Wood Style And Sharingan

In a dim, underground chamber, two glowing moonstones embedded in the walls offered faint illumination. Their soft, eerie light cast long shadows over an array of cruel torture instruments hanging in neat rows. The ceiling dripped moisture, and the occasional sound of water hitting the floor echoed eerily throughout the space.

Smith had just stepped out of Bestone's shabby little shop when a sudden dizziness overwhelmed him. His vision spun, his feet floated off the ground—and the next moment, both he and Yan Yue found themselves here.

"Are these the two so-called double S-level freshmen from Huaihai College? They don't look all that impressive," a voice echoed from a shadowed corner.

"Who's there?" Smith instantly drew the standard short blade strapped to his back and pointed it toward the darkness.

A dim light flickered in the corner, revealing a man clad in fiery red robes. A flame-shaped mark was emblazoned on his forehead.

"A member of the Burning Fire Clan?!" Smith recognized the symbol at once and narrowed his eyes.

"They identified us this quickly," Yan Yue said grimly. "It seems the beast tide operation not only failed but exposed our identities as well."

The man in red shook his head with a sigh. "That's on you, Qingfeng. You underestimated Huaihai College," another voice spoke from the opposite side of the room.

Yan Yue snapped her gaze toward the source, tensing for battle.

A second young man in red robes walked out from the shadows, also bearing the same flame crest. He looked about the same age as Qingfeng, his expression calm and cold.

"Enough with the small talk, Mingyue," Qingfeng said. "Now that they're here, we need to act. The other two who came with them aren't weak. We need to wrap this up and retreat."

"They're both double S-level talents. Killing them outright would be a waste," Mingyue replied with a wicked grin. "Especially him. Smith is the son of Jiang Lei, a key figure in Huaihai City. There must be plenty of valuable intel in his head—we should extract it."

"Chain of Holy Water!"

"Wood Release: Explosive Gun Tree!"

Almost simultaneously, Smith and Yan Yue launched their attacks. The thin layer of accumulated water on the floor surged upward, forming chains of liquid that shot toward their targets. On the surrounding walls, thick wooden trunks burst forth and twisted rapidly, snaking toward Qingfeng and Mingyue in an effort to bind them.

Whoosh!

Before their attacks could land, deep crimson flames erupted beneath Qingfeng and Mingyue, instantly incinerating the wooden tendrils and evaporating the water chains.

In the next breath, Qingfeng vanished and reappeared in front of Yan Yue.

It wasn't just speed—it was space manipulation.

"A spatial ability user?" Smith's heart sank.

Bang!

Qingfeng pressed his palm lightly to Yan Yue's abdomen.

But the effect was far from light. Yan Yue was flung across the room like a ragdoll, slamming into the stone wall with enough force to create a massive dent.

Cough!

Blood sprayed from her mouth as her eyes widened in alarm. "A third-level mutant…"

Without a word, Qingfeng approached again.

A sharp sound of air being sliced rang out behind him. Qingfeng's eyes flicked to the side, and he vanished once more.

Smith had launched a sneak attack, but before he could land a blow, Qingfeng reappeared behind him and gripped him by the neck with ease, lifting him off the ground like a doll.

"Get the information from his mind," he ordered coldly and threw Smith to Mingyue like garbage.

"With pleasure," Mingyue replied cheerfully, though his smile was anything but friendly.

Compared to Qingfeng's stoic demeanor, Mingyue acted like a mischievous young man. But his methods were anything but harmless. Grabbing Smith, he slammed him against the wall with brutal force.

Pain surged through Smith's spine, nearly causing him to cry out.

"Shh…" Mingyue raised a finger to Smith's lips with mock gentleness. "From now on, you won't even be able to scream."

A strange glow surrounded his finger, and the moment he touched Smith's forehead, Smith's consciousness blurred.

Suddenly, Smith found himself in a sea of fire.

He was shackled to a massive iron cross, chained tightly by thick restraints. The burning heat licked at his skin, yet no physical pain could match the overwhelming mental pressure.

Mingyue stood before him, his grin wider than ever.

"Welcome to my illusion world, little friend," he said proudly, arms spread wide as if presenting a grand stage.

"You know what illusion is, right?" Mingyue's voice dripped with arrogance. "Low-level illusion tricks the senses with fake scenes. But high-level illusion—true illusion—drags your consciousness into my constructed space."

"In this world, I am god. The damage you suffer here may not hurt your body, but your spirit will feel it tenfold. If you don't want your mind shattered, you'd better start cooperating."

Smith, bound and seemingly helpless, slowly lifted his head and smirked.

"This is your illusion world? Doesn't seem all that impressive to me."

The confidence in his tone made Mingyue pause.

As Smith opened his eyes, Mingyue's heart skipped a beat. A pair of scarlet eyes stared back at him—eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight.

Three rotating tomoe spun slowly in Smith's eyes.

Sharingan!

Mingyue blinked, confused. "Huh?"

Where did that confidence come from? He couldn't understand it.

This was his illusion space. Smith, a mere first-level advanced spiritual user, had no chance of resisting—let alone reversing—the illusion.

Still, Mingyue quickly regained his composure. "Trying to bluff your way out with tricks? That won't work."

He strolled forward, summoned a sword forged of fire from the sea, and raised it to Smith's chest.

"Let's see how long you last—"

"Look again," Smith interrupted calmly, "and tell me—who's actually trapped?"

Mingyue's eyes wavered. Then they widened in disbelief.

In the blink of an eye, their positions had reversed.

He was now the one shackled to the cross, fire licking at his body—and Smith stood before him, perfectly free.

"What the—?!"

Panic gripped him.

Smith took a step closer, the Sharingan glowing brighter. "Your illusion is powerful. But before my eyes, it's nothing."

"What... what is this? You're a Wood and Spirit Eye type! Why do you know illusion techniques?"

"And even if you were an illusionist, you're just first-order advanced! How could you trap me inside my own illusion?!"

Finally, realization dawned on Mingyue.

He had fallen into an illusion—within his own illusion space.

That was something only someone with far superior illusion abilities could do.

"No… That's impossible!"

"How could this happen?!"

Smith's voice cut through his panic like a knife. "A frog at the bottom of a well can never understand the vastness of the sky."

He leaned in, eyes glowing ominously.

"In front of my Sharingan, your illusion… is nothing but a clown's performance."

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