Ryozan smirked at the Imperials' first futile attempt to pierce his armor. The fools had decided to attack en mass, which only made things easier. Swords, kunai, and knives all glanced off of his icy armor, and they soon learned that his technique was far stronger than normal ice. One swing of Ryozan's arm resulted in a slit throat, and a kick tore open another soldier's stomach, then while cloaked in his Kekkei Genkai he drew his sword and the blood truly began to flow. Normally, a swordsman would be limited only to attacks that would allow him to maintain a defense, but in this form he was relieved of such limitations. He could fight like a Berserker without worrying about sustaining damage from the ferocious style. His enemies' attacks landed, but they did nothing; his attacks landed as well, and every one of them decorated the air with a crimson streak. If the soldiers wanted a battle of attrition, their probability of winning was zero.
However, Ryozan heard an ominous hiss in the nick of time. Explosive tags... now they were getting the right idea. Unfortunately, they were employing it in such a dimwitted way that neutralizing their plans would be but a simple matter. A few soldiers at used the opening their comrades gave them to stick three explosive tags on Ryozan's armor. A good effort, but irrelevant. "Mō Fubuki no Jutsu!" Ryozan rapidly formed a few seals, and a glacial wind suddenly erupted around him. The frigid temperature extinguished the explosive tags, the wind ripped them from off of his body, and the shards of ice tore them to tatters. Needless to say, the soldiers that had just attempted a close range attack fared only marginally better than the tags. After the winds subsided, a couple dozen corpses littered the ground, and Ryozan stood amidst it all, dripping with the blood of his enemies.
There was one soldier who had survived that attack, however, and Ryozan recognized that face. It was the very man he had rescued not long ago, the same man who gave him the scroll that was still resting in his pocket. The man's eyes were wide with terror; clearly he didn't recognize the shinobi that was slaughtering his men. Why should he? There was no Imperial sympathizer here; all he saw was a blood-soaked frozen blade, Tōketsuha. Perhaps Ryozan could spur his memory in his last hours. He released a small portion of his armor, just enough to let him remove the scroll from his pocket and hold it out before the terrified soldier. That did the trick, now it was all coming back to him. The Imperial immediately began pleading with Ryozan, appealing to both pity and reason, but the time when that would have worked had passed. "I'm ready to submit my decision," Ryozan said as he tossed the scroll into the air. Then, as it fell, he raised his sword and stabbed through the scroll, and directly into the Imperial's chest. The look on the recruiter's face as he died was pitiful.
That matter settled, Ryozan removed his blade from the officer's chest and sheathed it, ready to decimate the next wave of troops he encountered on his forward march.