The Perfect Sword
There are no shinobi in the Land of Iron—only samurai.
Though these samurai, like ninja, possess chakra of various natures, the way they utilize it in combat is fundamentally different.
Ninja mold chakra into ninjutsu and genjutsu to overwhelm their opponents.
Samurai, on the other hand, channel their chakra directly into their swords, generating an invisible extension of the blade known as sword aura (kenki).
However, this unique style has its limits.
Especially during the Fourth Great Ninja War, when massive-scale ninjutsu and tailed beast techniques dominated the battlefield, the samurai's combat effectiveness paled in comparison.
Even Mifune, the strongest samurai and general of the Land of Iron, could only hold his ground against powerful shinobi like Hanzo the Salamander through superior swordsmanship and willpower.
"Still... if I can master their style, maybe quantity can lead to a qualitative transformation," Xu Fan mused silently as he followed from the rear of the group.
I have more chakra than the average shinobi. If I infuse it into a blade and form a sword aura... could it evolve into something like Excalibur?
I'll have to find a chance to test it.
As Xu Fan's thoughts spiraled, Rikaku led their group through a dense forest, arriving at a quiet township nestled within the snowy terrain of the Land of Iron.
As Mifune's personal escort, Rikaku had already arranged accommodations for Sarutobi Hiruzen and his delegation.
"Mifune-sama extends his regards. He hopes you'll rest well tonight. The diplomatic talks will begin tomorrow," Rikaku said with practiced courtesy.
Though the Land of Iron lacked the power of the Five Great Nations, it held firm as a neutral country, untouched by the major conflicts plaguing the shinobi world. That neutrality gave them an aura of quiet confidence.
Even when receiving figures like the Hokage or Raikage, Mifune did not attend personally at first. He allowed his trusted guards to manage arrangements until the formal meeting.
"I understand," Hiruzen nodded, accepting the arrangement.
"Then I'll take my leave. I must report back to Mifune-sama." Rikaku bowed in samurai fashion to the entire group, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.
"I'm exhausted, Hokage-sama," Xu Fan said as he watched Rikaku go. He yawned dramatically, clearly eager to retreat. "I'll get some rest now."
"Very well," Hiruzen said kindly. "You've all had a long journey. Rest up."
"Yes, Hokage-sama," Yamanaka Kaze added before slipping into his room.
Xu Fan said nothing further, quietly withdrawing to his own quarters.
Though the Land of Iron was not wealthy, Mifune's leadership ensured peace and prosperity for its citizens. The rooms were simple but immaculate, everything arranged with an artisan's precision.
Xu Fan sat cross-legged on the tatami mat and closed his eyes.
Though he possessed Hashirama's chakra, complete mastery of the five basic nature transformations, and even Wood Release, sensory perception remained his weak point. Often, even in close proximity, he couldn't distinguish chakra signatures accurately.
Thankfully, he had a solution: the Byakugan.
Activating the dōjutsu, his vision expanded to a full 360-degree range, allowing him to ensure no one was spying on him.
Once the room was clear, Xu Fan focused his attention and summoned a weapon from his inventory: a Shikai-less Zanpakutō.
Though he rarely used traditional weapons, he wasn't unfamiliar with them. Gripping the hilt firmly, he slashed forward experimentally.
"It doesn't feel any different from a normal blade…" Xu Fan muttered.
He began channeling chakra into the blade, curious to see whether he could awaken some transformation—whether the sword might become a true Zanpakutō.
But nothing happened.
"As expected… I only just acquired it. It's too early for a real transformation."
Xu Fan sighed and withdrew his chakra. The silver-white blade remained inert.
Worse, the system that gifted him the blade hadn't even provided a proper scabbard.
"Still, this is the Land of Iron. Every samurai here wears layered armor and carries at least two blades. Their blacksmithing should be top-tier."
The sun was still up. Xu Fan glanced out the window.
I'll go for a walk.
Hooking the blade onto his waist, he stepped out into the town.
Despite the cold and snow, the streets were lively. Merchants called out from their stalls, and pedestrians moved about with purpose. Despite its neutrality and isolation, the Land of Iron was far from stagnant.
More importantly, the craftsmanship on display was unmistakably samurai: polished blades, ornate hilts, reinforced armor.
Xu Fan didn't even need directions—he spotted a prominent blacksmith's shop within moments.
He entered casually.
"Welcome!" the blacksmith said cheerfully, but his eyes immediately locked onto the sword at Xu Fan's side.
One glance, and the man froze. His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.
"That sword…" he murmured.
He swallowed hard, eyes trembling.
He was one of the most respected blacksmiths in the Land of Iron. Most of the samurai corps used weapons forged by his hands. He had never, in his life, called a weapon perfect—because in his mind, perfection was the enemy of progress. Each blade was just a step toward the next.
To declare a weapon perfect was to deny future growth.
Yet the moment he saw Xu Fan's sword, all those beliefs cracked.
"Perfect…"
That single word escaped his lips involuntarily.
No other word seemed sufficient.
"May I… may I take a closer look?" he asked, his voice reverent.
His hands trembled as he wiped them with his apron, eyes gleaming like a child seeing their dream toy up close.
Xu Fan blinked.
Is this sword… really that amazing?