Naruto: The hardworking model who realizes his dream is actually the white moonlight of the ninja wo

The night fell over the desert, it was pitch black and silent. The cold night wind howled, blowing up small pieces of sand that hit the walls of the wooden house, making a rustling sound.

The wooden house stands alone in this vast desert, as if it is a corner forgotten by the world.

A faint candlelight flickered in the room, shining through the window, barely illuminating the surrounding space. Sandstorms kept blowing in through the cracks in the door and windows, and the candlelight swayed in the wind, sometimes brighter and sometimes darker.

The furnishings in the house are simple and plain, with a rough wooden bed, a worn-out table, and a few chairs. In this lonely night, they silently witness the passage of time.

This is a child’s home and it was once where the family lived.

But the family disappeared.

Even the last occupant fell into the abyss.

The desert night is like an endless void, making people feel an inexplicable fear and loneliness. But the wooden house gives people a little comfort, it is the only safe haven in this desolate land.

Here, people can avoid the invasion of wind and sand and enjoy a moment of peace.

In this simple house, a tattered table stands alone against the wall, as if silently telling the vicissitudes of time.

The tabletop was covered with scratches of varying depths, and some of the paint had peeled off, revealing the worn-out wood underneath. But on this worn-out table, there was a cup of hot tea, emitting curling steam.

It seemed as if the owner had just left and would be back in a few minutes.

The cup of hot tea seemed to be a touch of warmth in this desolate place, bringing a sense of comfort to people in the cold winter. Its temperature was transmitted through the wall of the cup, so that when people's fingers touched the cup, they could feel a slight burning sensation.

The aroma of hot tea filled the air.

It was a light, comfortable smell. In this simple environment, this cup of hot tea became the only bright spot, which gave people warmth and strength, making them forget the dilapidated and simple surroundings.

The wind blew, sweeping across the desert, raising a wave of sand. Tiny grains of sand flew in the air, forming a yellow sandstorm.

Dark yellow rules the world at this time, shrouding the Sand Village in darkness.

The sand waves were filled with a pungent smell of blood, as if they had just experienced a fierce battle.

In fact, fighting is not a thing of the past.

But it is in present tense.

They are both Gaara, but their destructive power is completely different.

Where the wind blows, the sand and the smell of blood intertwine, forming a weird and suffocating atmosphere. The smell of blood is strong and deep, which reminds people of the cruelty of the battlefield and the shadow of death a few years ago.

Same monsters, same fears.

In this windy and sandy desert, everything becomes blurry and unreal. The view is blocked by the dust and only some vague outlines can be seen.

The silence of the desert was broken by the sound of wind and the smell of blood, as if telling of the fierce conflicts and endless sorrow that had once taken place here.

It's like, as sand, it originally didn't want to fight.

I don't like the taste of blood, even sand.

This bloody smell is a trace left by the battle, and perhaps a symbol of the passing of life.

In this vast desert, life is fragile and the wind is a ruthless witness.

In the quiet sand dunes, the sound of kunai colliding broke the silence. Two figures shuttled back and forth quickly, and the kunai in their hands intersected from time to time, flashing cold light.

Who is alive and who is dead?

On one side was a ninja in black night clothes, who was agile and nimble. Every time he swung his kunai, it was with a fierce momentum, as if he wanted to tear his opponent apart.

He was wearing a turban from the Wind Country, and the chakra string was tightly attached to the end of the kunai, making him look like an experienced master.

On the other side was a ninja dressed in white, his movements were graceful and smooth, as natural as flowing water.

Kunai is just a smoke screen.

What can really take people's lives is the fist technique hidden in the shadows and covered with chakra.

He has black hair and white eyes, and is a stranger.

The battle entered a white-hot stage. Sweat dripped from their foreheads and their breathing became rapid. But their movements were still precise, and every move was aimed at causing fatal damage to the opponent.

In this thrilling battle, who will be the final winner? Only time can tell.

The sand-colored monster let out a deep roar, and the sound echoed in the air, making people shudder. Its fangs gleamed coldly in the darkness, and its mouth dripped with disgusting saliva. Its huge and strong body caused the ground to shake with every step it took. The enemy seemed so small in front of it, and had no power to fight back.

He is half man, half monster.

The boy has not fully grown yet, and his thin body is out of place with the half-giant monster.

The monster suddenly opened its bloody mouth and pounced on the ninjas on the ground. Its claws were like sharp blades, easily tearing through the enemy's defenses. With screams and blood splattering, the scene was extremely bloody. The monster enjoyed this cruel killing to its heart's content, with a crazy light flashing in its eyes.

In this terrible battle, the monster displayed absolute power and cruelty, as if it was the embodiment of death.

Only the remaining half of the body seemed to be crying.

In a desolate ruin, the air was filled with smoke and the smell of death. The limbs of people killed by monsters were scattered everywhere, flying in the air like broken rag dolls.

Their faces still retained the fear and despair before death, their eyes were empty and lifeless. Blood was splattered like red rain, staining the ground and the surrounding scenery red.

These dead people seemed to be held up by an invisible force, floating slowly, forming a horrifying picture against the desolation of the ruins.

Even though ghosts do not exist, the sadness of the living will make up for it.

Faint moans were heard in the wind, as if the souls of the dead were wailing, telling of their grievances and unwillingness. The monster was looming in the distance, and its presence filled the land with fear and despair.

The boy's tears mixed with his blood and merged with the moonlight.

Deep in the quiet sand dunes, a mysterious light suddenly lit up. In the light, a hideous monster was tightly held by the young man in white and gradually disappeared into the air.

He had long known that he would be better off if he didn't know him.

It's okay, it's okay.

Neji looked at the masked ninja who was fighting him - without a doubt, it was Yashamaru.

His fingers gently wiped away the tears from Gaara's eyes, and his other hand quickly formed seals.

This is a big project.

The monster was huge, covered with yellow scales, and emitting a foul odor. Its eyes flashed with a fierce light, and a blazing flame spewed out of its mouth, as if it wanted to burn the whole world to ashes.

However, the young man in white was not afraid at all. He stood tall and straight, with a stern face, and his white clothes fluttered in the wind. His eyes did not reveal determination and courage, but boredom with everything now.

He is clearly a hero sent down from the sky, but now he is more desperate than a monster.

The boy held the monster's neck tightly, and no matter how the monster struggled, he never let go. Until the Flying Thunder God was completed, time started again. As the light became brighter and brighter, the monster's body gradually became blurred, and finally disappeared completely.

When the light faded, the desert returned to its tranquility.

Just half a minute later, the boy appeared again.

But this time, what he carried in his hands was not a monster.

Just a young boy with red hair.

The young man stood there quietly, looking at the ninja in front of him who was coming back to his senses from the disaster, and slowly handed the boy to the masked ninja next to him.

Who else could it be but Yashamaru?

“Hopefully we don’t meet at the wrong time.”

But when Yashamaru looked at the boy again, he had disappeared.

"002 Friendly reminder, transfer has started! Host, are you ready to move bricks?"