The bloody fragrance bloomed beside the hot spring, dripping along the tattered ninja gloves on the white bandages shattered on the ground. Jiraiya stared at his right hand blankly, dozens of shallow and deep marks torn the palms that had been holding Koushi for many years. If it weren't for the handguard with iron wire, the hand might have been useless, right?

Aibubu squinted his eyes, pinched his right hand with his left hand, and then broke his dislocated right hand back with a "click". His whole right arm drooped down softly, without any force, and a hint of shock appeared in his heart. In memory, Naruto and Sasuke's collision did not cause dislocating both wrists. It can only be said that Jiraiya's penetration and conductivity are stronger.

However, if you don’t cut, you will soon calm down, because unless you advance many times, you can only condense it with your hands. It is not comparable to the tear and sharpness that can be attached to the weapon. Even the hardest steel will break under the sharpness, not to mention just a palm. The memory of not cutting is gradually floating away...

Jiraiya first came to his senses, exhaled, and murmured as Zaibuzhan: "What is this ninjutsu called?" Zaibuzhan bit his lip, his eyes turned his eyes to the sky, and said softly: "Tear..." Unfortunately, the person who created this theory and ninjutsu has been buried by memory? Even his former face was blurred by time dyeing...

Jiraiya looked at Zaibuzhan's misty gaze, and did not ask anything. He said softly, "Your teacher is also a great person?" Zaibuzhan smiled and said sarcastically, "He is just a dead person, haha..." Jiraiya's face changed, and he lowered his head slightly and said nothing. Zaibuzhan sat back on the blanket, picked up a bottle of sake, slightly pulled the bandage on his face, took a sip, suppressing the memories that appeared in his heart.

Jiraiya looked at the man who was drinking and drinking, and took out a bandage from his ninja bag and treated the wound on his hands slightly. He sat down with Zaibuzhan. The two of them silently sipped the sake in the bottle.

The faint smell of blood was diluted by the slightly spicy aroma of wine. I felt the warmth in my throat if I didn’t cut it off. Perhaps it was good to be drunk. Unfortunately, I couldn’t, or I dare not get drunk because I lacked that sense of security. Even if I was with Kisame, I always “paddled” and threw the drunk Kisame aside. Only by looking at the drunk Kisame can I experience the faint so-called “friendship” and “bonds”...

The dyed bandages were messy next to the gorgeous carpet, and the slightly steaming hot springs were vague, just like the purest white, as if they were to cover up the blood and sadness under the white...

The sky gradually dimmed in the silence of the two men, and a miserable ray of Xiyang emitted a bright red light, as if it was proclaiming the final madness. "Cruff--" The hoarse sound of the wooden door turning came from the door. Zabuzhan and Jiraiya both turned their eyes to the door, and the white and thin figures reflected in.

Zaibuzhan helped the beheading sword behind him stood up and asked softly: "Has Mr. Tsunade been asleep?" Bai showed off that unique smile, but unfortunately, his forehead was covered with sweating, and could not hide his physical fatigue. Zaibuzhan said to Jiraiya sideways, "Mr. Jiraiya, I'm just saying goodbye here, after all, I've delayed too much of the trip."

Jiraiya looked at Bai who was standing at the door, looked at the Abushou in front of her, waved her hand, and said, "Let's go, I will tell her where Tsunade..."

Zaibuzhan nodded and walked out the door. Bai followed Zaibuzhan tightly. Jiraiya gently sipped the sake in the bottle. Seeing Zaibuzhan and Bai's figures gradually disappeared between the cracks in the door, they were still two children...

Zabuzhan hugged Bai and slowly walked on the way to the Snow Country. Looking at Bai leaning beside him, a strange feeling appeared in his heart. Is it just his demonstration? Perhaps, he had the impulse to occupy such pure things, just like he couldn't help kissing the girl in front of him. Bai's feelings for him may be like when he was wandering, a sense of need. Whether it was the former Tanzi or the follower of his subordinates, the sense of existence allowed him to continue to live, even if he was tired.

Huh―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――�

Zabuzhan was awakened by Bai, and the messy memories faded from his eyes. Looking at the girl in front of him, Zabuzhan smiled slightly, but Bai's next sentence made Zabuzhan feel heartbroken. "If you don't kill Master, no matter what, Bai will be a tool to stay by his side." Looking at Bai Wuxia's face, Zabuzhan picked up Bai and hugged her tightly in his arms. No matter what, even if it was just a tool, he would still have to bring her around...

The border of the country of snow...

The snow floated slightly, neither rushing nor slow, scattered under the pale sky, and the crystal clearness of the hexagons condensed into a piece. The exquisite hexagons are hard to distinguish, only the whiteness, expressing the color of the heart.

The two figures were vaguely moving in the snow, and the sunken footprints left behind were then buried by the falling snowflakes.

Zai Buzhan looked at Bai who was wrapped in his coat. His exposed little face turned slightly red, but the slightly darker color on his face showed Bai's somewhat lost color. Zai Buzhan narrowed his eyes and vaguely remembered that it seemed that Bai was born in a village where snowflakes often fell, but the warmth that Bai had at the beginning disappeared there. He liked the cleanliness of the snow, but he could not forget the sadness under the same sky.

Bai, watching everything in the Snow Country, but this beauty of nature did not bring the relief and pleasure it should have, but evoked the pure white grief. Aibuzhan slowly stroked the beheading sword. The few breaths hidden in the snow and the familiar smell of blood made Zaibuzhan squint slightly. At first, he always hoped not to kill in front of Bai, but sometimes he had to take action. After all, his head was valuable, and Bai did not have the mental discomfort of seeing the messy corpse. Perhaps, in his early years, he killed his father with his own hands, which made her easier to accept that environment. Bai did not like killing, did not like blood, and was not suitable for these.

The sword slowly blocked Bai next to him. The beheading sword was inserted straight into the snow. The red blood splashed out along the blade that the sword stabbed into. Several snowflakes burst out around the sword. The splattered snowflakes blocked the sight of the sword. In exchange for a harsh sound of "Zheng----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zaibuzhan inserted the beheading sword into the snow and pulled it out again. The blood stained with the back of the knife had disappeared and returned to the previous blackness. Zaibuzhan pulled Bai up and continued to walk towards the city of the Snow Country. Looking at Bai's slightly dazed face, Zaibuzhan couldn't help but ask, "Have you ever regretted it, Bai?"

Bai looked at Zai Buzhan in shock. A wisp of indescribable color flashed across his originally dull eyes. It was not that kind of joy, but a kind of sorrow. A forced smile appeared on the little face that was always holy. Bai lowered his head and followed Zai Buzhan silently.

Perhaps, after meeting Bai, my heart became weak. Haha, it is not impossible to die at Kakashi's hands...

A soft and depressing whimper hit the hollow ventricle, and the shallow water marks scratched the slightly red cheeks, causing the coldness to be a bit tangled.

Haha, my world doesn't know that it is rotating around the star, and Bai, her world is only herself, the ghost of Wu Nin, and the Taodi? If you don't cut it, maybe, just like God, Yu Nin's god is Hanzo, or maybe it's also the future zero, while Bai's god is only herself. There is nothing more heartbreaking than the meaning of his own god denying his existence. Even if you question your own beliefs, you can pierce the weak heart. Realizing that such a non-cutting has pierceeded the weak heart of the girl in front of you.

The steps that were not cut were condensed by the white cold under the feet, as if the melted white candles touched the cold and solidified, and they could not remove the heavy steps.

Haha, it is always my selfishness that hurts everything around me, just like an umbrella, which gives me no discrimination and spoiling, but I betray my promise but hate my past world. It may be simple to recognize it, but the irreversible past makes it easier for me to live without recognizing myself.

The white world is always so cold. If you don’t cut it out your palm with finger-exposed gloves, gently stroke your white cheeks, wipe the frozen tears, and exhale a mouthful of white mist under the bandage: "I’m sorry, white..." This seems to be my first apology in this world...

The white world was scattered with scattered coldness, gradually covering up the bright red, white world, and white world behind the two people, only two people were left, condensed in the snow and snow...
Chapter completed!