The tip of the sword dragged along the floor, making a harsh, scraping sound as Hitomi walked slowly, facing a group of samurai.
In the long, narrow corridor of the room, the paper doors on both sides were tightly shut, but this couldn't block Hitomi's sight.
Inside were four naked old men and a woman covered in bruises.
Hitomi didn't look further, her eyes, full of rage behind her mask, stared directly at the group of guard samurai.
Compared to the thuggish samurai of the Flower Street, this uniformly dressed group of samurai looked more respectable.
But, it was disgusting.
Although they were just trying to make a living, Hitomi's killing intent was stirred.
Killing intent boiled, rippling outwards like water.
Even with the mask, her emotions were displayed without concealment.
Everyone felt this killing intent, stinging their skin like needles, enduring immense mental pressure, their hands gripping their swords trembling slightly.
The person in front of them was a little terrifying.
On the sword resting on her shoulder, eerie drops of blood dripped along the blade.
Her white hooded robe was already covered in large patches of blood, the color a dark, reddish-black.
Blood dripped from her hem slowly to the floor, the dripping sound mixing with everyone's heavy breathing, echoing oppressively.
Everything before them silently exuded a terrifying psychological pressure.
Not to mention the corridor behind this person, which was like hell, splattered with blood.
A floor littered with bodies lying haphazardly, illustrating the horror of the person before them.
As Hitomi advanced, a large group of sword-wielding samurai slowly retreated in fear.
No one wanted to die if they could live.
But…
"Ah ah ah ah ah!" A young samurai, about twenty years old, trembled and screamed, rushing towards Hitomi. His movement pattern didn't falter as he advanced, a testament to years of hard training, and he quickly brought his raised sword down with great force.
In a corridor only wide enough for four or five people, there wasn't enough space to dodge; this was the most suitable terrain for a swordsman to fight.
Without using a secret sword technique, just pure swordsmanship, Hitomi moved her feet to dodge the descending strike and quickly swung her sword.
The young man's head flew into the sky, his headless body fell forward to its knees, blood splattering everywhere.
Hitomi continued to walk slowly forward.
Her head slightly lowered, the bird-shaped mask, shadowed by her hood, was visible, with drops of blood sliding down it.
"This guy!!!"
The samurai gasped heavily, many of them beginning to tremble violently.
Immense fear had long since overwhelmed their bodies and minds.
But, no one fled.
Although their professions were different, Hitomi understood them, even if it was disgusting.
"Is it a samurai's loyalty?"
"What a pity."
"You've followed the wrong people."
"So…"
"Die!"
Hitomi's response was a battle cry from the samurai.
Roaring, bolstering their morale and courage, the samurai, with distorted and ferocious faces, rushed forward, raising their swords quickly.
And Hitomi, at the same time, quickly moved to meet them.
She swung her sword; the middle-aged samurai at the front hadn't even had time to react when a slash appeared across his chest. As blood gushed out and he fell forward, Hitomi had already passed him, moving on to the next person.
Then she cut him down.
The young samurai who reacted tried to block, but he and his sword were cut open. All that remained before his eyes was a bright, mournful flash of a blade, the splattered blood decorating the air like cherry blossoms.
What beautiful swordsmanship…
Hitomi weaved through the charging crowd, rapidly swinging her sword left and right, moving with successive small steps, ducking, turning, stepping aside, leaping, and spinning in mid-air.
Flashes of white blade light continuously appeared in the crowd, accompanied by blossoming blood and short, sharp screams.
In just over ten seconds, Hitomi cut through the crowd.
When she flicked her wrist to shake off the blood, drops formed a line, striking the paper door to the side, and the samurai behind her successively fell to the ground.
Bodies piled up haphazardly.
In the spacious room, four old men, illuminated by the dim, ambiguous light, watched the bloodstains and silhouettes seeping through the paper doors with trembling fear.
There were headless bodies leaning weakly, slow-sliding red handprints one after another, and also…
The figure of that sword-wielding demon.
The paper door slowly opened, and the four men screamed in alarm, like rusty gongs.
They clung together, trembling like sieves.
A bloody footprint appeared on the clean tatami, followed by a second.
Hitomi silently walked into the room.
The young woman, simply wrapped in some clothing, hid in the corner in terror.
She was beautiful, but Hitomi didn't look at her.
Her gaze was fixed on the four men.
"Do you know who I am?!"
"I am a noble of the Land of Fire!!!"
"If I give the order!"
"You will face the endless pursuit of the Konoha Ninja!!!"
As that person was about to continue, a fat man next to him slapped him directly across the face, with great force.
It almost knocked him unconscious, his body swaying unsteadily.
"I have a lot of money!!! What do you want?! I can give it to you!!!"
"Money? Power? Women? Men? Land?"
"Anything!!!"
"Esteemed Sir! Everything can be discussed!!!"
How disgusting…
Hitomi looked at the dead men; she didn't want to waste another word on them.
With a tap of her foot, she charged forward like a ghost with a Body Flicker. These people, accustomed to pleasure, were no match for Hitomi. They only had time to widen their eyes before Hitomi successively cut them down with her sword.
Waist-cutting.
This was a form of torture.
Those subjected to waist-cutting would die a painful death after some time, during which they could only watch death slowly approach.
They would suffer immense mental torment before dying.
Screams tore through the room, the four men crying out in terror, dragging their half-bodies in confusion and disarray, slowly crawling on the tatami.
She didn't look at them again.
Hitomi flicked her wrist to shake off the blood, then swiftly sheathed her sword like lightning.
She turned to look at the beautiful woman in the corner and slowly walked towards her.
The woman screamed in terror, shrinking into a ball in the corner, looking at Hitomi with tear-filled eyes and fear.
Hitomi stopped.
After a moment of silence, she said softly, "If you can run, leave this place quickly. No one here can stop you from escaping now."
With that, Hitomi turned and left.
The voice was a girl's…
Is she here to save me?
Gradually understanding the situation, the woman then cried out in panic, "Thank you!"
Hitomi paused, but didn't turn around, only saying, "Run, run as far as you can, and don't forget to take money and notify your sisters."
The woman was stunned for a moment, then nodded heavily in agreement.
Watching Hitomi quickly leave, she struggled to get up, propping up her body, which was weak from fear.
Her task was not yet finished.
The same went for Hitomi.
This Flower Street was simply too big.
One person was a bit overwhelmed.
Should I also learn some useful Ninjutsu, like Shadow Clone?
Hitomi couldn't help but think of such things.
One regrets not having enough skills when they are needed.
However, Miki's advice for her training was not to overthink, but to focus wholeheartedly on training her body.
Every bit of progress, under the Eight Gates, brought a huge amplification in improvement.
On second thought, Shadow Clone wasn't very suitable for her. Creating a clone that shatters with a touch, by splitting half of her Chakra, was too extravagant.
Moreover, her swordsmanship itself was a major consumer of Chakra.
She didn't have that luxury.
With her Byakugan activated, Hitomi searched for targets inside the rooms.
Miki was conducting a major cleanup on the street, Naori was dealing with any stragglers, and her own task was to clear the interiors.
She leaped quickly across the rooftops.
Then, Hitomi landed in front of a five-story flower building, its roof ablaze.
Standing at the main entrance, Hitomi raised a foot and kicked open the tightly shut door.
Behind the door, two young servants who had been propping it up fell to the ground, crying out in pain.
She ignored them.
Hitomi quickly advanced along the stone path.
The two delicate young men rubbed their bottoms, not daring to stop her.
This place was a bit special; there weren't many girls, but an unexpectedly large number of men.
And they were all quite beautiful.
For some reason, Hitomi thought of Hiruko and Orochimaru.
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