A hoarse voice echoed through the alley, sending a chill down Rinto's spine. His back stiffened, and his short hair stood on end.
The voice belonged to none other than the cult's emissary, Igen Isamu. He emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. His scarred face, partially obscured by a hood, was illuminated by lightning, making him look even more grotesque and terrifying.
"Oh my god! Little brother, born in the year of the dog, huh? How is it that you find me even after I ran so far?" Igen Isamu's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Rinto, still shaken, could feel his heart pounding. This was no ordinary enemy—this was the Jōnin, the cult's strongest.
But before Rinto could react, Igen Isamu raised a hand, seemingly uninterested in answering. Instead, he asked curiously, "Immortal… No, wait. Rinto-kun, I'm really curious. Why would you suddenly want to escape when you've been so brainwashed?"
Rinto froze for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, it's a long story. You sure you want to hear it?"
"Sure," the cultist responded, clearly amused. He had no intention of rushing, seeing Rinto as nothing more than a minor inconvenience for now.
Taking advantage of his captor's idle curiosity, Rinto decided to buy some time. Though he knew he might not be able to defeat Igen Isamu, he had to act quickly. His escape depended on it.
"Well, there are many reasons why I wanted to escape," Rinto began, his voice nonchalant. "First of all, the food. I'm not picky, but Bingliangwan every day? I'm suffering from severe constipation, and every time I poop, there's local bleeding. Not to mention the toilets… You won't believe this, but they don't even have self-cleaning toilets! The toilet paper, man, it's so hard that it scratches my hemorrhoids!"
Rinto dramatically held his buttocks and grimaced, clearly playing the situation for laughs. "I mean, come on, it's just inhumane! I can't take it anymore!"
Igen Isamu was caught off guard. The immortal monster he had expected to hear speak of freedom, destiny, or revenge was instead complaining about toilet paper and hemorrhoids. He tried to maintain his composure, but his mouth twitched.
Rinto continued without missing a beat. "And the drinking water! It tastes like lime! No wonder everyone's teeth are yellow—it's that hard, unfiltered water!"
The longer Rinto rambled, the more Igen Isamu's patience wore thin. He had come prepared for a showdown, but instead, he found himself in an absurd conversation about bodily functions and poor infrastructure.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Enough!" he snapped, his voice deep and threatening. "We'll save the nonsense for later. It's time to go back."
The oppressive tone in Igen Isamu's voice caused the atmosphere to shift. It became suffocating, and for a moment, Rinto felt the weight of the situation settle over him. But he couldn't let that intimidate him now.
"No!" Rinto shook his head defiantly. "That's not up to you."
Before Rinto could say more, Igen Isamu flicked his wrist, and a kunai shot toward Rinto's feet at lightning speed. It was an attack so swift that even the most trained ninja would struggle to avoid it.
However, Rinto wasn't just any ordinary person anymore. His training, combined with his immortality, had sharpened his reflexes to the extreme. He didn't even flinch as the kunai approached. In a split second, he sprang forward, launching himself toward the alley's entrance like a gust of wind.
He made a split-second gamble. Igen Isamu wouldn't let him escape into the street or the crowd. His guess was right. At the entrance of the alley, Igen Isamu's clone appeared, blocking his path with a sharp kunai in hand.
"It's no use!" Rinto shouted, forming seals with his hands in an instant. "Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
Igen Isamu's eyes narrowed in disbelief. How could this mortal perform ninjutsu? His thoughts raced, but it was already too late. Rinto had tricked him.
The clone leapt into the air, but just as it did, Rinto spat out what appeared to be a massive fireball. However, it was all a ruse. The hand seals Rinto had made were not for the Great Fireball Technique at all.
"You bastard!" Igen Isamu yelled, enraged. He had been completely deceived.
But before he could react, he realized something was amiss. Rinto was not only a fool but a trickster. There was no real jutsu, just a diversion.
"You're looking for death!" Igen Isamu seethed, his anger burning hotter than ever. His hand formed another seal. "Earth Style: Land Thorn!"
The ground beneath Rinto's feet shifted, and before he could react, he felt his body lift off the ground as if weightless. He had been caught—his feet now suspended in mid-air by the powerful earth jutsu.
"Haha! How does it feel to be fooled?" Igen Isamu sneered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His eyes looked down at Rinto, who was still suspended, defiant even in this vulnerable state.
"I've got you now," Igen Isamu said with a cruel smile as he took out a sharp kunai from his ninja bag. He advanced on Rinto slowly, raising the blade to strike.
Rinto, who had stopped resisting, looked up with an innocent expression.
"Master Divine Envoy, what kind of magic is this?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"Well, since you asked," Igen Isamu said, mocking Rinto's confusion, "This move is the Earth Style: Heart Decapitation Technique."
Rinto nodded as though he understood. But inside, his mind raced.
"I knew it," he thought. "The heart… they've planted something in me."
As his captor prepared to deliver the final blow, Rinto closed his eyes, mentally preparing for death. It seemed like there was no escape this time.
But just before the blade descended, Igen Isamu hesitated. He thought back to something Rinto had said earlier. He had asked about how he found him after escaping.
Igen Isamu's gaze dropped to Rinto's chest, a subtle, fleeting glance. Rinto caught it.
A memory flashed in Rinto's mind—his chest had been cut open back at the cult's base. At the time, he thought it was part of a routine experiment. But now, it dawned on him: Igen Isamu might have implanted something inside his heart.
"Is it the heart?" Rinto asked aloud, his voice steady.
"Rinto-kun, you're quite perceptive," Igen Isamu smirked cruelly. "But now, it's too late. The curse mark will soon be planted in every bone of your body."
Rinto did not flinch. He had already given up on escaping, accepting the inevitable. But before the final blow came, he turned his head and spoke once more.
"Lord Divine Envoy, can I make one small request?"
Igen Isamu laughed darkly, shaking his head. "What could you possibly ask for now, Rinto-kun? You're about to die."
"No," Rinto shook his head, feigning innocence. "I just wanted to ask—how did you find me after I ran so far?"
For a moment, Igen Isamu's expression faltered. He looked down at Rinto's heart again, but quickly masked his confusion.
Rinto had caught it. The cult had indeed played with his heart, using dark arts to track him.
Before he could speak further, Igen Isamu raised his kunai to strike again, but this time, Rinto closed his eyes, awaiting the end.
But one thing was for certain: even in his last moments, Rinto had learned something vital about his captors' twisted methods. And somehow, the knowledge that he had discovered the truth gave him a strange sense of relief.
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