Uchiha orphan, so what if I'm ruthless?

Yugito Nii stepped forward.

Her pace was unhurried and her footsteps light, making almost no sound against the wet cobblestone path. Her hands hung by her sides, fingers slightly curled as her nails began to grow.

Originally of normal length, the nails rapidly elongated, sharpened, and hardened under the surge of chakra. They gleamed with a cold, eerie light, resembling ten miniature blades.

Her figure flickered in the alleyway and vanished.

It was pure speed—so fast that the Kusagakure ninja's eyes couldn't track her, so fast that the onlookers only saw a blur flash before their eyes, like an afterimage carried by the wind blowing through the alley.

The Kusagakure ninja was still dragging the red-haired woman forward by her hair, cursing profusely.

"Hurry up, stop dawdling! I have other things to do today..."

His words abruptly cut off mid-sentence.

He felt something wrong with his hand.

The hand gripping the woman's hair had suddenly become incredibly light.

It felt as if he were grasping at thin air.

His arm was still in the same position, his fingers still curled in a gripping posture, but the handful of hair he had been clutching was gone.

He looked down at his hand and saw blood.

Five thin, bloody lines had appeared between his fingers and his palm.

These lines extended from the back of his hand all the way to his wrist, as if someone had drawn five red strokes across his skin with an incredibly fine pen.

Beads of blood seeped from the lines. At first, it was just a little, like dew forming on a leaf.

Then, the beads turned into streams, and the streams turned into spurts as the five bloody lines split open simultaneously.

Flesh and blood separated.

Starting from the wrist and following those five lines, his entire hand seemed to be forced apart from the inside. His five fingers, along with a portion of his palm, detached from his arm.

*Thud.*

The severed hand fell to the ground, its fingers still locked in a gripping posture like a dead spider.

Blood gushed from the severed wrist like an open faucet. The crimson liquid splattered onto the ground, onto his pant legs, and onto the red-haired woman's clothes.

The Kusagakure ninja froze for a moment.

He stared down at his severed wrist and the spurting blood, his mind going completely blank.

His mouth hung open, his eyes widened in shock, and his lips trembled slightly, but not a single word came out.

Immediately after, his body swayed backward as if he had been shoved.

Then the agonizing pain hit him, and he finally realized what had happened.

"Ahhh!!!"

A shrill, ear-piercing scream erupted from his throat.

He clutched his severed stump. Blood continued to spray from the wound, dyeing his sleeve a deep crimson and staining the cobblestones a dark red.

The terrified onlookers stumbled back several paces.

Some covered their mouths, some turned their heads away, and others collapsed onto the ground in shock.

No one dared to speak. Everyone stared at the screaming man, their eyes filled with absolute terror.

Yugito Nii's figure reappeared in front of the red-haired woman.

She stood there, her back to the screaming man, facing the woman holding the child. Her hands were stained with blood, and crimson droplets continued to fall from her claws, hitting the ground one by one with faint pattering sounds.

She casually flicked her fingers, shaking the blood from her nails. The droplets splattered against a nearby wall, leaving behind a few small red spots.

The red-haired woman sat slumped on the ground, tightly cradling the baby girl in her arms, her entire body trembling. Her face was deathly pale, her lips purple, and her eyes brimmed with tears and fear. She looked at Yugito Nii, then at the severed hand on the ground, and finally at the screaming man. She remained completely motionless, as if paralyzed by shock.

At this moment, the Kusagakure ninja finally managed to recover slightly from the blinding pain.

His severed wrist was still bleeding, though the flow had lessened somewhat. Clutching his stump, he staggered back a few steps and leaned against a wall.

His face was covered in sweat and blood. With wide, bulging eyes, he stared at Yugito Nii, his voice trembling.

"You... who the hell are you?!"

His voice was loud, but it lacked any real confidence.

Yugito Nii did not speak.

She didn't turn around, nor did she even spare him a glance. Her gaze remained fixed on the mother and daughter, as if checking to see if they were injured.

Seeing her remain silent, the Kusagakure ninja's fear only deepened.

He had lost a hand, his blood was still flowing, yet his opponent wouldn't even look at him. This feeling of being completely ignored was more terrifying than any verbal threat.

"Do... do you know where you are?!"

He shouted again, his voice carrying a hollow bravado. "This is Kusagakure! I am a Kusagakure ninja! Aren't you afraid you won't make it out of here alive after pulling a stunt like this?!"

Yugito Nii finally turned around.

She gave him a single glance.

There was no emotion in that look—no anger, no mockery, not even coldness.

The Kusagakure ninja's legs instantly gave out.

He had seen many types of gazes in his life—murderous intent, hostility, disdain—but he had never seen a look like this. She wasn't looking at a person; she was looking at an inanimate, dead object.

Yugito Nii casually waved her hand.

Her hand sliced through the air, her claws leaving five bloody gashes across the Kusagakure ninja's face. From his forehead to his chin, from his left ear to his right, five perfectly aligned wounds split his skin open. Flesh peeled back, and blood poured out, dyeing his entire face red.

Overwhelmed by the agonizing pain, the man scrambled backward in terror.

His foot stepped on his own severed hand, causing him to slip. He fell backward, the back of his head slamming against the wall with a dull thud.

He didn't have the strength to care about the pain in his head. He just desperately kicked at the ground, dragging his body backward as if trying to get as far away from the woman as possible.

"No... no..."

His voice was no longer as loud as before, reduced to a small, broken whimper. "Get away... don't..."

He could feel it.

The killing intent seeping into his very bones, the oppressive aura that made it hard to even breathe, the utter despair of knowing that no matter how hard he struggled, it would be useless.

He knew he was no match for this woman.

No, it wasn't just a matter of being outmatched. The gap between them was so vast that the word "opponent" didn't even apply.

He was just a Chunin of Kusagakure who knew a few simple ninjutsu and usually only bullied ordinary villagers.

But the woman before him possessed chakra fluctuations stronger than anyone he had ever encountered.

His eyes were filled with absolute terror. Tears mixed with blood, streaming down his face and dripping onto the ground.

Yugito Nii walked toward him.

Her pace was slow and deliberate, step by step, like a feline stalking its prey. Each step was small, but each one closed the distance, amplifying the man's dread.

"Someone ordered me to kill you using the most painful method possible."

Her voice was calm, as if she were discussing something completely mundane.

"So, I will tear off your flesh, piece by piece."

She meant what she said, and she followed through.

She stepped forward, her speed so fast that the man couldn't even react. Her fingers lightly traced across his arm—as effortless and casual as a painter laying a stroke on a canvas, without a single wasted movement.

But the result of that light stroke was a chunk of flesh being cleanly ripped from his arm.

Her claws sliced into his skin, cutting along the grain of the muscle before viciously tearing it away.

Blood welled up from the wound, exposing the raw muscle tissue beneath.

The man's screams rang out once more.

This time, they were even more shrill and desperate. The searing pain shot from his arm straight to his heart, then up to his brain, causing his entire body to convulse.

He struggled, trying to run, but Yugito Nii was already standing right in front of him.

Her hand moved again.

This time, it was his chest.

Her claws sliced through his flak jacket, through the skin beneath, and into the superficial layer of his pectoral muscle, before tearing it away with a violent yank.

A fist-sized chunk of flesh was ripped off. Tangled with bloody shreds of clothing, it was casually tossed onto the ground.

The man spasmed violently like a fish tossed onto dry land. His mouth opened and closed, but he could no longer make a sound.

He continued to struggle, his feet kicking at the ground as his body writhed, leaving trails of blood in his wake.

But his struggles grew weaker and slower.

Yugito Nii's hand fell once again.

This time, it was his thigh.

Then his calf.

Then his other arm.

Piece by piece, flesh was torn from his body and discarded onto the ground. The shredded chunks of meat scattered around him, a mix of red and white that looked exceptionally gruesome in the dim light.

The man's screams grew softer and weaker, fading from shrieks to groans, from groans to unconscious whimpers, until finally, even the whimpers ceased.

Yet his eyes remained open, his pupils dilated with absolute terror.

Turning a blind eye to his fear, Yugito Nii continued to flay him. Stroke after stroke, neither fast nor slow, as if she were performing a task that required meticulous patience.

The red-haired woman had long since been paralyzed by fear.

Slumped on the ground, she clutched the baby girl tightly to her chest, curling into a ball like a frightened rabbit. Her body trembled violently, her teeth chattered, and her eyes were wide with shock.

The baby girl in her arms, squeezed too tightly by her mother, felt uncomfortable and began to cry again. But her cries were faint, almost inaudible, like the weak mewling of a kitten.

Hearing her child's cries, the red-haired woman jolted and finally snapped out of her daze.

She looked down at the baby in her arms, then looked up at the man who was being systematically flayed alive.

Her lips quivered. She hugged her child even tighter, curling up and burying her face into the baby's swaddling clothes.

Amidst the continuous screams, her body shook uncontrollably.

The alleyway was thick with the heavy stench of blood mixed with the smell of dirt, creating a nauseating odor.

The commotion here finally attracted the attention of other Kusagakure ninja.

First, two ran over, then three more, and then another five.

Before long, over a dozen Kusagakure ninja stood at the entrance to the alley. Each held a kunai or shuriken, their faces tense and guarded.

When they saw the scene inside the alley, their expressions changed drastically.

A man was lying on the ground—no, not lying, but sprawled face down. He was completely immobilized and covered in blood. His flesh had been torn to pieces, exposing the muscles and bones beneath. Scattered around him were chunks of meat and shredded clothing. Blood splattered everywhere, dyeing the gray cobblestone path a dark crimson.

And the woman responsible stood beside him, her hands drenched in blood, her claws still gleaming.

Someone decided to make a move.

A young Kusagakure ninja stepped forward and hurled his kunai at Yugito Nii, shouting, "Stop right there!"