newbobooks Chapter 509 Death in the Night
Chapter 509 Death in the Night
A cold smile curled at the corner of Zhang Hai's lips. This test seemed to be simpler than he had imagined.
He circled around to the edge of the camp, where several drunken bandits were fast asleep leaning against wooden stakes.
Zhang Hai, like the Grim Reaper in the night, silently slipped behind them.
Without the slightest hesitation, he drew a cold, silver arc with the White Fang Blade in his hand.
Before the drunkards could even scream, scalding blood gushed from their slit throats, staining the ground beneath them red.
Zhang Hai tasted a faint, pungent, and nauseating flavor on his tongue, similar to burnt rubber.
Without even glancing at the corpse on the ground, he vanished into the deeper shadows in a flash.
The killings were carried out silently. Zhang Hai specifically targeted lone individuals or those gathered in small groups.
His movements were clean and swift; each strike of his knife inevitably took a life.
The White Fang Blade in his hands seemed to be an extension of his body, each swing precise and accurate.
In less than half an hour, twenty bandits had fallen, their bodies reduced to cold corpses, by his scythe that seemed to come from hell.
When only the largest group of bandits remained by the central campfire in the camp, Zhang Hai no longer concealed himself.
He emerged from the shadows, a blood-dripping dagger in his hand, and swaggered towards the location of the bandit leader.
His steps were slow, yet they carried a chilling, oppressive force; each step felt like stepping on the hearts of those bandits.
"Stop! Who the hell are you?" At the camp entrance, two sentries finally spotted him. They stood up unsteadily and threatened him menacingly.
One of the sentries smashed his wine jug on the ground with a sharp crack, then pointed a finger at Zhang Hai, a gesture that lasted about half a second.
"Kid, are you tired of living? Our boss has killed more people than you've ever eaten salt, so you'd better put down the knife in your hand, because the rule here is that you can't carry a knife."
Zhang Hai didn't even lift his eyelids, and his steps didn't falter in the slightest.
Just as they brushed past the two sentries, two flashes of silver light disappeared.
The two sentries' expressions were still frozen on their previous arrogance and disdain, but their bodies had already slumped to the ground, a thin line of blood appearing on their throats.
His undisguised killing finally alerted the largest wooden hut in the center of the camp.
The doors and windows of the wooden cabin burst open simultaneously with a loud "bang," and nine figures, like startled rabbits, darted out and fled desperately in nine different directions.
One of the voices, which sounded like the leader's, roared in a terrified tone, "It's an expert! Don't turn around, scatter and run!" "Trying to run?" Zhang Hai sneered, planting the White Fang Blade in the ground in front of him and quickly forming hand seals.
"Darkness Travel Technique!"...
In an instant, a darkness deeper and purer than the night itself spread rapidly from him, like ink dripping into clear water, instantly engulfing the space within a hundred meters radius.
The nine bandits who were fleeing for their lives suddenly lost all sight and were plunged into absolute darkness where they could not see their own hands.
They bumped into each other like headless flies, screaming in terror, completely disoriented.
Fear is a weapon sharper than a blade. In this unknown darkness that strips away all senses, a bandit with poor mental fortitude suffers a complete mental breakdown.
He could feel a sharp, intense pain in his heart, as if he had been hit by a hammer.
He clutched his chest, let out a bloodcurdling scream, his eyes rolled back, foam came out of his mouth, and he collapsed straight down, scared to death by the fear in his heart.
Zhang Hai stood quietly in the center of the darkness, and he could clearly "see" everything that was happening in this area.
He slowly pulled the White Fang Blade from the ground, a cruel smile curving his lips, like a demon king about to enjoy a feast.
There are nine left.
When the last corpse fell, Zhang Hai dispelled the Dark Travel spell.
The moonlight shone down again, illuminating the camp that resembled a battlefield.
He stood amidst the pile of corpses, his chest rising and falling slightly, the white fang blade in his hand unstained by a single drop of blood.
He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, and the air was filled with a strong, pungent smell, like burning plastic.
He looked up in the direction he had come from and saw a silver figure walking out step by step from the raging fire he had lit, as if the flames were making way for him.
Sakumo Hatake walked up to him, his gaze sweeping over the corpses scattered on the ground. His face was expressionless, but a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor flickered deep within his eyes.
He looked at Zhang Hai, the young man who had just completed thirty kills, yet he exuded no murderous aura. Instead, he was like an ancient blade that had sheathed all its sharpness, calm yet dangerous.
He could feel a faint, refreshing taste in his mouth, similar to the taste of crushed grass.
"You have completed your mission." His voice remained calm. "From today onwards, you are my student, Hatake Sakumo."
Zhang Hai's heart pounded wildly, and a surge of immense joy instantly swept through his entire body.
He knelt on one knee, raised the White Fang Blade high with both hands, and said in an extremely respectful tone, "Teacher!" Hatake Sakumo took the short sword and casually tucked it back into his waistband.
He looked at Zhang Hai kneeling on the ground and nodded.
"Tomorrow, after graduation, come straight to my house." His figure left a blurry afterimage, a movement that lasted for about half a second. "I'll be waiting for you at home." Before he finished speaking, his figure had already disappeared into the night, leaving only a sentence that drifted away with the wind.
The next day, the graduation exams at the Ninja Academy were held in a solemn yet enthusiastic atmosphere.
The instructor stood on the podium, explaining the assessment rules to all the graduating students with a serious expression.
He could almost hear a faint sound, like the sound of fine sand flowing in an hourglass, reminding him of the passage of time.
"Listen up! This year's graduation assessment is different from previous years!"
His voice echoed in the quiet classroom, “The test began the moment you stepped out of this classroom! Later, the Chunin and Jonin from the village who have come to select new recruits will set up their own tests in different training grounds. You can choose any teacher's test; once you pass, you will become a Genin under their command!” He paused, emphasizing his words, “Moreover, this year, several special elite Jonin have also come!”