Kakashi exhaled quietly once he stepped off the field.
He knew exactly how close that match had been. If Ning Rongrong hadn't overextended at the end—if she had stayed disciplined and kept her distance—he would have lost without question.
It wasn't a flaw in her strength. It was a flaw in judgment.
And if the terrain had been anything other than this wide-open construction site—if there were trees, shadows, traps—Kakashi was confident the outcome would have been different. But combat was never about ifs. Victory belonged to whoever made fewer mistakes.
The loss didn't dampen the atmosphere in the slightest.
If anything, it stoked it.
"I'm next."
Feng Xiaotian stepped forward, eyes already locked onto his target.
Sasori of the Sand.
Unlike Kakashi, Sasori showed no enthusiasm at all.
He hadn't wanted to be here. Granny Chiyo had practically forced him onto this mission, insisting he needed to "see the world." Only after hearing rumors from Konoha and Hidden Mist had his interest stirred—rumors about techniques that ignored hand seals, about systems of power that didn't rely on chakra alone.
But sparring?
With kids?
Pointless.
Sensing Sasori's reluctance, Feng Xiaotian smiled faintly. "Boss Li values talent. If you impress him, you might learn our techniques."
That got a reaction.
Sasori's eyes flicked sideways—just briefly—to Li Rong. There was no denial.
Hand-seal-less techniques.
Mid-air movement without chakra footholds.
Those weren't tricks. They were assets worth dissecting.
Sasori's expression cooled. Without another word, he snapped two scrolls from his sleeves.
Bang. Bang.
White smoke exploded outward.
Six grotesque puppets emerged, their limbs twisted with hidden joints and weapon ports. Chakra threads snapped into place as Sasori lifted his fingers.
Three puppets floated.
Three grounded themselves.
A killing formation.
Kakashi's pupils shrank. Six at once—clean control, no wasted movement. Against this setup, his own chances would have been slim at best.
Feng Xiaotian, however, didn't hesitate.
He didn't fully release his Spirit. Instead, he wrapped wind-attribute power around his body and surged forward like a gale, charging straight into the formation.
The response was immediate.
Kunai shot from elbow joints. Poison needles burst from knee ports. Senbon spat from puppet mouths in overlapping arcs.
The air itself became lethal.
Feng Xiaotian retreated in a blur, footwork tightening to its limits as he weaved through the barrage. Each dodge was precise, but the pressure mounted relentlessly.
So this is puppetry, he thought, frowning. No gaps. No wasted motion.
This wouldn't end well if it dragged on.
"Hmph."
His spirit power surged.
A dense aura erupted outward, blasting away the poison needles mid-flight. Wind condensed violently along his arms, extending into two massive cyan blades nearly three meters long. The ground beneath him groaned as the spinning edges carved deep furrows.
He struck.
The nearest puppet leapt aside exactly as Sasori commanded—but the chakra thread snapped into view.
One clean slash.
The control line severed.
The puppet dropped lifelessly—and Feng Xiaotian crushed it before it hit the ground.
Sasori's expression flickered.
The remaining puppets retreated instantly, but Feng Xiaotian pressed forward, roaring as he brought his blades down again. One puppet was cleaved in half, fragments scattering like scrap metal.
Too fragile, Feng Xiaotian realized. Defense is weak. Speed is average.
He'd found the weakness.
Spirit power flared as he advanced, extending his wind blades and slashing downward from distance.
Sasori reacted fast—commanding the remaining puppets to leap back in unison, narrowly escaping the strike.
The pressure didn't stop.
A horizontal sweep from Feng Xiaotian's left blade forced Sasori to sacrifice a shield-bearing puppet. The reinforced metal shield split with a screech, tearing apart under the wind's vibration.
Two strikes. No decisive finish.
Feng Xiaotian knew the cost. This form drained him rapidly.
He canceled the blades.
Then released everything.
The compressed wind blade tore free from his arm, screaming through the air and carving a trench straight toward Sasori.
A puppet snapped into place.
Chakra Shield.
Blue energy flared, intercepting the attack.
Feng Xiaotian's eyes sharpened.
He clapped his hands.
The wind blade condensed further—frequency skyrocketing—its cyan glow intensifying as it drilled forward.
"Slash!"
The shield shattered.
The specialized puppet split cleanly in two.
The blade didn't stop.
Sasori was forced to reveal his hand.
Bang!
Two new puppets burst from hidden scrolls, overlapping shields just barely halting the remaining force.
Dust settled.
Feng Xiaotian stood still, chest rising and falling. His spirit power was spent.
"I lost," he said plainly.
Sasori had won—but his face was dark.
Four puppets destroyed. One of them reinforced with chakra metal.
Worse, his defensive trump cards were now exposed in front of four villages.
As he collected the wreckage in silence, his gaze lingered on Feng Xiaotian—cold, calculating, memorizing.
Huo Wu stepped forward immediately. "I'm next."
Mei Terumī accepted without retreat.
Fire surged.
Mist answered.
Their clash was violent and brief.
Huo Wu tore through concealment with pure speed, her flames ripping holes through the fog. Mei Terumī's wide-area Water Release forced an opening—but it also gave away her position.
One exchange at close range.
One solid blow.
Mei Terumī dropped to her knees, breath knocked from her lungs.
The mist was dispersed.
The victor was clear.
The field buzzed with rising intensity.
Challenges followed in rapid succession.
Asuma was overwhelmed by Feng Xin's relentless sword pressure.
Composite Ninjutsu failed to bridge the gap.
Qian Renxue challenged Minato—and was completely dismantled.
Speed. Reaction. Experience.
She couldn't even force him to reveal Flying Thunder God.
When it ended, the lesson was unmistakable.
Power mattered.
But control, judgment, and timing decided everything.
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