Ōnoki stared at the thick document placed on his desk, the large characters on its cover sinking into his vision like a weight.
Training Ground.
Just those two words were enough to make his temples throb.
"Who sent this?" he asked slowly, without reaching for it.
The ANBU knelt on one knee, head lowered. "Matsuri-sama delivered it personally. She did not give further explanation."
Ōnoki's brows drew together. "Then why was it sent to Roshi?"
In the past, anything related to the Sacrificial Shop had always passed through Orochimaru or Sasori—two people who understood how to grease the gears between worlds, how to poison a deal with sweetness before demanding blood.
The ANBU answered cautiously, "Orochimaru and Sasori have not appeared at the Sacrificial Shop for a long time. This document was distributed directly by Mojiao this morning… to five patrol captains."
Ōnoki fell silent.
Those five names surfaced immediately in his mind, unbidden.
Roshi of Iwagakure.
Hyūga Hizashi of Konoha.
Yugito Nii of Kumogakure.
Kisame Hoshigaki of Kirigakure.
Pakura of Sunagakure.
Five people. Five villages. Five figures whose identities were too sharp to be coincidence.
For a fleeting moment, Ōnoki genuinely considered burning the document without opening it.
Every transaction with the Sacrificial Shop followed the same pattern: temptation first, suffocation later. Benefits you could not refuse. Prices you could not afford.
Iwagakure was still gasping under the weight of the chakra network debt—sixty-one years of repayment, calculated down to the last decimal. His sleep had deteriorated so badly that even his dreams had become labor contracts and construction sites. Sometimes he woke up sweating, still "working" in his sleep, moving bricks, signing repayment seals.
And yet—
Every deal had worked.
Painfully. Brutally. Profitably.
After a long, grinding silence, Ōnoki exhaled and opened the document.
His eyes moved line by line.
Combat without permanent injury.
Points rewarded for victory.
Points exchangeable for special Sacrificial Shop missions.
Higher probability of Longevity Pills.
Ranked matches.
Limited-edition item access.
The words were dazzling.
Ōnoki felt nothing.
If anything, his wariness deepened.
He had learned the Sacrificial Shop's rhythm too well. When rewards looked this clean, the trap was simply buried deeper.
Kaguya's name surfaced in his thoughts like ice.
The seal had broken.
The Six Paths Sage's mother had returned.
Only after it happened did Ōnoki finally understand why Black Zetsu had been willing to compromise with the Five Great Villages at any cost. Sacrificial coins had never been currency—they were keys. Keys to the moon. Keys to catastrophe.
Uchiha Madara alone had nearly crushed the world.
Now something worse existed.
The only mercy was that Kaguya, after being unsealed, had remained quiet. Black Zetsu honored the agreement. White Zetsu cultivated without stirring chaos. The world held its breath.
And now, at this exact moment, the Sacrificial Shop introduced something new.
Ōnoki closed the document.
He didn't negotiate.
He went straight to the camp.
He found the Spirit Beasts and demanded answers—not angrily, not loudly, but with the quiet stubbornness of someone who would simply keep coming back. If one Spirit Beast brushed him off, he left and asked another. No threats. No theatrics.
Just persistence.
To the Spirit Beasts' surprise, the other Kage followed.
One by one, they arrived.
Their demand was unified: establish the Training Ground, yes—but explain it clearly. No riddles. No half-truths. The Kage had endured enough sleepless nights.
Under the pressure, the Spirit Beasts finally relented.
They explained—selectively.
The Training Tower was a dueling space. A controlled arena. A preparatory bridge for limited interaction between the Ninja World and the Douluo Continent. A rehearsal, not an invasion.
The Five Kage exchanged looks and, for the first time since receiving the document, felt their shoulders loosen.
They signed.
Seals were pressed.
Debts were added.
Golden light erupted above the Training Grounds of both worlds.
A massive projection unfolded in the sky.
[Server Announcement]
Gasps rippled through the square as the words clarified.
New modes.
Cross-world competition.
Unified level conversion.
Free trade platforms.
A temporary event.
Plane Exchange Battle.
Rules followed. Formats unfolded. Numbers escalated.
Seven versus seven.
One hundred thousand versus one hundred thousand.
One versus one.
By the time the announcement ended, both worlds were already in motion.
On the Douluo side, power converged rapidly.
Gu Yuena arrived personally.
Ditian stood beside her, restraining his displeasure with visible effort. In his eyes, most humans were not worth a word—yet today demanded restraint.
When Ning Fengzhi stepped forward and proposed temporary command, no one objected.
Human forces nodded.
Even the Demon Emperor remained silent.
Ditian clenched his jaw but said nothing. After recent losses, the Spirit Beast clan had no room for pride-driven mistakes. Ruining this matter would earn him enemies not only among humans, but within his own race.
Gu Yuena answered calmly. "Alright."
Ning Fengzhi released a quiet breath and began deploying.
Selections.
Timelines.
Fallback plans.
For the legion battle, his analysis was ruthless.
Random teleportation.
No spirit tools.
No external supply.
Seventy-two hours of survival.
Pure attack lineups would collapse.
Support without protection would die first.
Balance was survival.
When he proposed Spirit Beasts as the core legion force, resistance failed to appear—not because humans trusted Spirit Beasts, but because the logic was unassailable.
Environmental adaptability.
Innate endurance.
Racial diversity.
Spirit Masters would supplement. Spirit Beasts would endure.
Finally, Ning Fengzhi turned to Gu Yuena again.
"The final match," he said, bowing slightly, "rests entirely on you."
Gu Yuena's expression never changed.
"Alright."
The decision settled like stone.
The war between planes was no longer hypothetical.
It had begun.