Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Final Moment

At this very moment, both Gaara and Shukaku, as they were bathed in this radiant light, were overwhelmed by a comfort they had never experienced before. It was as if they were lazily soaking in a hot bath; all the fatigue in their bodies was swept away, replaced by a languidness.

Yes—languidness! In Gaara's mind, it seemed as though a little figure was endlessly repeating a mantra: Rest, take a break! It was a peculiar sensation, not the urge to rest born from exhaustion or weakness, but a native emotion, as if pausing for a moment could bring immense happiness.

This was Feng Xue, through the AT Field, sending erroneous signals directly to the opponent’s brain, causing dopamine to be released whenever they rested. Dopamine is an inducement hormone, making one feel that doing something will bring comfort—a powerful hormone of suggestion, present even in the roots of addiction. Feng Xue had linked this hormone to rest, causing the enemy to genuinely desire repose from the depths of their soul and thus lose their will to fight. This move, Feng Xue had named “Sloth.” (By now, you can probably guess—Sloth and Pride are indeed part of the same series developed by Feng Xue: Belial’s Seven Deadly Sins. Yes, Feng Xue shamelessly named his gourmet demon Belial.)

Under the glow, Gaara’s ferocious expression gradually softened, and at last he slumped to the ground, motionless. The sand that covered him slid away, as if he had entirely relinquished the thought of battle.

“This should count as my victory, right?” Feng Xue had scarcely finished speaking when a startled cry rang out. Looking up, he saw four translucent purple walls rising from the stands!

“Damn it! Uncle Snake is selling out his allies!” Feng Xue cursed inwardly, but then saw four figures leap from the stands. Temari and Kankuro wasted no time, hoisting Gaara and fleeing, while Xia Mi and Mu Qianrou remained at Feng Xue’s side, signaling him to quickly recover his strength.

Without a word, Feng Xue retrieved a large number of food-packed storage scrolls from his spatial pouch and began devouring them with abandon.

In truth, Xia Mi and Mu Qianrou could have slipped away quietly when Orochimaru raised the Four Purple Flame Barrier, but that would have meant abandoning Feng Xue. The central Academy for Transcenders seeks to cultivate powerful individuals capable of suppressing the fate of an entire clan, not ruthless monsters who betray comrades. If anyone dared to openly betray their teammates during the final exam, even if they passed with excellent grades, the legendary Moral Assessment would likely drop them straight to the bottom.

(Note: The Moral Assessment is a legendary evaluation at the central Academy for Transcenders. Though no one has ever seen it, each year someone is expelled for losing all their moral points. Some students even suspect the Academy can observe the half-plane, but given the flow of time there, even demigods find it hard to observe precisely. The more plausible theory is that the Academy uses the karmic threads attached to students to deduce whether they’ve crossed any red lines.)

Still, seeing the two of them descend from the stands to help rather than fight separately, Feng Xue felt a warmth in his heart.

“Hey! Can you eat a little quieter? You’re making me hungry over here!” Mu Qianrou repelled a Konoha chunin, a vein throbbing on her forehead.

“I can’t help it!” Feng Xue stuffed an entire ham into his mouth. If not for the enhancement of his gourmet cells, this would have choked a normal person half to death. In this state, with eating as his sole objective, simply maintaining gratitude toward the food was the limit—let alone any etiquette.

Of course, if he couldn’t maintain gratitude, Feng Xue wouldn’t be able to activate his food-based energy replenishment.

However, this gluttonous display attracted some unexpected trouble—such as:

“Hand over your eating technique and we’ll spare your life!”

Suddenly, a massive figure appeared, accompanied by a group of hefty and less hefty followers, barging into the fray. The situation, once almost relaxed, became tense in an instant. Even without introductions, their size alone marked them as members of the Akimichi clan. Feng Xue had no time to speak, swallowing a sweet-and-sour fish with a head full of black lines, then unscientifically spitting out the entire fishbone.

“Call it karma, I suppose! After stealing their transformation technique, they come to snatch my food secrets!” Xia Mi teased Feng Xue, but he himself sat cross-legged, a guqin appearing on his lap. This instrument was distinctly different from the violin he’d used before—not just in form, but when it appeared, his Quniu avatar dove straight into the body of the guqin, causing it to radiate a layer of divine light.

Though not an expert, Feng Xue had at least encountered guqin in his past life, and immediately saw it was newly made—no broken patterns, not even the usual wear from use.

Logically, with Xia Mi’s extensive knowledge, it shouldn’t be difficult to retrieve a legendary instrument from the half-plane. But instead, he chose a new guqin as the vessel for his Quniu avatar, which was not normal. The only conclusion: Xia Mi had crafted this guqin himself. If that’s the case…

“That’s right. I intend to refine this guqin into a Noble Phantasm,” Xia Mi replied, as if reading his teammate’s thoughts, tuning the strings as he spoke. In the next moment, a melody reminiscent of clashing armor and galloping horses erupted from the guqin on his lap.

“Hey! We’re surrounded here, you know! Playing that tune now isn’t exactly not raising a death flag!” Mu Qianrou’s words belied her actions—her hands never paused. The South Star Waterbird Fist truly brought cutting force to its peak; in a few swift movements, several chunin, unnerved by Xia Mi’s ‘Ambush from Ten Sides,’ lay on the ground missing arms or legs.

It was merciful—unlike fractures, this world had advanced knowledge of cells, and directly severed limbs often had a high chance of being reattached later.

Of course, that depended on whether they could find their own limbs.

Mu Qianrou didn’t strike ruthlessly. As a martial cultivator whose soul cultivation is rooted in martial intent, she upheld her own martial code. Not one to impose virtue on others, nor to strike those who’ve lost the ability to fight.

The way of martial arts—temperament is fundamental. Only with restraint does true strength emerge.

Watching his two teammates battle, Feng Xue’s eating sped up, shoving all sorts of prepared high-calorie foods into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. If not for his gourmet cell’s extreme digestive enhancement, he’d have died from choking or bursting.

Food consumed in vast quantities, Feng Xue finally made up for the energy spent fighting Gaara. Though his soul was still somewhat depleted from producing so many soul particles, it was enough for him—after all, this wasn’t the main battlefield for him.