Evolution—Sharktail Lightning Whip!

“Hiss—!”
Kisame suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, his pupils shrinking to the size of green beans, cold sweat pouring down his face like rain. A surge of searing pain shot through his backside, forcing a muffled groan from his lips as his body arched involuntarily. Then, with a wet pop, a tail sprouted from his body.

It was a gray-brown, sword-like appendage, over a meter long, with two tailfins at its end—unmistakably reminiscent of a shark’s tail at first glance. Yet along its length were etched silver lightning patterns, writhing with electricity, making it radiate a sense of lethal danger.

This was the Shark-Tail Lightning Whip.

A guttural roar escaped Kisame, a bestial sound driven by the wild power now surging within him, demanding release. Instinct seized him—he lashed his new tail.

A sharp crack rang out as the tail struck a tree as thick as a barrel, snapping it clean in two. The great trunk crashed to the ground. In the next instant, a boulder taller than a man shattered beneath a single swipe, exploding into countless fragments that shot outward in all directions, littering the forest floor.

Such tremendous strength.

It seemed, with the help of the “Iron-Eater” cheat, the Thunder Blade Fang had not only fused seamlessly with Kisame, becoming part of his body, but had also retained its unique qualities and power.

As for the price Kisame paid… beyond the pain in his backside, he now looked even less human than before. But given he already resembled a shark more than a man, it was a trivial concern.

If losing his humanity was the price of strength, then Kisame Hoshigaki would gladly abandon what little was left.

The only problem was that dragging this tail back to the Hidden Mist Village would surely cause a sensation.

At that moment, Kisame was struck by a thought. He consciously tensed his muscles, and something miraculous happened.

Whoosh—the Shark-Tail Lightning Whip, supple as a serpent, retracted into his body at lightning speed, vanishing without a trace.

So, this was a tail he could extend and retract at will. Kisame couldn’t help but smile.

Immediately, he thought of close-quarters combat—when locked in a stalemate, he could unleash a surprise attack with the shark tail, targeting his opponent’s vital points.

This appendage would allow him to make full use of the unrestricted fighting techniques he’d mastered in his past life.

It was time to leave. Kisame, after a brief consideration, resolved to dispose of Black Hoe Thunder Fang’s corpse, then return to the Hidden Mist Village and continue his life as a low-ranking ninja.

For the remaining six swords of the Hidden Mist were now his next targets.

However, perhaps the commotion he’d caused had already drawn the enemy.

Whoosh!

A fireball the size of a human head streaked through the moonlit forest, arcing toward Kisame with a roar.

What? Kisame’s heart jolted. He instinctively grabbed Black Hoe Thunder Fang’s corpse and hurled it toward the incoming fireball.

A hiss of steam erupted as the body’s moisture was instantly vaporized. The corpse shriveled into a dried husk, fluttering to the ground.

In the next moment, Yakura of the Scorch Style emerged from the darkness, her expression as cold as ever. One glance told her that Kisame was the same boy who had escaped by diving from the dam. But what truly unsettled her was—

“You killed your own superior?”

Her voice was icy, her brows slightly knit as she studied the enigmatic youth from the Hidden Mist. She knew that Black Hoe Thunder Fang had already died before she’d made her move.

Kisame answered her question with silence, neither confirming nor denying, leaving her to her own imagination.

He hesitated, debating whether to attack this woman. Considering she was an elite jonin with a unique bloodline ability and had several companions nearby, even with the power of the Shark-Tail Lightning Whip, he doubted he could defeat her.

So Kisame opted for his tried-and-true tactic—escape.

He spread his arms, backing away with a faint smile. “Yakura of the Scorch Style, if I live to see another day, we’ll meet again.”

Before the last word had faded, Kisame was already at the cliff’s edge. Under Yakura’s astonished gaze, he leapt backward and vanished into the abyss.

Swift as a shadow, Yakura darted to the cliff and peered down, seeing only the waterfall’s thunderous descent and the bottomless gorge below.

From this height, even a ninja would be shattered to pieces—a fall with no hope of survival.

And yet, for reasons she couldn’t explain, the face of that nameless Mist underling, with his chilling smile, remained vivid in Yakura’s mind.

His calm escape when surrounded by enemies, his ruthlessness in killing his superior, and the final madness in his leap from the cliff—

This was the impression Kisame Hoshigaki left on Yakura. If this man survived and grew, he would be a dangerous foe indeed.

As Yakura lingered at the cliff’s edge, the other Sand ninja finally arrived, belated and out of breath.

They quickly discovered Black Hoe Thunder Fang’s shriveled corpse and all assumed he had been killed by Yakura herself.

This news filled them with excitement. Under Yakura’s command, their infiltration had not only sabotaged countless bridges and dams in the Land of Water, but also slain one of the famed Seven Ninja Swordsmen—a resounding victory.

With this achievement, rewards and promotions awaited them upon their return.

Yakura turned to face her fervent subordinates. Hesitating, she ultimately said nothing to correct their assumption.

Yet, she was puzzled by the absence of the Thunder Blade Fang. Had the Hidden Mist underling taken it with him, falling into the ravine together?

Yakura considered leading a search along the river below, but this was enemy territory, and reinforcements from the Hidden Mist would soon arrive.

It was not a place to linger.

In the end, she abandoned the idea, collected the corpse of Black Hoe Thunder Fang, and departed swiftly with her team.

At the cliff’s edge, the waterfall roared on, its thunderous voice unceasing.

Midway down the precipice, a small tree clung tenaciously to the rock face, its roots wedged deep into the stone, its branches and leaves stretching stubbornly toward the sky.

Just as tenacious was Kisame Hoshigaki, who had leapt from above. As he fell, he summoned his shark tail, using it like a great feline’s to balance himself.

He repeatedly braced his body against rocky outcroppings, suffering many bruises and scrapes but greatly slowing his descent.

When he glimpsed the little tree, he knew fate had not abandoned him.

Now, his tail was wrapped tightly around the trunk, suspending him in midair—alive, against all odds.

After catching his breath, Kisame scrambled down, drawing on the climbing skills remembered from his former life, and descended safely to the valley floor.

Here, darkness reigned; the moon was hidden, and only the deafening waterfall could be heard.

Kisame entered the water, his tail undulating as he swam silently, a shark moving through the cold river toward the distant sea.

Night deepened; the moon was shrouded behind thick clouds, and the land was plunged into blackness.

All that transpired this night, like the moon itself, was veiled by layers of shadow and doubt…