Uchiha orphan, so what if I'm ruthless?

Uchiha Taiga clapped his hands to brush off imaginary dirt, looked down at Han lying in the pile of broken bricks, and took a step back.

"Trying to play the victim, huh?"

His tone was casual, that faint smile still hanging on his lips. He then looked up at the surrounding Iwagakure shinobi, and finally at Onoki standing in the distance.

"You all saw it. He threw the first punch."

He wore an earnest expression as he spoke, as if he were genuinely trying to reason with them.

The Iwagakure shinobi stood frozen in place, still gripping their kunai and shuriken. Not a single one responded; they merely watched his one-man show.

Taiga felt no awkwardness whatsoever, completely unbothered by their stares.

Onoki took a deep breath, his chest heaving.

"Stop!"

His voice was loud and full of vigor, echoing clearly across the battlefield.

Hearing the command, the Iwagakure shinobi hesitated slightly but slowly backed away. Some returned their kunai to their pouches, while others picked themselves up from the ground, dusted themselves off, and retreated to the sides of the street.

But Han did not retreat.

He rose from the rubble. With a violent shake, he sent the dust coating his red armor billowing into the air.

He straightened his crooked helmet, revealing his entire face.

It was the face of a middle-aged man with strong, square features, thick eyebrows, and large eyes. A ring of short stubble lined his jaw, and a small cut at the corner of his mouth was still oozing blood.

His cheek twitched. He locked his eyes onto Taiga, his pupils burning with pure fury.

"Stop!"

Onoki shouted again, his voice much louder this time, carrying an unquestionable tone of absolute command.

Han heard him, but he didn't budge. Right now, all he wanted was to crush the brat standing in front of him!

Leaning slightly forward, he let his arms hang by his sides, his fingers curled. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling violently. White steam began to hiss from the gaps in his armor, growing thicker and more abundant until it completely enveloped him in a dense white fog.

Then, he moved.

He didn't charge forward; instead, his body gave a violent jolt.

Boom!!

The steam around him erupted in an instant, exploding outward like a localized steam bomb.

The white vapor expanded in all directions with him at the epicenter, moving so fast the naked eye could barely track it. The temperature of the steam was so high that it warped and distorted the surrounding air.

Taiga was instantly swallowed by the steam.

The white mist wrapped completely around him, obscuring everything from sight. Only the loud hissing of the erupting steam could be heard. The heat was intense enough to scorch the stone pavement beneath their feet; a normal person would find it impossible to even breathe in such an environment.

The Sunagakure shinobi had no intention of intervening.

Rasa stood there with his arms crossed, his expression calm, as if watching a performance that had nothing to do with him.

Yugito Nii remained standing to the side, her expression unchanged.

Uzumaki Yumiko huddled behind a pillar. Even though she was far from the steam cloud, she could still feel the suffocating wave of heat washing over her, as if someone had just opened a furnace door right in front of her face.

A few Takigakure shinobi stood even further away, their faces pale. One of them glanced at the steam cloud, then at Onoki and Rasa, before turning and quickly slipping away.

Taiga stood at the very center of the steam cloud.

The temperature was high enough to inflict severe burns on an ordinary person within a single second. Yet, he stood there motionless, his expression completely unfazed.

The white mist churned violently around him but simply could not touch his body, as if an invisible barrier was keeping it at bay.

Han burst out from the steam.

His right leg was raised high, crashing down toward Taiga's head like a massive battleaxe. Coated in a thick layer of pressurized steam, the kick was faster and packed even more destructive force than his previous punch.

If this kick landed, it could cleave a thick wall clean in half.

Taiga didn't dodge.

He swung his hand sharply, his palm tracing an upward arc across his chest.

A violent gale surged from his palm, sweeping forward like a giant fan.

Whoosh!!

The dense white steam was instantly blown away by the fierce wind. The mist parted to the sides, revealing Taiga standing in the center.

His hair whipped back in the wind, and his clothes fluttered wildly, but his body remained as steady as a mountain.

Han's leg had already reached the top of his head.

Taiga raised his left arm and blocked the kick.

Bang!

Arm and shin clashed, producing a dull, heavy thud.

The layer of steam wrapping Han's leg burst outward the moment they made contact, sending white mist churning around Taiga's arm.

Taiga's arm didn't budge an inch, and Han's leg couldn't press down a single millimeter further.

However, the stone tiles beneath Taiga's feet shattered instantly, and he sank several inches into the ground from the sheer downward force.

The corner of his mouth curled up.

"Interesting Nintaijutsu."

Taiga remarked, his tone carrying a hint of genuine praise.

Then, he made his move.

Pushing off the ground with his right foot, he leaned forward and drove his right fist squarely into Han's abdomen.

Han's body bowed backward from the impact, a clear fist imprint left indented on his armor.

Taiga didn't stop. He released Han's leg with his left hand and delivered another right hook, this time to Han's chest.

Then came a left hook, a right cross, a left jab, a right straight.

His fists moved so fast they blurred into a series of afterimages. Every punch slammed into Han's armored body, producing a rapid succession of heavy thuds, like someone beating a massive war drum.

Taiga was using pure taijutsu right now, unbound by any traditional ninja style. If another transmigrator had been present, they might have recognized the distinct flavor of modern free combat.

Han was forced back continuously by the barrage of punches, his feet plowing two deep trenches into the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Han crossed his arms over his chest to block most of the strikes. But his armor was already warping under the pressure; the chest plate had a massive dent, and several cracks had formed on his left arm guard.

With a furious roar, his body jolted again, triggering another steam eruption.

This time, the steam was thicker, hotter, and far more violent. The white mist surged forward like a solid wall, pushing toward Taiga.

Taiga didn't retreat.

His figure flickered within the steam. The vapor couldn't obscure his vision or slow his fists in the slightest. He continued to hammer away at Han, his punches only growing heavier.

Han was beaten back again and again.

Watching this unfold from a distance, Onoki's expression turned incredibly grim.

He raised his hands, bringing his palms together as if holding an invisible sphere. A white light flickered between his palms, growing brighter and more blinding by the second, like a miniature sun taking shape in his grasp.

"Father!"

Kitsuchi, standing beside him, paled slightly at the sight and called out instinctively.

Onoki ignored him.

He thrust his hands forward, and the white light shot from his palms, streaking straight toward the center of the battlefield like a laser beam.

Particle Style.

The white beam was completely silent, moving so fast it was nearly imperceptible to the naked eye.

Wherever the beam passed, the air warped and light refracted, blurring everything in its path.

Taiga had sensed it long before it fired.

The moment that chakra fluctuation flared in Onoki's hands, he had locked onto it.

He knew exactly what it was... Kekkei Tota: Particle Style, a power capable of dismantling any matter at a molecular level.

He had no intention of taking it head-on just yet.

At that exact moment, Han's right leg swept toward him again—a high roundhouse kick trailing white steam, aimed straight for his head.

Taiga's eyes narrowed slightly.

He reached out and lightly tapped Han's shin. There wasn't much force behind the tap, but the angle and timing were flawless. Like a master of Tai Chi redirecting an opponent's momentum, he guided the force of Han's kick and altered its trajectory.

Han's leg swept past Taiga's face, swinging wildly in a completely different direction.

And that direction happened to be exactly where the white beam was coming from.

Han's long leg swung right into the Particle Style beam.

There was no sound, no explosion, not even the slightest commotion. The white beam passed silently through Han's lower leg before dissipating into the air.

Han let out a muffled groan, stumbling and nearly collapsing to the ground.

A hole as thick as a wrist had appeared in his right calf, piercing cleanly from front to back. The edges were perfectly smooth, as if polished by a machine.

A large chunk of the armor around the hole had vanished, along with the flesh and bone beneath it.

There was no bleeding, nor was there any exposed damaged tissue. Everything in that space had been dismantled by the Particle Style, reduced to invisible atoms and scattered into the wind.

Han looked down at his leg, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

He didn't cry out in pain, but his body began to tremble slightly.

It wasn't out of fear. It was pure physiological instinct—the body's natural reaction after sustaining catastrophic trauma beyond its threshold of endurance.

Taiga didn't give him a moment to breathe.

Flipping his body, he spun in mid-air and slammed one hand down onto Han's shoulder.

Han was already unsteady. Under the sudden downward pressure, he completely lost his balance, tilting backward and crashing toward the ground.

Taiga followed through, pressing down hard and pinning Han firmly to the earth.

Han's back slammed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He struggled fiercely, slapping his left hand against the ground in a desperate attempt to get up, but the severe injury to his right leg robbed him of his leverage.

Taiga kept a firm grip on his shoulder and drove a knee into his chest, locking him securely in place. He couldn't move an inch.

Han thrashed wildly a few more times but failed to break free.

His face was covered in dirt and sweat, his eyes filled with sheer unwillingness to accept defeat. He looked up at the young man pinning him down, panting heavily. His lips moved, but in the end, no words came out.

The surroundings fell dead silent.