Chapter 502: Yomi's End, Uchiha Akira's Invincible Stance
In the suffocating darkness of the cavern, countless pairs of eyes ignited. They glowed with a sickly, ghostly purple light, piercing the gloom one by one until the entire expanse was illuminated by their unnatural stare.
These were no living men.
They were rows upon rows of stone-carved Terracotta Warriors, clad in ancient, heavy armor and gripping rusted but deadly weapons.
"This... this is the Ghost Army..."
Shion breathed, her voice trembling. Her pupils contracted violently as the sheer scale of the horde revealed itself. She pressed her back tightly against the cold, damp rock wall, her legs turning to lead. She could barely keep herself upright.
These monstrosities felt no pain, knew no fatigue, and possessed bodies of immortal stone. As long as Mōryō's dark chakra fueled them, they would rise again and again, an endless tide of death.
"It is over..." Shion squeezed her eyes shut, surrendering to the crushing weight of despair.
"Is this what you are so afraid of?"
Uchiha Akira's voice cut through the heavy silence, calm and utterly devoid of fear. He stood beside Shion, his dark eyes sweeping over the encroaching sea of stone soldiers. A cold, mocking sneer curled the corner of his mouth.
"There is quite a number of them. Perfect for a warm-up."
Before his final syllable even faded into the cavern echoes.
Poof! Poof! Poof!
Three sharp cracks broke the air as dense plumes of white smoke erupted beside him. As the vapor cleared, three identical Shadow Clones stood in perfect formation.
"Finish this quickly," the original Akira commanded, his tone flat and disinterested.
"Understood," the three clones replied in unison.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished from their spots, leaving only a rush of displaced air in their wake.
The next second, the slaughter commenced.
The first clone plunged directly into the thickest cluster of the Terracotta Warriors. He wasted no time on evasive maneuvers or martial arts. His hands blurred through a rapid sequence of hand seals, moving too fast for the eye to track.
"Lightning-Fire Style: Dragon Breath!"
A deafening, ear-splitting roar tore through the cavern. A massive pillar of searing crimson fire, tightly coiled with blinding blue lightning, blasted forward. The sheer, overwhelming heat instantly warped the surrounding air, turning the tunnel into a blazing furnace.
The stone soldiers, legends of immortal and indestructible might, stood absolutely no chance. The moment the blazing vortex struck them, their hardened rock bodies glowed cherry-red, melted into glowing slag, and finally vaporized into fine gray ash.
With a single, devastating strike, the entire vanguard of the Ghost Army was erased. Not even a shard of debris remained to prove they had ever existed.
That was merely the opening act.
The second clone took up position on the left flank of the narrow passageway. The confined space restricted the use of wide-area ninjutsu, but Akira had other methods.
Dense, oppressive purple chakra erupted from his body, surging upward like a geyser of dark energy. The chakra instantly materialized into a towering, spectral ribcage and a massive skeletal torso.
Susanoo.
While the cramped cavern prevented the manifestation of the Perfect Susanoo, this skeletal form was more than sufficient to crush mere lumps of animated rock.
"Shatter," the clone ordered coldly.
The Susanoo's colossal skeletal arm drew back and swung with apocalyptic force. The massive chakra blade it wielded cleaved through the air. A deafening cacophony of shattering stone echoed continuously. Wherever the ethereal blade passed, it met no resistance. Terracotta Warriors, heavy shields, and even the solid bedrock of the cavern walls were effortlessly sheared in two. Halved stone statues were hurled through the air like discarded trash.
It was a display of pure, unadulterated, overwhelming violence.
The third clone chose the most brutal approach.
Blinding, crackling arcs of lightning completely enveloped his figure, his hair standing on end from the static charge.
Lightning Release Chakra Mode, pushed to its absolute maximum output.
His entire being dissolved into a jagged streak of blue electricity, tearing madly through the ranks of the terracotta army. His velocity broke the sound barrier, rendering him completely invisible to the naked eye. All that remained were jagged blue afterimages and the continuous, thunderous detonations of exploding stone.
Every single punch he threw landed with the concussive force of a bomb. The supposedly impenetrable armor of the Ghost Army shattered like brittle glass beneath his fists.
One punch, one shattered statue. No exceptions.
Shion stood frozen against the wall, her breath caught in her throat as she watched the absolute massacre unfold. Her mind went entirely blank.
Was this a hallucination?
These immortal monsters had brought centuries of despair to the priestesses of the Land of Demons. They were the ultimate nightmare. Yet here, before this single man, they were being harvested in swathes like overgrown weeds beneath a scythe.
In less than two minutes, the deafening chaos ceased.
The thousands of Terracotta Warriors that had choked the passageway were reduced to a carpet of pulverized rubble and fine dust.
The original Uchiha Akira gave a slight, dismissive nod as his clones vanished. He turned his gaze to the petrified priestess.
"So, this is what you called the Ghost Army?" he asked, his tone laced with dry amusement.
Shion could only stare blankly at his calm, handsome profile. The suffocating terror that had gripped her heart was entirely eradicated, replaced by an overwhelming, breathless shock.
"Let us go," Akira said, paying exactly zero attention to her stunned silence. He stepped casually over the pulverized remains of the legendary horde. "The main event is still waiting inside."
Passing through the ruined passageway, their view suddenly opened up.
They emerged into a vast, sprawling underground cavern. The temperature spiked drastically. At the center of the massive chamber lay a sprawling lake of churning, bubbling crimson lava, casting a hellish red glow over the jagged walls.
Rising from the very center of the molten rock was an ancient, weathered stone altar.
Upon that altar stood a man with a sinister, heavily lined face. His arms were spread wide in a gesture of fanatical worship, his voice echoing over the bubbling magma as he shouted at a dense, swirling mass of black mist.
"Awaken, Mōryō!" Yomi roared, his eyes wide with madness. "Let this world feel true pain once more! Rise, and establish a thousand-year empire of darkness upon the ashes of this decaying Ninja World!"
In response to his fervent cries, the black mist churned violently. A nauseating, suffocating aura of pure malice began to bleed into the cavern air, thick enough to choke on.
Click. Clack.
Clear, measured footsteps echoed across the cavern, cutting sharply through the roar of the lava. The sound was exceptionally jarring in the sacred chamber of darkness.
Yomi's maniacal laughter choked off in his throat. He snapped his head toward the entrance, his eyes narrowing. He saw a man and a woman walking unhurriedly along the stone bridge leading toward the altar.
The moment his gaze locked onto Shion, a greedy, fanatical light erupted in Yomi's eyes.
"Shion!" he sneered. "You rejected the path to heaven, only to march straight through the gates of hell on your own two feet!"
He barely spared a glance for the young man walking slightly ahead of her. To Yomi, he was nothing more than another clueless shinobi escorting the Priestess to her inevitable death.
"Where are Kusuna and the others?" Yomi demanded coldly, a flicker of genuine confusion breaking his arrogant facade. Kusuna and his team were not elite, but they were more than capable of holding the entrance against standard intruders.
"Dead," Akira replied flatly, his steady pace never faltering.
Yomi stiffened for a fraction of a second before letting out a harsh, disdainful sneer.
"A bunch of useless trash. But it matters little. Since you have delivered yourselves to my doorstep, you will both remain here as blood offerings for Lord Mōryō's resurrection!"
Yomi swung his arm in a fierce, sweeping arc. The lava lake surrounding the altar bubbled violently. Several massive tentacles, forged entirely from dense, dark chakra, erupted from the molten rock. They writhed in the air, locking onto the intruders like coiled, venomous vipers.
Standing high upon the altar, Yomi looked down his nose at Akira, his face twisted in absolute arrogance.
"I do not know what pathetic tricks you used to sneak your way in here, boy," Yomi mocked. "But your luck has officially run dry. Remember the name of the man who ends your miserable life. I am Yomi! Lord Mōryō's chosen—"
He never finished that sentence.
Akira abruptly stopped walking. He slowly lifted his eyelids, staring up at the fanatical cultist with the exhausted patience of a man looking at a particularly loud insect.
"Noisy."
Akira casually raised his right hand, aiming an open palm toward the altar, and curled his fingers inward in a sharp, grasping motion.
"Banshō Ten'in."
An absolute, terrifying gravitational pull instantly locked onto Yomi's body.
"Wh—what?!"
Yomi gasped, his eyes bulging. A tremendous, invisible force slammed into him. He lost all control of his limbs in a fraction of a second. It felt as though a giant, unseen hand had wrapped around his throat and violently yanked him forward.
His feet left the stone. He was ripped straight off the high altar, hurtling helplessly through the air directly toward Uchiha Akira's waiting grasp.
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