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Chapter 187: The Predators
The Fire Daimyo's Estate, Golden Pavilion.
There was no eternal gloom of the Land of Rain here, nor the sickening stench of blood from the border trenches.
Everywhere one looked, there was gold and splendor.
The smoke of premium agarwood rose in curls, swirling beneath a dome painted with celestial maidens, scenting the hall like a paradise.
Dozens of dancers in revealing silks moved gracefully to the sound of flutes and strings, their fair skin glowing like ivory under the candlelight.
In the center of the hall, upon a massive red sandalwood table, sat not a treatise on governance, but a detailed military map of the Shinobi world.
The map was covered in pieces representing various forces.
"Excellent!"
A burst of laughter shattered the elegance of the music.
Fire Daimyo En'ichi's round face was flushed red. He held a glowing jade cup, his bloated body sinking into a soft fur-lined couch.
Seated across from him was not a Fire Country minister, but a lean, middle-aged man in a pale green silk robe and a tall crown.
The sleeve of that robe bore the crest of the Land of Wind.
While their soldiers were slaughtering one another at the border, the nobles of the two nations were drinking together in peace.
"Brother Kazama, that 'lure the enemy deep' move was played beautifully."
Daimyo En'ichi pointed to a red 'X' on the map at the Land of Rain border, his fat face shaking with laughter.
"My foolish Konoha subordinates actually poured three entire companies into that trap just to seize that so-called outpost."
The Wind Country noble, Duke Kazama, took an elegant sip of wine, a reserved smile on his lips.
"You're too kind, Brother En'ichi. If you hadn't ordered Konoha to slow their advance, my puppet brigade wouldn't have had the chance to complete the encirclement."
Duke Kazama casually grabbed a handful of gold dust and sprinkled it over the pieces representing Sunagakure.
"In this battle, Sunagakure lost two Jonin, but Konoha lost over three hundred Chunin and Genin. According to our wager..."
He raised his eyelids, looking at the Fire Daimyo with a knowing smirk.
"I win this round."
Daimyo En'ichi waved it off dismissively, as if three hundred lives were nothing more than three hundred ants.
"I know when I've lost! The emerald mine to the west is yours."
Waitresses hurried forward to refill their wine. The Daimyo pulled a dancer into his lap, pouring wine over her collarbone before leaning down to lick it off, prompting a chorus of lewd laughter.
"However, Brother Kazama."
The Daimyo looked up, his eyes bleary with drink, pointing to the grey area in the center of the map—the Land of Rain.
"That place has been noisy lately. I heard that old man Hanzo is getting restless?"
Duke Kazama scoffed disdainfully, picking up a piece of translucent sashimi with his chopsticks.
"A watchdog died, that's all. We'll just get a new one."
"A bunch of ignorant peasants."
The Daimyo let out a drunken burp, his eyes full of contempt.
"They think holding hostages will make us hesitate? I've already ordered Konoha to deploy. Such disobedient insects should simply be crushed."
Duke Kazama nodded, raising his glass.
"Coincidentally, my Sunagakure forces are nearby as well. Why don't we wager again?"
"Oh? On what?" The Daimyo's interest was piqued.
"On... how many days those insects can hold out."
Duke Kazama held up three fingers.
"Three days. I bet Amegakure will be razed to the ground within three days. The stakes? How about that tea plantation in your southern border?"
"Hahaha! Deal! I bet one day!"
The Daimyo pounded the table excitedly, shaking the map pieces.
"Konoha's 'Sannin' might not be there, but that Danzo is a ruthless one. Within a day, I want to hear that Amegakure has fallen!"
The two men laughed together, clinking their glasses heavily.
The crisp sound of crystal rang through the luxurious hall.
.....
Outside the Golden Pavilion, a sudden torrential rain began.
It rarely rained this hard in the capital of the Land of Fire; it was as if the sorrow of the Land of Rain had been forcibly transported here.
In the shadows of the estate's outer wall, four figures stood like ghosts.
Yahiko stared at the warm light emanating from the Golden Pavilion, listening to the laughter inside, his teeth gritting so hard they creaked.
His nails dug deep into his palms, blood dripping into the mud.
Nagato's Rinnegan, hidden by his long hair, flickered with a cold, ghostly light.
Konan's face was pale, her paper wet from the rain, yet it remained as sharp as a blade.
"Do you hear it?"
Dragon's voice was soft, masked by the rain, yet it reached their ears clearly.
"This is the truth behind the 'peace' you've been desperate to protect."
Yahiko looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his voice trembling. "They are... gambling?"
"Gambling with lives."
Dragon turned, looking past the high wall at the palace that remained brightly lit despite the storm.
"The shinobi at the front shed their blood and die to protect their country, while civilians lose their homes and starve to death."
"And the men who started the war are here, drinking with the enemy nobility, using the lives of soldiers as tavern talk and bargaining chips."
"This world is sick beyond measure."
Boom!
A bolt of lightning split the night sky, illuminating Dragon's face, which was as cold as iron.
"Yahiko, you asked me why I would go this far."
Dragon reached out, catching the cold rainwater.
"Because on this rotten chessboard, the pieces can never win. Whether Konoha wins or Suna wins, the players will always be clinking their glasses in celebration."
"The only way is to flip the table."
Yahiko took a deep breath. The last of his hesitation vanished, replaced by an unprecedented resolve.
The thing called "naivety" died in that moment.
"Senior Matsu, give the order."
Dragon's eyes sharpened.
"Two of the Twelve are at the main gate, four are at the outposts. Nagato, you handle the sensing and jam their barrier. Konan, cut off all communications."
"Yahiko, come with me through the front door."
"We're going to give the Daimyo a 'special gift'."
.....
Main Gate, Golden Pavilion.
Two elite Jonin, wearing "Fire" sashes, were guarding the entrance with bored expressions.
As personal bodyguards to the Daimyo, the Guardian Shinobi Twelve held immense status and power.
"This shtty weather."
The Jonin on the left complained, adjusting the sword at his waist.
"It's a party inside. I heard Duke Kazama brought a group of dancers from the Western Regions today..."
Before he could finish, a dark figure emerged from the rain.
The person wore a heavy black raincoat, a hood concealing most of their face. Their pace was steady and unhurried, yet they made no sound as they stepped through the puddles.
"Halt!"
The Jonin on the right immediately went on alert, shuriken sliding into his grip.
"This is the Daimyo's Estate. Trespassers will be executed!"
The dark figure didn't stop.
"Are you deaf?!"
The Jonin on the left roared, his chakra exploding as he lunged forward like lightning. His blade sliced through the storm, aimed squarely at the intruder's neck.
It was a swift, lethal strike, capable of severing steel.
However...
The figure merely tilted his body slightly.
The movement was minimal, yet it perfectly avoided the blade.
An instant later, a hand coated in a pitch-black sheen reached out without flourish.
Crack.
Before the Jonin could react, the hand clamped onto his throat like an iron vise.
Terrifying grip strength erupted.
The sound of a snapping neck was muffled by the rain.
The elite Jonin couldn't even scream; his body went limp instantly and was tossed aside like trash.
"What?!"
The remaining Jonin's pupils shrunk in horror.
One move?
That was a man of the Guardian Twelve!
He hadn't even seen the intruder weave a single sign!
"Enemy att—!"
Just as he tried to sound the alarm, the water on the ground rose unnaturally.
Countless white slips of paper flew out from the rain like butterflies, instantly sealing his mouth and nose while binding his limbs.
Asphyxiation set in.
He struggled in terror, only to find the seemingly fragile paper was as tough as steel.
Pfft.
A kunai pierced his heart with surgical precision.
Yahiko stepped out from the shadows, pulling the blade free. Blood splashed across his young face, but he didn't wipe it away.
His gaze was terrifyingly cold.
"Cleared."
Konan's form solidified amidst the fluttering paper. She glanced at the corpses and whispered, "Nagato has masked the barrier. They haven't noticed inside."
Dragon stepped over the bodies toward the heavy golden doors.
He didn't push.
Instead, he raised his right fist.
Black Armament Haki coiled around his knuckles, emitting a faint, dark-red glow.
"From this day forth, the landscape of the Shinobi world changes forever."
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