Corpse Collector of Konoha

Chapter 57: Beast Human Clone Ninjustu

Three chances left.

Qifeng examined his options like a shopper browsing clearance items. One corpse practically glowed with potential—a yellow aura that screamed "premium loot." The deceased was clearly Konoha, family ninja judging by the distinctive facial markings.

Red inverted triangles on his cheeks, like fangs frozen in death.

"Inuzuka clan?" Qifeng squinted at the tribal tattoos. Made sense—there was a massive dog corpse nearby, probably the guy's partner. In the Inuzuka clan, calling your ninja dog a "pet" was like calling your arm a "convenient appendage." They were family, complete with spots on the family tree.

The Inuzuka were basically humans who'd gotten stuck halfway through evolution, closer to beasts than most people cared to admit. Wild, intuitive, and utterly devoted to their four-legged partners.

"Problem is," Qifeng mused, "I don't have a dog. Or any summoning beast. Even if I get this guy's techniques, what am I supposed to do? Bark at my enemies?"

His expectations weren't unreasonable. Just a simple attribute boost, maybe some generic enhancement. Basic stuff.

He placed his hand on the corpse.

[Fail!]

[Fail!]

"Come on," Qifeng muttered. "I'm not asking for the moon here. Just a little chakra bump."

Last chance of the day.

[Success! Obtained Secret Technique - Beast Human Clone Ninjutsu Card!]

"..."

Qifeng stared at the notification like it had personally insulted his mother. Of all the useless—

"I literally just said I don't have a dog." He scrubbed his face with both hands. Some cosmic force was definitely laughing at him.

Although... an unbidden image flashed through his mind. Something involving the technique's name and his previous life's unfortunate exposure to certain Japanese artistic productions.

He shook his head violently. "Damn internet. Corrupted my innocent mind."

[Learned Secret Technique - Beast Human Clone!]

Still had to use it, obviously. Maybe he'd acquire a summoning beast later. Hell, once his Sharingan evolved to three-tomoe, he could probably steal a tailed beast from the Akatsuki. Two-beast combo attack had a nice ring to it.

"Wait." A thought struck him like lightning. "Beast Human Clone... but humans are beasts too, right? Technically speaking?" His eyes drifted to the human puppet project collecting dust in the corner. "What if..."

He pulled out a scroll marked "Earth," breaking the seal to reveal Tuhe's modified corpse. Still a work in progress—bones replaced with his own kekkei genkai material, most systems incomplete. But functional enough for experimentation.

Qifeng formed hand seals.

"Shadow Clone Technique!"

*Bang!*

White smoke cleared, revealing his doppelganger. They stared at each other for a moment before grinning simultaneously.

"Ready for some questionable science?" the original asked.

"Do I have a choice?" the clone replied.

"Well, you could refuse, but—"

"I'm a shadow clone. I literally exist to do stupid dangerous things you won't."

"Exactly." Qifeng gestured toward the puppet. "Your sacrifice will be remembered."

"Will it though?"

The clone approached Tuhe with visible reluctance, placing a hand on the puppet's shoulder. Chakra began flowing between them as he focused on the new technique.

"Secret Technique! Beast Human Clone!"

*Bang!*

More smoke, more anticipation. The shadow clone vanished, leaving the puppet apparently unchanged.

Then Tuhe's eyes snapped open.

"Well," the puppet said conversationally, "this is interesting."

"Holy shit, it worked." Qifeng blinked in amazement. The combination of Inuzuka techniques and Shadow Clone jutsu had somehow bridged the gap between puppet and consciousness.

The puppet now possessed his memories, his tactical knowledge, his chakra signature. Most of his ninjutsu would be accessible, though bloodline abilities remained locked to the original body. Once completed, this thing would potentially surpass his base capabilities.

"I'm definitely stronger than you right now," the puppet announced smugly.

Qifeng rolled his eyes. "The body isn't even finished yet. Besides, aren't we technically the same person?"

"This consciousness thing is fascinating." The puppet flexed experimental fingers. "You should try being dead sometime. Very liberating."

"I'll experience it when you dispel."

"Right, forgot about the memory transfer."

They regarded each other with mutual amusement and slight concern. Talking to yourself was weird enough; talking to your corpse-puppet-self crossed several new lines.

"If we're doing this properly," the puppet mused, "I'll need some Sharingan. Three-tomoe minimum."

"'I'? Already claiming individual identity?"

Qifeng found the development both amusing and mildly disturbing. But strategically sound—strengthening the puppet meant strengthening himself.

"Sharingan aren't exactly common," he said, "but if the opportunity arises..."

From now on, the puppet could handle the flashy heroics while he stayed safely in the background. Perfect division of labor.

---

**Iwagakure Village - Tsuchikage Building**

The Third Tsuchikage Ōnoki sat behind his desk like a stone gargoyle, radiating barely contained fury. The ninja kneeling before him seemed to shrink under that withering glare.

"Failure?" Ōnoki's voice could have carved granite. "Explain. Now."

"Lord Tsuchikage," the messenger stammered, sweat beading on his forehead, "even Tuhe-sama fell in battle. Orochimaru's power exceeded all projections."

"Tuhe." The name tasted bitter. Losing a jōnin of his caliber wasn't just a strategic blow—it was a catastrophic intelligence leak waiting to happen. Tuhe knew too much about Iwagakure's war plans.

But something didn't add up.

"Even against Orochimaru, Tuhe should have been able to retreat." Ōnoki's frown deepened. "He wasn't the type to die gloriously."

The messenger's composure cracked further. "Actually... it wasn't Orochimaru who killed Tuhe-sama. When the situation deteriorated, Tuhe-sama did attempt withdrawal. He was killed by... by a..."

"By a what?!" The Tsuchikage's patience had evaporated entirely.

"A mysterious ninja."

Ōnoki's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Mysterious?"

Independent operators with jōnin-killing capabilities weren't exactly common. This was either a very dangerous mercenary or someone playing a much deeper game.

"Additional intelligence on this 'mysterious ninja'?"

"Minimal, Lord Tsuchikage."

"Dismissed." Ōnoki waved him away like an annoying insect.

Once alone with his son, Ōnoki turned to the mountain of muscle occupying the adjacent chair.

"Kitsuchi, your assessment?"

The younger man rose with enthusiasm. "Father! Let me deploy immediately! I'll crush every Konoha force in the field!"

Ōnoki felt a familiar migraine developing. His son had inherited his determination and courage, but apparently all the family's intellectual capacity had skipped a generation. Sometimes he wondered if there was a neighbor named Wang who might explain certain genetic discrepancies.

"The advance force took heavy casualties," Ōnoki explained patiently. "Continuing aggressive operations against Konoha benefits no one except the Cloud ninja, who are conveniently remaining neutral while we exhaust ourselves."

"Don't worry, Father! I'll finish Konoha so quickly they won't have time to reinforce!"

Kitsuchi seemed absolutely convinced he could single-handedly defeat the legendary Sannin. His confidence was either inspiring or terrifying—Ōnoki couldn't decide which.

I should have had daughters, the Tsuchikage thought despairingly.

"Listen carefully," he said aloud. "Konoha is now fully aware of our capabilities. Their main force is undoubtedly mobilizing. Our role is containment—maintain pressure by occupying Taki Country, force them to split their attention."

He paused for emphasis. "Let the Sand ninja exhaust themselves first."

"Understood," Kitsuchi replied sullenly.

"You'll lead the main force to the front lines," Ōnoki continued, "but under no circumstances will you initiate offensive operations without direct orders. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Father."

Ōnoki watched his son lumber away and wondered if strategic patience could be taught through blunt force trauma. Probably not, but it might be worth experimenting.