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Chapter 189: Well-Behaved and Sensible
The Fire Daimyo's threats echoed through the ruined hall, sounding pathetic against the backdrop of his trembling fat.
"Konoha... Konoha has thousands of shinobi! They have the strongest Hokage! If you touch me, they will tear you to pieces!"
He screamed hysterically, trying to drown out his own terror.
Dragon stood still, his expression unchanged. He looked at the ruler at his feet as if he were looking at a pile of unrecyclable trash.
"The Five Great Nations?"
Dragon didn't even draw a weapon. He simply took one step forward.
That single step sent En'ichi scrambling backward on all fours, knocking over a screen.
"Let them come."
Dragon's voice wasn't loud, but it easily drowned out the thunder outside.
"Before this filthy old era is buried, I think they would be very interested to see who has been treating them like disposable tools."
"What do you want? What do you actually want?!"
The Daimyo was cornered, his sweat soaking the gold-leaf wallpaper behind him.
He looked at the approaching Dragon, his fear finally breaking the dam of his reason. His voice became shrill and twisted.
"You don't want money, you don't want power, then what is left?!"
He even tried to use his logic as a ruler to understand this madman.
"Shinobi... Shinobi are just tools for killing! You are the dogs we keep! Since when do dogs bite their masters?!"
Daimyo En'ichi waved his hands, which were covered in jeweled rings, spitting as he spoke.
"Without our money, without our missions, what will you eat? What will you drink? Your shtty village can't even grow crops! What can you do besides kill?!"
"If you stop now, I'll give you double... no, triple the pay! I'll give all the Land of Fire's missions to Amegakure! I can fire those Konoha fools right now!"
Dragon stopped.
He looked at the slumped, hideous man, his eyes devoid of emotion, as if looking at a toad dead in the road.
Tools.
Dogs.
Such familiar words.
Whether on the vast seas facing the Celestial Dragons, or in this world of chakra facing these Daimyos.
The arrogance of power never changed.
"Tools, you say..."
Dragon repeated the word softly, and the temperature in the hall seemed to drop.
He slowly crouched down, meeting En'ichi's eyes.
The suffocating sensation of being locked on by a predator seized the Daimyo's throat, choking back his next insult.
"You're wrong."
Dragon reached out, lightly patting the Daimyo's greasy cheek.
"In this world, no one is born a tool."
Flick.
A light snap of his finger against the Daimyo's forehead.
But that small movement sent a shock through the Daimyo's body, as if his soul had been pierced.
"And no one is born to be your dog."
Dragon stood up, turning his back on the shivering man to look at the storm outside.
"Those who bleed on the battlefield, those who labor in the fields, those who strike the anvil in the forge... every living soul has the right to stand tall, even in the middle of a storm."
"And you—this pack of parasites clinging to their backs—you gorge yourselves on their blood, and then have the audacity to despise your hosts for being 'lowly'."
Dragon's voice was terrifyingly calm, yet it struck like thunder in the ears of everyone present.
Even Yahiko, standing behind him, felt his body tremble.
He had never heard such words.
In the Land of Rain, a country ravaged by war, they were born to endure, to survive in the cracks. No one had ever told him that they didn't have to be tools. They didn't have to be dogs.
"Take them."
Dragon flicked his wrist as if disposing of junk.
As the Daimyo opened his mouth to scream, paper instantly sealed his lips, binding his entire body until only his terrified, bulging eyes were visible.
"What about this one?"
Yahiko pointed at Duke Kazama, who was huddled in the corner.
The Duke was no longer a noble; he was hugging a table leg and shaking, his eyes darting around for an exit.
"Kill him?"
Yahiko's hand moved to his sword, his killing intent flared.
Though Dragon's words had moved him, he felt only pure disgust for these nobles who treated lives like grass.
Duke Kazama's face went white. He nearly fainted.
"Don't... don't kill me! I have money too! I... I'm not like the Daimyo, I respect shinobi!"
He waved his hands frantically, stammering his defense.
Dragon glanced at him.
"Don't kill him."
"Take them both."
"Take them?" Yahiko blinked. "What's the point? Isn't it a waste of food?"
"One piece isn't heavy enough."
Dragon turned, his black raincoat snapping in the wind.
"If we're going to flip the board, we need to pull all the players down."
"There isn't just one Daimyo in this world, and there isn't just one Duke."
Dragon walked to the shattered gate, looking into the black night. His lips curled into a cold, sharp arc.
"The Daimyos of the Five Great Nations. I want all of them."
"Only when these so-called masters of the world are forced to crawl on the ground like dogs and beg for their lives..."
"Only then will the world finally be quiet enough to listen to what we have to say."
Within the Golden Pavilion, the deathly silence was broken.
"Move out."
Dragon's command left no room for argument.
Konan nodded and raised her pale palm.
Whoosh—!
The countless slips of paper covering the walls and floors responded to her call, swarming like a white hive toward the slumped men.
"Mmph! Mmph!!"
Daimyo En'ichi stared in horror as the unnatural paper covered his body. He twisted his massive frame like a landed catfish, trying to break free.
It was useless.
Layer upon layer of paper bound his limbs and sealed the mouth that was only used to bark orders.
In the blink of an eye, the ruler of the Land of Fire was wrapped like a white human mummy, with only his nostrils left clear to huff in panicked breaths.
Duke Kazama didn't even try to struggle.
He knew that if he moved, the man at the door would break his neck. He curled into a ball and let the paper wrap him, even going so far as to cross his own arms behind his back.
Sensible.
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