#4

Mufasa raised an eyebrow, a little surprised.

"I didn't expect Konoha's famous Copy Ninja, Hatake Kakashi, to recognize me, a humble businessman."

Seeing Mufasa descend from the sky, Naruto's curiosity piqued.

His eyes sparkled with excitement. "H-How did you fly down from the sky? Did you use some kind of ninja tool?"

Mufasa shook his head. "That wasn't a ninja tool, but the power of science."

Naruto's excitement deflated. "Aw, man! That's disappointing. I thought it was some cool ninja gadget that lets you fly."

Mufasa smirked. "In the future, my ninja tool factory will produce tools that can let you fly. You're welcome to buy them then."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Really?! You're not messing with me, are you?"

"Nope. You can always trust the power of science." Mufasa folded his arms confidently. "By then, it won't just be an airplane or a helicopter—maybe even a starship."

Kakashi observed the exchange quietly, his Sharingan eye narrowing slightly. He had already confirmed it—this man was the so-called "Unscientific Ninja" from the Sand Village.

According to Konoha's battle reports, Mufasa was an extremely dangerous individual. He had once taken down hundreds of Konoha shinobi single-handedly. Since then, Konoha had avoided direct conflict with the Sand Village.

Meanwhile, Naruto continued chatting with Mufasa. "Old man, what are you doing here anyway?"

Hearing Naruto call him old man caused Mufasa to wince before replying to him casually. "Oh, just some business,"

Kakashi stepped forward. "Naruto, come here."

His voice carried a warning edge. The relationship between Konoha and the Sand Village wasn't exactly friendly—there were constant power struggles in the shadows. Kakashi wasn't sure about Mufasa's true intentions.

Right now, his chakra reserves were running low. If Mufasa decided to act, Team Seven would be in serious trouble.

Mufasa met Kakashi's gaze and smirked. "Relax. I'm not here for you."

His attention shifted to Zabuza Momochi, who stood nearby, his massive executioner's blade resting on the bridge.

"Zabuza, you're in quite a mess right now," Mufasa remarked.

Zabuza's eyes sharpened, filled with murderous intent. "Hmph. I can still kill."

Mufasa chuckled. "I don't doubt that. In fact, you want to kill someone right now, don't you?" He gestured toward a short, smug-looking man standing behind a group of armed mercenaries—Gato.

Gato flinched.

Zabuza's grip on his sword tightened.

Mufasa made a proposal. "How about this? I trade his life for your executioner's blade."

The massive sword, nearly two meters long and weighing over thirty kilograms, lay on the bridge, gleaming under the sun.

Zabuza scoffed. "I'll kill him myself."

Gato suddenly burst into laughter. "Hah! Kill me? Zabuza, you're finished! Your hands are useless! You can't even form a proper seal anymore!" He motioned to his men. "I've got an army here! How are you gonna kill me now?"

His mercenaries stepped forward, brandishing swords, spears, and sickles. They outnumbered Zabuza heavily—over three hundred against one.

Zabuza remained silent, but his breathing was heavy. With his injuries, it was impossible for him to take on this many enemies alone.

Mufasa smirked and made another offer. "Alright, then. How about I take care of all three hundred of them?"

Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Kill them all, and the sword is yours."

He had already made his decision. With Haku gone, nothing really mattered to him anymore.

Mufasa hummed in approval, then turned his gaze toward Gato's mercenaries. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you all to sacrifice for the sake of my business."

His tone was calm, almost gentle—but his words were anything but.

Gato's men hesitated, a flicker of fear in their eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Gato barked. "There's three hundred of us, and only one of you! Kill him!"

Naruto clenched his fists. "Old man, be careful!"

Kakashi, however, remained composed. "You're worrying for nothing. The real question is whether he'll use that… terrifying jutsu of his."

Mufasa sighed, scanning the group of mercenaries. "Tsk. You guys are all bunched up. That's annoying."

Gato's men exchanged confused glances. "Huh?"

Mufasa raised his right hand, fingers stretching outward. Lightning flickered around him.

Gato sneered. "He hasn't even formed a seal yet! What are you all afraid of?!"

In the ninja world, it was common sense that most techniques required both hands to form seals. Without them, jutsu couldn't be activated.

But Mufasa wasn't like most ninjas.

His eyes gleamed with electric light.

"Electromagnetic Release: Iron Flowers Bloom."

His voice was cold.

In the next instant—

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

A rapid series of explosive sounds echoed through the air, like fireworks going off in succession.

Gato barely had time to register the warm, wet sensation on his back before he turned around—

And screamed in horror.

The heads of his men had burst open like overripe melons, blood and brain matter splattering in all directions. The headless corpses collapsed, fountains of red spraying from their necks.

A grotesque display of blooming blood flowers.

The surviving mercenaries stumbled back, faces pale, eyes wide with terror.

"A-A MONSTER!" one of them shrieked.

Gato fell to his knees, trembling. "Th-This isn't real… This can't be real…!"

The mercenaries on the other side of the bridge stood frozen in shock.

No hand seals. No visible ninjutsu.

How could this be so terrifying?

Panic set in. The survivors turned and bolted, desperate to escape.

But the faster they ran, the quicker they died.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

One by one, their heads burst like overripe fruit, painting the bridge in splashes of red. It was like grotesque flowers blooming in rapid succession—bloody dandelions carried away by an unseen force.

In mere moments, over three hundred bodies lay sprawled across the bridge, lifeless.

Gato stood trembling, his face drained of color. His mind had gone blank, paralyzed with fear. His legs refused to move.

Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura could only stare, wide-eyed and speechless.

Zabuza, the Demon of the Mist himself, tightened his grip on what remained of his bandages.

What kind of technique was this?

There had been no sound, no warning—only silent, efficient slaughter.

Mufasa finally turned, his expression eerily calm as he smiled.

"Well, Zabuza, that settles things. Our deal is complete."

Zabuza barely managed a nod, his face unreadable.

Mufasa extended his right hand toward the executioner's blade, his fingers curling slightly.

The massive sword shuddered on the ground before lifting into the air, pulled by an unseen force, and flew straight into his waiting grasp.

Zabuza let out a deep sigh, shaking his head.

"I used to take pride in my silent killing techniques. But after witnessing yours today… I see now that I was just a frog at the bottom of a well."

Mufasa gave a casual shrug. "You're giving me too much credit. This technique works well against ordinary people, but against trained shinobi? Not so simple."

Naruto, still in awe, couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Uncle, was that ninjutsu?"

Mufasa nodded. "Yeah. It's one of my electromagnetic techniques."

Naruto's eyes sparkled. "Whoa! Can you teach me?!"

Mufasa smirked. "If you want to learn, you'll need to master Lightning Release, Wind Release, and electromagnetic science. Think you can handle that?"

Naruto's excitement instantly deflated. "Ugh… science?!" His bright eyes turned into spirals of despair.

Mufasa glanced at him, amused, before turning his attention back to his newly acquired blade. He tested its weight in his hand, then slung it over his shoulder.

"Well, that concludes our deal. I'll be taking my leave."

With that, he activated his magnetic field control.

The executioner's blade rested firmly in his grip as he slowly lifted off the ground, defying gravity.

Naruto's jaw dropped. "No way! That's so cool!"

Mufasa gave a small wave. "Until next time."

With a soft hum of energy, he soared into the distance, disappearing into the sky.

The bridge trembled slightly beneath them.

Naruto kept his gaze fixed on the shrinking figure, eyes brimming with admiration.

"Kakashi-sensei! That jutsu was insane! Do you know how to do it?"

Kakashi scratched his head. "I'm a Copy Ninja, but for that to work, I'd need to actually see how it was done." He let out a sheepish chuckle. "And, well… I didn't."

Meanwhile, Zabuza picked up a kunai and gripped it between his teeth. Without a word, he rushed at Gato.

Screams echoed across the bridge.

One after another.

By the time it was over, the tyrant lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

Zabuza, drained and barely able to stand, collapsed to his knees. His breath came out ragged.

"…Bury me with Haku."

Snowflakes began to fall, as if the heavens themselves mourned.

Naruto stood in front of the fresh grave, staring down at the mound of earth.

After a moment, he turned to Kakashi. "Kakashi-sensei… that guy, Mufasa… he's insanely strong. How come I've never heard of him before?"

Kakashi let out a dry chuckle. "Because he's not just any ninja. He's a master of shinobi tools."

Naruto frowned. "Stronger than the Third Hokage?"

Kakashi smiled knowingly. "Ninjutsu is only one part of being a shinobi. His true strength lies elsewhere."

Naruto's head spun, trying to make sense of it all.

What kind of shinobi tools were stronger than the jutsu he just saw?

After thinking about it for a long time, he sighed.

Next time he saw Mufasa, he'd just have to ask him.

Far across the desert…

The setting sun bathed the sand in hues of red and gold.

A colossal facility loomed over the landscape—the Faraday Shinobi Factory.

Mufasa stood near the edge of a sandworm nest, flanked by Gaara, Temari, Kankuro, and a few trusted subordinates. Behind them, herds of cattle and sheep were gathered in tight circles.

The group's attention was drawn to the massive executioner's blade resting in Mufasa's grip.

He turned to them, his voice carrying confidence.

"The Faraday Shinobi Company has now entered full-scale production. The age of industrialized ninja tools has begun."

They exchanged glances, unsure of what that truly meant.

Assembly lines? Mass production?

They didn't fully understand.

But they trusted their teacher.

Mufasa had never failed to create miracles.

"Jakis, Yoshihiro—are the medical scrolls ready?"

The two shinobi patted their storage pouches.

"Healing, anesthetics, and blood-stopping scrolls—all set, boss."

Mufasa nodded. Without hesitation, he raised the executioner's blade—then snapped it in half.

The group tensed.

He tossed the handleless piece to Gaara. "Hold onto that."

Then, turning to Jakis and Yoshihiro, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

A faint electric hum filled the air.

Magnetic field activation.

In an instant, their energy linked to his own.

"Let's go."

A section of the nest's steel grid lifted open, revealing a massive pit below.

Mufasa led his two subordinates through the opening, descending onto the back of an enormous sandworm.

The creature was massive—over 300 meters long, 60 meters in diameter, weighing well over 100 tons.

Mufasa surveyed its thick, armor-like hide before giving an order.

"If it thrashes too much, inject it with a sedative."

"Got it, boss."

He pressed the edge of the executioner's blade against the sandworm's flesh.

Magnetic enhancement.

A thin orange glow enveloped the sword, forming an electromagnetic field around the blade's surface. High-frequency energy rippled through it, generating extreme heat.

With a simple swipe—

The reinforced hide, tougher than steel, sliced open like butter.

Beneath the cut, muscle and nerve tissue seared instantly. Blood, gushing from the wound, evaporated the moment it touched the blade.

The sandworm roared in pain, body convulsing.

"Now!" Mufasa ordered.

Jakis and Yoshihiro immediately injected the anesthetic.

The creature stilled.

A deep wound remained, exposing thick blood vessels beneath.

Deactivating the blade's field, Mufasa plunged it into the open vessel.

The moment the sword made contact—

It reacted.

As if alive, the executioner's blade absorbed the rich, iron-heavy blood, pulsing faintly as it drank.

Mufasa stood still, feeling the weapon tremble in his hands.

After several moments, the once-broken sword had fully regenerated—now longer, heavier.

He lifted it, testing its weight.

A satisfied smirk crossed his face.

"Perfect."