sealed her body but also erased the few warm memories she had left.

Izumi looked at her and remained silent for a moment.

Then, he reached into the Divine Might Space, took out a neatly folded black robe from the void, and handed it over.

The fabric was thick and the stitches were fine, a stark contrast to her plain, decaying robe that would crumble at the slightest touch.

"Then let's keep 'Nameless' for now. Tell me when you remember it."

Wuming did not answer. She silently took the black robe, her fingertips pausing slightly as they touched the fabric. It was supple, thick, and carried a hint of warmth.

She spread out her black robe and draped it over herself, covering all the decaying fragments.

Her face was hidden in the shadow of the hood, with only her scarlet Sharingan eyes shining faintly in the darkness, like two newly ignited stars.

Izumi turned around and walked towards the stone steps.

Let's go!

Inside the tomb, the last remaining glimmer of the seal's light finally went out.

The six stone pillars were completely plunged into darkness, with only the gray light of the sea mist filtering in from the stone steps casting the three figures into slender silhouettes.

Wuming lifted her foot and took her first step, her bare feet touching the damp stone slabs. The icy touch spread from the soles of her feet, but she did not pull back.

For the first time in hundreds of years, she had taken the initiative to approach someone.

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