Strike first to gain the upper hand.

For Kisame, if he could truly learn the Sage Art of Shikkotsu Forest through Tsunade, he would have struck it rich. After all, Sage Arts are a cultivation system independent from chakra, with a ceiling high enough to harm those on the level of the Six Paths. And as it happened, he possessed the prerequisites for learning Sage Arts. Since that was the case, why wouldn't he pursue this formidable power?

“You? Don’t even dream about it.”

Tsunade snapped back to herself and immediately dashed cold water on Kisame’s hopes. “Your aptitude barely makes the cut, but… your character is just too poor. The Great Slug Sage would never like you, so don’t get your hopes up.”

My character’s lacking?

Kisame had expected Tsunade to refuse, but he hadn’t thought the reason would be so feeble. It seemed he really was cut out for Sage Arts—Tsunade couldn’t even find a real fault with him.

He must find a way to make a trip to the Shikkotsu Forest.

Not only was Sage Art there, but also the Senju Great Blade—both things he dreamed of possessing. But now wasn’t the time to be hasty. Kisame realized that his relationship with Tsunade was shallow at best; it wasn’t that he hadn’t earned her trust—she’d rather see him dead as soon as possible.

Under such circumstances, even if he shamelessly tried to curry her favor, it would hardly help. He’d have to leave it for another day.

With this thought, Kisame decided not to waste any more time. He uttered a few words of farewell and prepared to leave.

“Wait!” Tsunade called after him, still unwilling to give up. “Where did you hide my necklace?”

“I swallowed it,” Kisame finally answered truthfully.

But Tsunade didn’t believe him, thinking he was lying. She snorted coldly, shot him a fierce glare, and stormed off.

Kisame also turned to leave, but after only a few steps, he sensed a hostile gaze upon him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lord Fuji not far away.

Fuji’s eyes burned with jealousy. After three months of filming as the male lead, he hadn’t gained any advantage with Tsunade. Meanwhile, Kisame, who played the villain, was getting closer and closer to her.

They’d even been sneaking off to “practice yoga” together on set—clearly not any wholesome activity.

These shameless lovers—why didn’t they just take it to the bedroom?

The thought made Fuji grit his teeth, a murderous intent welling up within him toward Kisame.

The filming was finished anyway; it was time to dispose of him.

Kisame sensed the killing intent. He was never one to play defense, so he made up his mind at once—

Strike first.

Two hours later.

Night had fallen, the lights of the coastal town flickered on, and a vibrant nightlife unfurled.

Inside a nightclub, Lord Fuji and his two elite jonin bodyguards were indulging themselves.

Kisame, in disguise, had followed them to the club’s entrance.

“Who knows if the medicine Tsunade gave me really works? I’ll try it out on this lot,” he mused, taking out a vial of colorless, tasteless liquid.

It was time to act.

In the private room, Fuji sat with a woman on each arm, already tipsy. The door opened, and a beautiful hostess entered with a bottle, pouring drinks for the three men.

“You two—take care of Hoshigaki Kisame. I don’t want to see him at tonight’s wrap party.”

Fuji lifted his glass and drained it, then issued the order to his bodyguards with a cold smile.

Having said that, he rose and left for the hotel alone to attend the banquet.

“Just a mere Mist Chunin. We’ll deal with him on the way back, no big deal,” the two bodyguards said, unconcerned, continuing to drink.

Not long after—

The door suddenly swung open, interrupting their revelry.

Kisame had arrived.

“You ladies, out,” he instructed the hostesses.

They were no strangers to such situations and quickly filed out without a word.

“You…”

Seeing Kisame, the two bodyguards were more surprised than angry. They hadn’t expected this guy to walk right in, seeking his own death.

Attack!

They exchanged a glance—years of partnership made their intentions clear in an instant.

They could finish him in a second.

But just then, both men felt their strength drain away. Even standing up from the sofa was a struggle, let alone forming hand seals or launching an attack.

“There’s something in the drinks!” one cried, face paling, warning his companion.

“Heh.” Kisame shut the door with a bang, baring a grin that revealed two rows of razor-sharp teeth gleaming coldly.

A minute later.

The door opened once more, and Kisame walked out alone.

Behind him, the two elite jonin lay dead on the floor, eyes wide open in death.

If it had been a fair fight, Kisame wouldn’t have feared them, but dealing with two well-coordinated elite jonin would have caused a commotion—innocents could have been caught in the crossfire.

But with Tsunade’s potent sedative, it was all too easy, saving him much effort.

A shinobi must always be careful and vigilant to survive. Otherwise, like those two, they might possess great strength but be unable to use it, dying in bitter frustration.

Kisame left the nightclub swiftly, as if he had never been there.

Ten minutes later.

He entered the hotel where the crew was staying.

A grand wrap party was underway.

His gaze swept over the bustling crowd, but he didn’t see Lord Fuji.

Feigning nonchalance, Kisame greeted the crew as he wove through the throng, heading to a corner of the lobby.

There was a slot machine there.

A familiar figure was standing with her back to him, feeding coins into the machine. From time to time, she pounded the wall with her fist, muttering curses under her breath.

It was Tsunade.

“How much have you lost?” Kisame strolled up casually and asked.

“Shh!” Tsunade turned, silencing him with an irritable gesture. “Don’t mention the word ‘lose’ in front of me. It’s bad luck.”

She reached for more coins from her pocket, but after turning both pockets inside out, she came up empty.

“That’s not how you play a slot machine,” Kisame said, waving her aside. It was time to show her what real gambling looked like.

“You know how to do this?” Tsunade was skeptical as she watched him insert a coin.

He pressed the button. The screen spun for over ten seconds, then stopped on three completely different symbols.

The payout slot was utterly silent.

“That’s it? Your luck is no better than mine,” Tsunade burst out laughing, feeling a little better about her own losses.

Kisame said nothing, inserted another coin, and pressed the button again.

But this time, as the machine spun, he discreetly sent a thread of chakra from his right index finger into the payout slot.

A bit of sleight of hand.

When the music stopped, the screen once again showed three different symbols.

Yet the payout slot suddenly opened, pouring out coins in a noisy torrent, quickly piling up into a little mountain and spilling onto the floor.

The machine had hit the jackpot.

“You… you’re cheating again!” Tsunade cried, full of disdain for his methods.

Kisame was unfazed. “These machines are designed to make people lose. There’s nothing fair about them. Since that’s the case, why shouldn’t I use even less fair means to get the money out? Gambling is nothing but a scam, and my way of dealing with it is to rob it back—with interest.”

Beating a scam with outright theft.

That was Kisame’s “way of gambling.”

“…”

Tsunade was left speechless.

If this guy ever set foot in a casino, he wouldn’t even bother to gamble—he’d just rob the place.

“These coins are for you—go buy yourself a drink,” Kisame pushed the pile toward her, then casually asked, “Have you seen Lord Fuji? I’m worried he might be in danger.”