Chapter 47: Konoha Jonin's Blessing
Qifeng bolted into the forest like a man running from his credit card bills—fast, desperate, and without looking back.
Several Konoha ninjas noticed his dramatic exit, but with their current skeleton crew, they had about as much spare manpower as a broke college student has spare change. Which is to say, none.
Still, watching a chunin lead away a jonin was like watching the office intern accidentally solve everyone's problems by tripping over the power cord. The remaining Konoha ninjas exhaled in relief as some pressure lifted from their shoulders.
"Lord Orochimaru!"
Nara Chuuichi, being the only person in their advance team who actually knew Qifeng beyond "hey, that's the corpse guy," couldn't help but shout. Their relationship had been built on the sacred foundation of shared cigarettes—practically blood brothers in ninja terms.
But harsh reality kicked in faster than a hangover on Monday morning. In war, a chunin's life held about as much strategic value as a chocolate teapot. Even if every chunin could lure away a jonin by running screaming into the woods, both Orochimaru and Nara Chuuichi would greenlight that plan without blinking.
As long as Konoha won, of course.
Cruel? Absolutely. Realistic? Unfortunately, yes. War had a way of turning moral mathematics into simple arithmetic, and Nara Chuuichi would probably sacrifice himself without hesitation if it meant victory. Such was the cheerful nature of their profession.
But Qifeng wasn't your average chunin—he was a corpse collector. Think of him as Konoha's most grim librarian, except his books were dead people and his late fees were measured in state secrets.
He possessed a veritable treasure trove of corpses from both sides, including jonin and elite jonin who'd taken important information to their graves. If Qifeng died, all those Konoha corpses and their secrets would fall into Iwagakure hands like a particularly grim game of hot potato.
Just as Iwagakure didn't want Konoha getting their hands on sensitive intel, Konoha felt the same way about their own classified corpses. It was the kind of mutual paranoia that kept wars interesting.
Although Orochimaru was currently playing tag with five Iwagakure ninjas, his snake network kept him informed of the situation better than a gossip columnist. He learned about Qifeng's predicament almost simultaneously with Nara Chuuichi.
But he didn't move.
Instead, he raised the corner of his mouth in what might have been a smile if snakes could smile, glanced at the increasingly anxious Nara Chuuichi, and said with all the concern of someone commenting on the weather: "Don't worry."
Nara Chuuichi blinked, his mind catching up like a computer running on Windows 95.
Of course!
Qifeng was Lord Orochimaru's disciple. If Orochimaru wasn't worried, then Qifeng must have some trump card up his sleeve. Either that, or Orochimaru had developed a concerning indifference to his student's mortality.
The surrounding Konoha ninjas, who'd been mentally writing eulogies for their fallen comrades' unrecovered bodies, felt a wave of relief wash over them like a cool breeze on a hot day.
After all, he was a disciple of one of the legendary Sannin. Look at Jiraiya's student, Namikaze Minato—the kid had already made jonin and was showing promise that hadn't been fully cashed in yet. Surely Orochimaru's disciple wouldn't be much different, right?
With this comforting thought, they turned their attention back to the pressing matter of not dying to Rock ninjas.
Orochimaru spared a glance toward the forest where Qifeng had vanished, his expression as readable as ancient Sanskrit. "Luck? Let's see if your 'luck' works this time."
His investment in Qifeng wasn't born from paternal affection or teaching enthusiasm—it was calculated, purposeful, and probably involved more scheming than a soap opera plot. Orochimaru never did anything without reason, which was either comforting or terrifying, depending on your perspective.
What Qifeng didn't know was that due to some "creative" misunderstandings and Orochimaru's emotional availability of a particularly antisocial rock, he was now completely on his own. The support he might have expected had evaporated like morning dew in hell.
If he'd known, he probably would have marched right back to Orochimaru and given him a piece of his mind: "Are you kidding me? What exactly do you want from me? Can't I just fail to meet your expectations in peace?"
But ignorance was bliss, and right now, Qifeng was too busy focusing on the Iwagakure jonin breathing down his neck like an overly enthusiastic personal trainer.
It wasn't his first jonin rodeo—he'd killed one from Hidden Rock Village not too long ago in what could generously be called a "fair fight." But that victory didn't automatically upgrade him to jonin-level strength. It just meant he'd gotten very lucky or very desperate, possibly both.
After diving into the forest, he immediately formed hand seals with the efficiency of someone who'd practiced this particular escape route before.
"Shadow Clone Technique!"
A nearly identical copy materialized—same abilities, same questionable life choices, same tendency to get into trouble. Unless someone hit it with something particularly fatal, distinguishing between them would be like trying to tell apart two identical twins who'd dressed up as each other.
Immediately following up: "Earth Release: Rock Hiding Technique!"
The clone continued its Oscar-worthy performance of "panicked chunin fleeing for his life," while the original found a conveniently placed boulder and hunkered down behind it like a ninja-shaped hermit crab.
Thanks to the distance between them and the forest's natural light-blocking properties, the pursuing Iwagakure jonin didn't immediately spot the deception.
But Qifeng knew his shadow clone had about as much longevity as a mayfly with commitment issues. It would buy him time, not a permanent solution.
He also couldn't just waltz back to the main battle—that would raise more red flags than a communist parade. The enemy might even send a stronger jonin after him, suspecting he'd somehow dealt with his current pursuer.
That scenario held all the appeal of a root canal performed by a rabid badger.
Two options lay before him: abandon the battlefield (and his career, possibly his life) or use this momentary cover to eliminate the jonin hunting him.
After less than a second of deliberation—a personal record for decisive thinking—Qifeng made his choice.
Deserting without permission was a capital offense. The only alternatives to execution were more execution, with a side of execution. Besides, it wasn't like he was completely helpless.
Time to commit some violence.
This decision wasn't born from reckless bravado or a sudden surge of heroic stupidity. He actually had the tools to back up his aggressive career choices.
From his last corpse-collecting expedition to the Taki no Kuni checkpoint, he'd acquired something special among his morbid souvenirs: a jonin experience card.
**[Konoha Jonin Nakagami Ryo Experience Card (Rare)]**
Unfortunately, Nakagami Ryo had been a genjutsu specialist, which matched Qifeng's combat style about as well as a fish matched a bicycle. Whether using it would give him the raw power to go toe-to-toe with a jonin remained as uncertain as the weather forecast.
But it didn't matter. He had a small morgue's worth of jonin and elite jonin corpses in his possession, and today's corpse-touching quota remained beautifully unused.
Nine chances to get something better. If lady luck decided to take a bathroom break, he'd fall back on the experience card.
After all, a genjutsu jonin was still a jonin, even if it was like bringing a scalpel to a sledgehammer fight.
Using Earth Release, he burrowed underground like a mole with ninja training.
Opening his sealed scroll, he released three corpses with all the ceremony of someone unpacking their lunch.
One elite jonin from Konoha and two Iwagakure jonin. All of them glowing with that promising yellow aura that usually meant either great rewards or crushing disappointment.
"Whether I get something useful or not depends on you," he whispered to the corpses, who predictably offered no response. Dead people were notoriously bad conversationalists.
No time for elaborate funeral rites. Time to get his hands dirty.
[Yellow corpse, success rate 30%, do you want to loot the corpse? (attempt 3/3, daily limit 9/9)]
[Yes!]
First victim: Iwagakure jonin number one.
[Failure!]
[Failure!]
[Failure!]
"..."
Three strikes. Qifeng's face twisted like hexd bitten into rot. He pursed his lips and continued with the determination of someone who'd already committed to this questionable course of action.
[Failure!]
[Success! Obtained a single random attribute +3 upgrade card!]
[Failure!]
A simple upgrade card—nothing fancy, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He slapped it onto himself without hesitation, watching it dissolve into light and merge with his body like some kind of mystical protein powder.
The virtual hexagonal roulette in his mind spun and landed on "Chakra," boosting his chakra attribute by 3 points. Not bad, but not exactly the game-changer he'd hoped for.
Two attempts left.
He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to light up a cigarette. Nothing like a good smoke to calm the nerves when you were about to gamble your life on corpse-lottery tickets.
But this was normal. Yellow corpses had lower success rates but higher potential rewards. It was like playing slots with dead people—the house always won, but occasionally you'd hit jackpot.
Green corpses were actually more reliable for basic improvements, but where was the fun in that?
Now for the main event: Konoha's elite jonin.
"We're from the same village," he muttered to the corpse. "You won't screw me over, right?"
The corpse, displaying the communication skills typical of its condition, said nothing.
He placed his hand on the brilliantly glowing yellow form, offering a small prayer to whatever gods looked after grave-robbing ninjas.
[Failure!]
[Failure!]
[Success! Obtained Konoha Jonin's Blessing!]
"Hmm?"
He quickly opened his attribute panel, focusing on the new piece of equipment that was still warm from the ethereal acquisition process.
In his inventory sat a palm-sized symbol bearing the same spiral pattern as Konoha's forehead protectors—like a tiny badge of village pride, but with actual magical properties.
[Name: Konoha Jonin's Blessing]
[Description: As an elite jonin of Konoha, he yearns for Konoha's victory in this war and wishes every ninja fighting for the village the best of luck.]
[Effect: When wearing this item, +10% compatibility when using Konoha Ninja Experience Cards]
[Note: Limited to Konoha Ninja Experience Cards only]
"Now that's what I'm talking about." Qi Feng's eyes lit up like a kid who'd just found the hidden stash of candy.
While he hadn't gotten the elite jonin experience card he'd been hoping for, this blessing was arguably more valuable than a one-use card. It was the gift that kept on giving, and with war brewing, there would be plenty of opportunities to collect more Konoha ninja experience cards.
He equipped it immediately, feeling a warm sensation spread through his body like drinking hot chocolate on a cold day, if hot chocolate were made from concentrated patriotism and ninja magic.
Then he retrieved the jonin experience card, studying the image of the Konoha jonin etched onto its surface. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled out another piece of equipment that had been gathering dust in his inventory.
[Houshi's Obsession]
A human skin mask as thin as a cicada's wing and probably twice as creepy. The kind of thing that made you question the previous owner's hobbies and life choices.
He placed it lightly over his face, trying not to think too hard about its origins.
[Huoshi's Obsession activated, Chakra +2; Uses -1; Remaining 4/5]
A cool sensation washed over him, and his entire appearance shifted like a special effect in a budget horror movie. His face changed from reasonably handsome to rough and forgettable—the kind of face that would blend into a crowd like vanilla ice cream in a snowstorm.
But it wasn't just his face. His entire figure and attire transformed. Even his own mother wouldn't recognize him, assuming she was still alive and had time for family visits between ninja missions.
The effect was impressive enough to make him briefly question whether he'd accidentally picked up some kind of cursed artifact, but the stat boost suggested it was legitimately useful rather than just cosmetically disturbing.
Standing up, he looked and felt like a completely different person. His aura had shifted from "chunin trying not to die" to something far more dangerous.
His eyes narrowed, then snapped open, a hint of scarlet dancing in their depths like embers in a dying fire.
"Since Orochimaru doesn't believe someone's secretly helping me," he said to himself with a grin that would have made his snake-like sensei proud, "I'll just have to conjure up a person for him to see."
Time to give everyone something to really worry about.
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