Konoha: Superman template, the spoiled brat becomes strong.

He recalled that three days earlier, the Chancellor of the Exchequer had presented him with a newly revised edition of the "History of the Five Nations Alliance," the title page of which read, "All traitors have been brought to justice."

Chapter 993 They didn't escape!

But now, the name on the clock face burned in his palm, as if saying, "Traitor?."

That's someone who tells the truth.

“From this day forward,” he suddenly spoke, causing the copper bells on the eaves to ring loudly, “before any ceremony in Cloud Village, three people to be erased must be called out first.”

The intelligence ninja looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes: "But the Finance Department..."

“Their mouths cannot control the soul of Yunyin.” Bi clenched the bell, beads of blood seeping from between his fingers dripping onto the engravings. “Go and relay my orders.”

That night, the torches at the Cloud Hidden Temple flickered in the wind.

Shadow Guard Captain A Tie stood before the altar, holding a bronze plate, and read out the first name according to the new decree: "Wang Jiuhe".

The hall suddenly became so quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat.

A-Tie's hands began to tremble, and the bronze plate clattered to the ground.

He knelt down with a thud, his forehead pressed against the bluestone slab: "Lord Ying, my father... is Wang Jiuhe... They say he's a traitor, but he just refused to stamp the memorial about the 'massacre of the village in the Land of Thunder'..."

Bi stood on the steps, watching the violent heaving of A Tie's shoulders.

He didn't speak, but simply reached out and pressed his hand against the guillotine at his waist—the scabbard still bore the fingerprints of his father, the Third Raikage.

The night wind carried A-Tie's sobs through the temple gate, causing the incense offerings on the altar to sway precariously, but it never extinguished the ever-burning lamp.

In the ruins of Guiyuan Shrine, Baiye's palm was deeply embedded in the scorched earth.

He could feel the earth's veins trembling, like a giant beast being awakened, pushing the calls of the snowfields, the cries of the Cloud Village, and the blood-red words of the water prison all toward the Fire City's underground vault.

Wood Release chakra surged through his veins, condensing into an emerald-colored net of light at his fingertips. Each strand of light was entwined with countless names, like a string of stars in the sky.

"It's time to wake up," he said softly.

At the same moment, the "Mingming Bell" in the north of the Fire Capital suddenly rang on its own.

The sound of bells, carrying the coldness of the snow-covered country wind, the sharpness of the thunder hidden in the clouds, and the dampness of the stone walls of the water dungeon, converged into a river of sound, crashing open the stone gate of the underground vault.

Fujiwara Shizuka and Onodera Ren opened their eyes at the same time in the darkness.

Their palms were still pressed against the stone wall, and beads of blood formed lines along the stone's texture.

It's unclear who spoke first, but the two voices clashed like two flames, so hot they made the stone wall tremble: "Li Chengyan—"

Outside the high walls of the Shige, three hundred and twenty-seven names suddenly appeared.

Some of them are written in blood, some are frozen in ice, and some carry the scent of ink. Layer upon layer, they resemble a breathing forest of steles.

Speaker Stanford slumped in the ruins of the secret hall, staring at the names on the wall, and finally heard the whispered words at the end: "Now, it's our turn to call roll."

Bai Ye released his hand from the soil.

The ground around Guiyuan Shrine is still trembling, as if echoing the distant tolling of bells.

He stared at the beads of blood seeping from his palm, which shimmered pale blue in the moonlight—a sign of overuse of Wood Release.

The wind swept up a piece of broken tile, revealing newly sprouted vines at the base of the wall, which were climbing along the cracks in the ground towards the border of the five countries.

“The shadows no longer lie,” he murmured to the starry sky. “They have begun to tell the truth.”

The scorched earth of Guiyuan Shrine trembled beneath Baiye's feet, as if thousands of tiny snakes were slithering underground.

He looked down at his palm, where pale blue blood beads were seeping into the soil and intertwining with the roots of newly sprouted vines—within those emerald veins, fragments of memories of those erased from various countries clearly flowed: the sobs of A'Tie in the Cloud Hidden Temple, the blood-red words on the stone walls of the water prison, the tolling of the bells in the north of the Fire Capital, all of which now flowed into his senses along the earth's veins.

"Not enough," he muttered to himself, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The wood chakra burned through his meridians, a warning of overuse, but he instead pressed his other hand into the ground.

What fingertips touched was no longer scorched earth, but something warm and alive—the resonance of the Five Kingdoms Memory Tree was penetrating the seal on the third underground floor of the Shige. Although the sound waves of Fujiwara Shizuka and Onodera Ren were weak, they were like two seeds soaked in spring rain, pushing aside the boulder pressing down on them.

“Names are not symbols, they are lifelines.” He closed his eyes, cold sweat beading on his forehead. “Now, let them take root.”

The earth's tremors suddenly intensified, and the broken walls of the Guiyuan Shrine emitted a faint cracking sound.

Bai Ye suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils reflecting the trajectory of the rampant growth of vines—they were darting along the cracks in the ground towards the City of Fire, and wherever they passed, the scorched earth churned up, even oozing specks of fluorescent light, like stars sealed for thousands of years finally seeing the light of day again.

At the same moment, in the water dungeon north of the Fire City, Fujiwara Shizuka's fingernails dug deeply into her palms.

She could feel the blood droplets on her fingertips no longer seeping into the cracks in the stone as before, but instead flowing upstream along the patterns, gathering into tiny streams on the wall. "Shizuka, look!" Onodera Ren suddenly grabbed her wrist, his voice trembling.

The two looked up and saw the blood lines on the stone wall wriggling, as if written by an invisible pen.

Fujiwara Shizuka held her breath, the musty smell of the water prison mixed with the smell of rust filling her nostrils, but she could only hear her own heart pounding. "It's the Mantra Vine Spores..." Onodera Ren suddenly whispered, his fingertips tracing the bloodline, "Shige used them to corrode memories, and now... now our blood has been modified, turned into living ink!"

She bit her palm hard, blood dripping onto the stone wall and splattering into tiny droplets. "Third reconnaissance team, Morikawa Satoru!" she whispered into the crack in the wall, her voice filled with a desperate, reckless determination.

In the darkness of the water dungeon, the two watched as drops of blood seeped into the cracks in the stone, and then—with the faintest "click"—a tender sprout emerged from the crack in the wall.

The tender buds sprouted at a speed visible to the naked eye, and the veins of the leaves even shone with a pale gold color when they unfurled.

Fujiwara Shizuka leaned closer and, upon seeing the words in the leaf veins, her eyes instantly welled up with tears: "The Third Reconnaissance Team, all members perished on the border of the Land of Wind, recorded by the historian as deserters." She trembled as she touched the words, her fingertips feeling the warmth of the leaf veins as if touching thirty-seven cold corpses speaking.

“They didn’t escape.” Onodera Ren’s voice was hoarse. “The last secret letter Captain Morikawa sent back, I locked it myself in the deepest part of the archives… but Shige said it was a forgery.” She bit her other hand, pressing the blood against the tender bud. “Write another one, write Matsumoto Kiyoshi, the logistics team captain—”

In the artisan workshops of the Fire City's South District, the flames of the furnaces illuminated the night sky.

Tanaka Hisashi's hand, gripping the hammer, veins bulging, saw fragments of the "Mingming Bell" melt into pure gold in the crucible. He roared at the onlookers, "The sound of the bell can spread one's name, and the nail can fix one's soul!"

These names must not be blown away by the wind or washed away by the water!

The old craftsman leader handed over the newly cast nail, its metal surface still radiating intense heat.

Tanaka Hisashi took it and walked towards the old well on the street corner.

A crowd had already gathered around the well. An elderly woman with white hair clutched a faded handkerchief, and a young man held his father's old knife. "The first well, on the east wall of the Tongshi Pavilion." He raised a nail, and the moment the hammer fell, the crowd held their breath.

"when--".

Chapter 994 Ahe... Ahe's name...

Amidst the clanging of metal against bluestone, ripples suddenly spread across the well water.

The old woman suddenly rushed to the well, pressing her hand into her reflection on the water's surface, tears streaming down her face. "Ahe...Ahe said, 'Please tell my mother that I didn't steal the grain; it was the officials from the Imperial Archives who robbed it...'" When she looked up, her face was a mixture of tears and laughter. "These are what my son said before his execution, but the Imperial Archives wrote that he was a grain thief!"

Sobbing erupted from the crowd.

Tanaka Hisashi wiped his face and walked towards the second well.

As the hammer fell again, he heard a faint rustling sound of vines coming from afar—it was coming from the direction of the Guiyuan Shrine. The vines were climbing up the base of the city wall, and wherever they went, the markings of "traitor" and "rebel" on the wall were peeling away, revealing the real names covered underneath.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away on the snowy border, Kazama Shin, wrapped in a tattered cotton robe, stood before an unmarked monument.

The village where he taught for ten years has long been abandoned, leaving only a row of stone tablets inscribed with "Nameless".

The moonlight was exceptionally bright tonight, and he saw that the surface of the monument suddenly cracked open, as if something was trying to crawl out from inside.

Kazama Shin reached out and touched the crack, feeling a slight itch on his fingertips—it was a vine sprout emerging from the frozen soil at the base of the monument and climbing up the crack.

Looking at the tender green buds, he suddenly remembered the last file he copied in the archives twenty years ago: "Eighteen villages in the snowfield were wiped out by a blizzard." But when he copied it by hand, he clearly saw a line of small print on the edge of the original manuscript: "The eighteen villages refused to hand over military rations and were slaughtered."

The night wind whipped up snowflakes that stung his face.

Kazama Shin crouched down and used his frozen fingers to dig away the snow in front of the monument.

The frozen soil below was bluish, as if life was surging within it.

He heard a faint "click" sound, and when he looked up, he saw the first tender leaf sprouting from the crack in the nameless monument in the very center.

Kazama Shin's fingertips were still covered with the sap of the vine buds, and the fresh scent of grass mixed with the chill of the snowflakes entered his nostrils.

He trembled as he plucked a vine. The texture was unlike that of ordinary plants—its surface was covered with extremely fine hairs, each one feeling like it was gently tapping his skin, as if transmitting some kind of warmth. "It's alive." His Adam's apple bobbed as he tossed the vine into the bronze stove he carried with him.

The charcoal fire crackled and popped in the stove. The vines curled up into a ball as soon as they touched the flames, but instead of turning black, they emitted a pale blue light, much like the "fragments of memory" recorded in the historical documents.

Kazama Shin stared at the light until the vines burned to dust. As soon as the ashes fell into the snowdrift, new shoots sprouted with a "whoosh".

"How could this be..." He staggered backward, his lower back hitting the nameless monument.

The newly grown vines were denser than before, and the writing on the leaves was clearer—"Muramasa, 20 years old, had his leg broken by the grain requisition team," "Akiku, 13 years old, took the blame for her mother."

Kazama Shin suddenly laughed, his laughter tinged with tears: "It's not a technique... it's that these names have to come to life on their own."

He turned and rushed into the abandoned school building, pulling out a carving knife hidden in the rafters.

The villagers, who had been lying in the snow, had gathered around. An elderly man with white hair clutched a faded wooden plaque, and a woman held an empty swaddling cloth containing a baby—their loved ones had all been written as "unknown" by Shi Ge. "Carve it into the frozen lake!" Kazama Shin raised his carving knife. "Ice can seal a body, but it can't seal a name!"

The ice surface shimmered with a deep blue hue under the moonlight. Kazama Shin was the first to kneel down, and the sound of the carving knife cutting through the ice was just like the crisp sound of an inkstone shattering in the Shige Pavilion twenty years ago.

Just as the words "Muramasa" disappeared into the ice, a warm current suddenly rose from the distance—it was Byakuya's Wood Release chakra flowing in along the earth's veins.

The vines beneath the ice instantly stretched out, tightly binding the engravings, causing the ice surface to freeze even thicker.

“It won’t freeze.” Kazama Shin gazed at the green shadows wriggling in the ice, his breath blurring his vision. “The colder it gets, the deeper the roots grow.”

A thousand miles away, at the Cloud-Hidden Thunder Cliff, the heel of a boot crushed a thin layer of ice.

He stared at the crimson vines sprouting from the crevices at the bottom of the cliff, his brows furrowed—the vines were growing around the three characters "Wang Jiuhe," and Wang Jiuhe was a Cloud Village Jonin who was executed three years ago for "treason," and his name had long since disappeared from the historical records.

"Burn." He gestured with his chin towards the shadow guard.

As soon as the Shadow Guard's fire-style technique touched the vines, the crimson flames mysteriously shrank to orange. The vines unfurled their leaves in the fire, and Wang Jiuhe's face was reflected in every vein: "Lord Raikage, I did not collude with the enemy. It was the Minister of Finance who accepted gold from Iwagakure..." When the flames died down, the vines sprouted three new branches, and the three characters "Wang Jiuhe" shone brightly.

Bi silently drew his chakra blade, the blade drawing blood from his palm.

The moment the blood dripped onto the vines, he felt a warmth at his fingertips—the vines, as if alive, wrapped around his palms and climbed up his arm along the veins. "If you are a fake," he stared at the fragments of memory floating within the vines, his voice low as muffled thunder, "why can't you burn them out?"

The vines suddenly trembled slightly, and Bi's pupils contracted slightly—he saw Wang Jiuhe's memories within the vines: secret reports late at night, bloodstained ledgers, and the Finance Minister's cold, sneer.

"Lord Shadow!" The Shadow Guard's exclamation interrupted his thoughts.

Looking down at her palm, she saw that the vines had faded into a faint red mark, like a newly formed blood vessel.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white: "Go and bring all of the Chancellor of the Exchequer's files here."

The night in the City of Fire was tinged with a bluish-green by the fluorescent light from the ancient well.

Bai Ye pressed himself against the brick wall of the North Well, the inscribed spores on his fingertips gleaming with an eerie light—this was the last one, and the most crucial one.

He pressed the spores into the cracks in the water veins, and chakra surged out with the water flow, like salt grains sprinkled into hot oil. At the same time, the ancient wells throughout the city emitted a soft "humming" sound.

An old woman from Nanshi knelt by the well, her trembling hands stroking the vines on the well wall: "Ahe... Ahe's name..." A string of bubbles rose from the well water, each bubble reflecting a young face.

Inside the secret hall of the Speaker, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He stared at the roots sprouting from the cracks in the floorboards, each one entwined with a name that had been erased, and suddenly raised his voice: "Form a Silence Barrier!"

As soon as the blue light of the barrier enveloped the secret hall, the roots, like an enraged swarm of snakes, frantically rammed against the inner wall of the barrier. With a crisp "snap," the thickest root pierced through the blue light, leaving behind a string of fine incantations.

The speaker staggered backward, knocking over the "History of the Fire Country" on the table. As the pages flew, the list of "traitors" sandwiched inside was swept away by the roots and scattered into snowflakes in the air.

On the crumbling pillars of Guiyuan Shrine, Bai Ye gazed at the green light spreading towards the City of Fire, a faint smile curving his lips.

He could feel the vines growing in the earth's veins, each one connected to the roots of the Memory Tree—those erased names were taking root in this land in the most primal way.

"You deleted the names," he whispered to the night wind, his voice as cold and hard as ice, "but names remember people."

Chapter 995 Buried Alive

Suddenly, his fingertips felt slightly hot—it was the vibration from the earth's veins.

Bai Ye closed his eyes to sense his surroundings, and the smile on his lips gradually faded.

The roots of the memory tree are intertwining with the vines of names, and some larger connection is taking shape underground.

"It's not over yet." He opened his eyes, his pupils flashing with green light. "It's just begun."

The crumbling pillars of Guiyuan Shrine groaned softly in the night wind, and Baiye's fingertips traced the mottled patterns on the wooden planks.

This wooden piece of the Heart Mirror was buried in the roots of the Divine Tree by the First Hokage before his death. The texture of it contains the warmth of the First Hokage's chakra. He had seen it in a dream of the Divine Tree. When Hashirama Senju pressed the wooden piece into the soil, he said, "The shadow always thinks it can replace the light, but it doesn't know that the traces of the light have long been engraved in the earth."

He crouched down and aimed the wooden piece at the crack in the shrine's foundation.

The moment the wooden piece touched the crack in the rock, the earth trembled with intense heat, as if something alive was churning underground. "Shadows aren't afraid of light, but they are afraid of mirrors," he said in a low, hoarse voice, mingling with the soft thud of falling stone chips. "Now, let every double see who they are."

The moment the wooden chip sank into the foundation, ripples suddenly appeared in the ancient well of the southern city of the Fire Capital.

Beside the well, Tanaka Hisashi was copying names onto vine leaves with a pen. As soon as the ink touched the paper, the vines curled up and wrapped tightly around the pen as if they were alive.

His pupils contracted slightly—this was the seventh time. Each time he wrote down the erased name, the trembling of the vines resonated with the vibrations of the water veins in the well.

"Old Chen!" He turned around and knocked over the inkstone on the table, splashing ink onto the blue bricks along the well. "You said this vine can sense names, so what if you burn a name into a tile..." Before he could finish speaking, he had already grabbed half a burnt brick with the character "Fire" on it, the surface of which still had the unburned traces of the character "Loyalty".