197. Guardian Of Roran

As soon as he dispersed the chakra cloak, Uchiha Gin felt a wave of scorching heat hit him, instantly drying out his nasal passages and making it a bit harder to breathe.

"Ah! My hair!"

Noticing his already curly hair growing even drier under the hot wind, Gin grew anxious, furrowing his brows as he rummaged through his bag. Soon, he found something cold, and his face lit up as he quickly pulled it out.

"Heh, perfect timing!"

Gin pulled out a piece of gear glowing with a blue light. As it appeared, the surrounding heat was instantly dispelled, and a bone-chilling cold enveloped him, blocking out the hot wind.

Feeling the refreshing coolness, Gin hung the gear around his neck, admiring the intricate patterns on it with a satisfied look.

[Eternal Winter: Forms a "Winter's Barrier" when worn, slowing down all nearby enemies' attack speed and occasionally freezing them.]

Gin hadn’t expected that the Winter's Barrier could double as a personal air conditioner outside of battle.

He mentally gave this artifact a high rating—it seemed no equipment was truly useless.

...Except for the electric knife. That thing was just garbage.

With the Eternal Winter equipped, Gin no longer feared the heat of the Land of Wind.

He spotted a small village in the distance and, moving as quickly as the wind, headed toward his destination.

As he picked up speed, the village of Roran gradually came into view.

It was a simple camp, where locals had built clay houses that reflected the unique characteristics of the area.

It was mealtime, and thin plumes of smoke rose from several houses, painting a peaceful picture.

"Halt! Who are you, and where are you from?"

Just as Gin was about to step into the desert camp, two guards blocked his way.

Locals in the Land of Wind, regardless of gender, typically covered their faces with scarves and head wraps to shield against the sand and wind.

The two guards in front of him were dressed in typical Land of Wind attire—simple robes, with cracked, rough hands gripping crude spears.

Their faces were wrapped in gray cloth, leaving only their black eyes exposed, which now watched Gin warily, as if sensing an intimidating aura from him.

"I’m a traveling passerby," Gin replied. "I saw signs of life here and thought I could get some supplies."

Seeing that these two posed no threat, Gin had no intention of causing trouble.

His mission was just to investigate, not to start a massacre. All he needed was a quick look around and some notes.

"Where’s your luggage?"

Naturally, the guards were skeptical of his story. Looking at the empty-handed Gin, one of them gathered his courage and asked.

Who goes traveling with nothing on them? And someone wandering deep in the desert with such fair skin—definitely suspicious.

"Uh, I ran into a sandstorm not long ago and lost my luggage and horse."

Awkwardly scratching his face, Gin realized he didn’t look much like a weathered traveler and had to keep up the act.

“Then wait here while I report to the captain. He’ll decide what to do.”

Although the guards were weak, they weren’t entirely clueless.

They exchanged a cautious glance, and one of them quickly headed into the camp, while the other stayed behind, nervously watching Gin and gripping his spear, which shook slightly in his hands.

"Am I that scary?"

This was the second group of people from the Land of Wind he’d encountered today, and they seemed as skittish as the caravan guards had been.

Gin couldn’t help but feel a bit puzzled.

It wasn’t as if he had "main character" written on his face.

So why did people look at him as if his aura alone demanded respect, trembling at the sight?

"S-sir, please don’t make things difficult for me. I have a newborn daughter at home... please be merciful."

At Gin’s inquiry, the guard’s legs nearly gave out. The stranger’s aura was overwhelming, leaving him breathless. Not even facing his captain made him feel this way.

Gin didn’t realize that simply activating the Tenseigan mode left residual pressure lingering around him, even after deactivation.

He couldn’t feel it, but to ordinary ninjas, the deep, terrifying aura was quite apparent.

"Well, congratulations! Daughters are their fathers' little treasures."

Not wanting to stir up trouble, Gin chatted casually with the remaining guard, who gradually relaxed as their conversation continued, mostly centered around the guard’s newborn daughter.

“Heh, my little Chiyo is the cutest in the world!”

"Yes, yes... huh? What's your daughter's name?"

As they continued chatting, the guard mentioned his newborn daughter's name. Uchiha Gin raised an eyebrow, glancing subtly at the guard's light purple hair peeking out from under his headscarf, and asked for confirmation.

"Chiyo, isn’t it a lovely name?"

"It is! Your daughter will surely become a strong ninja one day."

Gin replied in a somewhat mysterious tone, recalling a swimsuit scene from an old mobile game in his previous life.

The memory made his eyes sting with nostalgia.

“Lord Gin…” After a bit more conversation, the guard realized Gin had no ill intentions, so he cautiously leaned closer and whispered.


"Thank you, but just call me Gin." Gin, not one for fancy titles, immediately corrected him with a wave.

"Uh… Mr. Gin, when our captain arrives, please don’t be put off by his appearance. He’s actually a good man with a kind heart under that cold exterior."

Appearance? Just what does he look like to cause that reaction?

This piqued Gin’s curiosity, so he decided to wait for the captain’s arrival.

Soon, a team approached from a distance, kicking up a cloud of dust as they hurried to the camp’s entrance.

"Is this the scary person you mentioned?" A harsh voice sounded from the cloud of dust before it had even settled.

As the dust cleared, the first thing that caught Gin’s eye was a shining bald head. Once the dust fully settled, the owner of that bald head revealed himself.

A towering, muscular man stood at the front of the team, his narrow eyes holding a frightening gleam. His lack of eyebrows added an extra chill to his appearance. However, the most striking feature wasn’t his fierce face—it was the blue dragon tattoo covering his bald head, with its black claw resting just above his right eye, exuding an intimidating aura.

"Just an ordinary guy. Are you slacking off on the job?" The tattooed bald man glanced up and down at Gin, seeing nothing remarkable, then turned to harshly rebuke the guard who had gone to inform him.

“Uh... something feels different. Maybe I just haven’t had enough rest lately…” The guard scratched his head, embarrassed, noticing the calm demeanor Gin now displayed.

"Hmph, slacking off, huh? Looks like you need a good punishment. Starting today, take a week off to reflect at home. Come back when you’re alert!"

Gin was surprised; he expected this fierce-looking captain to give the guard a harsh punishment, but instead, he’d spoken with a warm-hearted tone.

A week off? Most people wouldn’t even dare dream of that!

“Thank you, Captain Shamon. I’ll reflect well!”

No one around seemed surprised by Shamon’s reaction, not even the guard being “punished.”

Gin now understood why the guard had warned him earlier—Shamon was indeed a good man beneath his intimidating exterior.

Wait… Shamon?

The closer he got to his goal, the more familiar faces he seemed to encounter, stirring a sense of anticipation in Gin’s heart.

“Who are you, and what business do you have in Roran?”

After reprimanding his subordinate, Shamon turned to Gin with his browless brow furrowed, observing the strange look on Gin’s face.

“I’m a traveler roaming the lands. I got separated from my companions in a recent sandstorm, and I lost my luggage and horse.”

Gin repeated his story, his dead-fish eyes brimming with sincerity.

“Where are you from, and what’s the purpose of your travels?”

Curiosity flickered in Shamon’s narrow eyes. Though he was the captain of the Roran guard, a respected figure in the tribe, he had never left the Land of Wind in his twenty-odd years of life. The outside world intrigued him.

“Uh, I’m a monk from the East… I mean, I’m a traveler from the Land of Fire. My purpose? To document local customs and meet interesting people.”

Almost slipping up, Gin quickly corrected himself and gave a thoughtful, sincere answer.

“Ah, the prosperous Land of Fire… So, how long have you been in the Land of Wind?”

When Gin mentioned the Land of Fire, a look of longing appeared in Shamon’s eyes, though it quickly faded.

"Not long. Since there’s a war, I haven’t stayed in one place."

Gin shrugged, providing a reasonable explanation.

“They’re still at it, huh? How’s the war going?”

It was strange; Roran had long remained isolated, staying out of the Land of Wind’s clan conflicts. But Shamon was different—he had dreams and ambitions, wanting to make his mark on history by stepping into the Land of Wind’s turbulent struggles.

Unfortunately, he was Roran’s guardian, bound to protect their most mysterious treasure, unable to ever leave.

“As far as I know, a man named Reto is gaining fame. He may have a chance at uniting the Wind Country’s ninja clans.”