Chapter 183: Nine-Tails: Feed Me Peanuts!
Uchiha Taiga's expression was somewhat peculiar.
He stood atop the Majestic Attire Wooden Golem. Five Senju Hashiramas surrounded him, each with a serious expression and resolute eyes, as if they were about to do something momentous.
Looking at those faces, an inexplicable, strange feeling welled up in Taiga's heart. In this moment, he could somehow understand how the Nine-Tails had felt back then.
When that fox was pinned to the ground by Hashirama with a single hand, its mood must have been absolutely terrible.
Being actively sought out, told things like "you are too dangerous," and finally being defeated in the name of self-righteous justice.
That feeling definitely couldn't have been good.
'Nine-Tails: Feed me peanuts!'
But Uchiha Taiga was not the Nine-Tails; to him, this was just an amusement.
"Interesting."
He scoffed, his grin widening, and even had the leisure to raise a hand and beckon at Senju Hashirama.
"Come!"
A single word, crisp and clean, carrying an uncontainable excitement.
Hashirama's expression was dead serious, his face resolute, staring unblinkingly at Uchiha Taiga.
Without any unnecessary words, the next moment, the five Hashiramas moved simultaneously.
The five charged from five different directions, their speed so fast that the tearing air emitted sharp whistles. Their footsteps were light, but each step left a deep footprint on the stone platform, the surrounding stone slabs cracking slightly, revealing the immense power behind their footing.
Facts proved that Senju Hashirama was a ninja without any shortcomings.
Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, Taijutsu—every single aspect had reached the pinnacle of the ninja world.
Even in terms of Taijutsu, he displayed astonishing power.
His punches and kicks lacked any flashy movements; they were the simplest straight punches, front kicks, and sweeps. Yet, every strike carried tremendous force, a power combining chakra control and physical strength—the most orthodox Senju Monstrous Strength!
The first Hashirama rushed in front of Taiga, a right fist aiming straight for his face. The punch was incredibly fast, so fast that the air in front of it compressed into a white film, emitting an explosive pop as the fist broke through.
Taiga tilted his head slightly. The fist brushed past his ear, the wind from the punch blowing his hair back.
The second Hashirama attacked from his left, a side kick sweeping toward his waist.
Taiga raised his left leg, blocking the kick with his knee. The collision of their legs produced a dull thud.
The third Hashirama attacked from his right, thrusting a palm toward his chest.
Taiga raised his right hand, spreading his fingers to catch the strike. Palm met palm with a crisp smack.
The fourth Hashirama attacked from behind, throwing a punch at the back of his head.
Without turning around, Taiga ducked his head forward. The fist swept over his crown, the gust scattering his hair.
The fifth Hashirama attacked from above, stomping down toward his head.
Taiga raised his left hand, spreading his fingers to grab the foot, then flung the clone away with a flick of his wrist.
Out of the five attacks, not a single one landed.
Taiga stood in place, not having shifted his position by a single step.
His hands remained clasped together, only occasionally parting to block an attack before returning to their original position. The pale-gold chakra flames continued to burn around his body.
He was multitasking.
On one hand, he was channeling chakra to maintain control over the Fudo Myoo statue; on the other, he was dealing with Hashirama's assaults.
In the distance, the battle of the behemoths raged on.
The Fudo Myoo and the Kannon statues were still grappling. Though both had sustained heavy damage, the fight did not cease.
The Fudo Myoo's single remaining arm continued to swing its golden sword, while the Kannon's broken arms struck back desperately, as if they would fight until the end of time. However, the Kannon was visibly losing ground; its arms were dwindling, and the scars across its body were multiplying, making it look as though it would fall apart at any moment.
Taiga controlled the colossal clash while simultaneously fending off Hashirama's attacks, managing both tasks without letting either slip.
The attacks from Hashirama's main body and his clones grew faster and denser.
The five figures continuously threw punches and kicks from all directions, each strike carrying immense power—true Monstrous Strength.
If an ordinary person took even a single hit, their body would instantly be torn to pieces.
When those fists and feet struck the stone platform, craters cracked open. When they struck the air, explosive pops rang out.
Yet, Taiga remained completely unfazed.
He was enveloped in pale-gold chakra flames, acting as a layer of armor protecting his body.
When Hashirama's fists hit those flames, most of the force was dispersed. The remaining impact struck Taiga's body, but he didn't even sway.
He would dodge—a tilt of the head, a twist of the body, a slide of the foot—and Hashirama's fists would merely graze past him.
Or he would casually raise a leg to block—using his knee, shin, or sole, any part could accurately intercept the attack. Alternatively, he would take the hits head-on, letting his palms, arms, or shoulders absorb the tremendous force without issue.
When it came to pure Taijutsu, he was not lacking in the slightest; in fact, he handled the onslaught with absolute ease.
Hashirama's expression remained unchanged, like a man performing a necessary duty. His attacks didn't grow frantic from missing, nor did his footwork become sloppy from dodging. He continued to strike, punch by punch, move by move.
He didn't seem anxious at all.
During a brief lull after another round of attacks, Hashirama's main body suddenly stepped back twice. His right hand shifted from a fist to an open palm, fingers spread, aiming at Taiga.
"Wood Style: Adamantine Forest Tree!"
Crack, crack, crack!
The moment his words fell, countless branches surged from his palm.
These were no ordinary branches; they were thicker, denser, and harder, their surfaces as smooth as if coated in wax.
The branches lashed out at Taiga like vines, swarming from all directions—some dropping from above, some coiling from below, others flanking from the sides.
The branches moved incredibly fast, like countless snakes lunging at their prey simultaneously.
They traced arcs through the air, emitting sharp swishing sounds, instantly sealing off the space around Taiga completely.
Taiga didn't move.
He merely took a deep breath, his chest expanding greatly, and then exhaled forcefully.
Without even weaving a single hand sign, he spewed out a massive barrage of invisible wind blades from his mouth.
The wind blades flew from his throat like invisible swords, slicing through the air and emitting piercing shrieks wherever they passed.
The branches attacking Taiga were shredded by the wind blades. Before the wind, the wood was as fragile as paper, snapping upon contact and splintering into multiple pieces.
The severed chunks of wood rained down from the sky, clattering as they scattered or piled up into a small mound between Taiga and Hashirama.
The scattered debris formed a large screen, obstructing the line of sight between the two men.
The pile of wood reached waist-high; some pieces were still rolling on the ground, while others steamed. The scent of fresh timber filled the air.
With his vision blocked by the wood, Taiga couldn't see Hashirama.
Right at that moment, he sensed a figure suddenly appear by his side.
It hadn't rushed over from a distance; it appeared out of thin air, as if leaping out from another dimension.
The figure's speed was so fast that an ordinary person wouldn't have been able to react, only catching a blurry shadow flashing in the corner of their eye.
Taiga didn't turn his head, but his perception instantly locked onto the figure's position.
On his left, very close—so close it was practically pressed against his body.
Taiga felt a sudden lightness at his waist, and his gaze shifted downward.
The small jar that had been tied to his waist was gone, and inside that jar was none other than Black Zetsu.
Taiga's gaze followed the direction where the figure beside him had vanished, peering through the gaps in the scattered wood toward Hashirama's location.
Hashirama stood there, and beside him was another person.
That person was not Hashirama's Wood Clone, as their appearance was rapidly changing.
The wooden texture faded from their skin, the wooden color vanished from their clothes, and the wooden consistency peeled away from their body.
His face changed, shifting from Hashirama's rounded features to another man's sharper, angular face. His hair changed, turning from black to silver-white. His clothes changed, transforming from Hashirama's red armor into blue armor.
In the blink of an eye, a man wearing blue armor with silver-white hair and red markings on his face appeared in Taiga's line of sight. His features bore some resemblance to Hashirama's, but they were colder, harder—more like a drawn blade.
Senju Tobirama.
Second Hokage.
In his hand, he held a small, transparent jar containing a tiny black humanoid figure.
The tiny black figure was curled up at the bottom of the jar, grinning silently.
Tobirama stood beside Hashirama, holding the jar, his expression completely unchanged.
His eyes were red—not the red of the Sharingan, but a red laced with coldness. His lips were pursed, his chin slightly raised; his entire being resembled an unsheathed sword, sharp and icy.
Taiga looked at the jar and the silently grinning black figure inside it. His expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
The smile still hung on the corner of his mouth. It hadn't vanished or even faded because the jar was stolen.
He withdrew his gaze, looked at Hashirama, and spoke.
"Interesting. You planned this ambush beforehand, didn't you?"
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