The 47th year of Konoha, Autumn.
Calendar Annotation: Auspicious for sacrifices, blessings, and enthronement.
Before dawn, a thin layer of morning mist enveloped the Fire Capital.
But the city had already awakened.
Countless civilians poured into the streets, dressed in their finest clothes, faces beaming with excitement, forming a human tide that surged toward the city center.
"Mom, hurry up! Sanrō said that today at the square, not only will there be blessing cakes, but Daimyo-sama's manor also prepared a huge pot of meat stew, and everyone gets a share!" a half-grown child shouted, tugging at his mother's sleeve.
"Run slower, don't fall!" the woman scolded, though her pace quickened. Looking at her son's new clothes, her face softened with maternal affection. "If it weren't for Daimyo-sama waiving those harsh taxes and the city workshops paying fair wages, let alone new clothes, we wouldn't even know how to survive this winter."
"Ha, food and clothing are nothing! The real thing is seeing Daimyo-sama with our own eyes!" a burly, bearded man nearby laughed loudly. "If not for Daimyo-sama, would we be living so well now? Hahaha!"
"Yes, yes, my family has meat with every meal now, all thanks to Daimyo-sama's grace!"
Laughter and chatter filled the air.
Brand new flame banners fluttered along the streets.
Armored guards stood at every intersection, their postures firm and eyes sharp, yet their presence made the civilians feel secure.
The sun pierced through the morning mist, casting golden light that gilded the city.
Today was the day the new king ascended the throne.
It was the day the Land of Fire turned a new page.
Unlike the festive crowd in the square, the mood on the viewing platform was much more restrained.
Envoys from the four great nations were already seated, and beneath their calm expressions, a silent tension lingered.
The envoy from Kumo stood with his arms crossed, his face full of impatience.
He looked at the dense crowd of civilians below, his expression openly disdainful. "A bunch of lowlifes, and they're allowed to witness a grand ceremony like this? The Land of Fire grows more unruly by the day."
The envoy from Iwa narrowed his eyes slightly, maintaining a calm composure.
The envoy from Suna had a weathered face and said nothing.
Behind him, a masked kunoichi vigilantly scanned the surroundings.
In the delegation from Kiri, the young noble yawned lazily, his face gloomy.
Jūzō stood behind him, head bowed, no one knowing what he was thinking.
From the corner of his eye, he occasionally glanced toward another guard, Mei Terumī.
She was dressed sharply today, highlighting her graceful figure. Her face was calm and aloof, though her heart was far from tranquil.
The sincere admiration and affection on the civilians' faces below puzzled her.
In her eyes, weren't Daimyo and nobles all bloodsuckers who exploited the common folk?
Why was the scene here completely different from what she had seen in Kiri?
On the other side, in Konoha's viewing area,
Minato sat at the forefront, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight.
Looking at the sea of people before him, each face filled with hope, a surge of emotion rose within him.
The will of the people was the foundation of the Land of Fire.
For the first time, he deeply felt the true weight of the words "nation" and "people."
Behind him, Hiruzen remained silent.
The old man wore plain clothes, holding an unlit pipe in his hand.
His cloudy eyes swept over the passionate civilians, then the alert guards, and finally rested on the ninety-nine steps leading up to the Supreme Throne.
That was once a place he had to look up to.
And now, he was about to lose even the right to do so.
In the corner, Danzō's single eye gleamed coldly.
His hands, hidden within his sleeves, were clenched tightly.
At the same time, on the east side of the square, in the underground wine cellar of a tavern.
It was dark and damp, filled with the sour stench of fermenting wine.
Nearly a hundred desperadoes were crammed inside, the stench of sweat mixed with the odor of poison smeared on their weapons, creating a nauseating air.
Shu and Takashi stood at the very front.
Through the cellar's small ventilation shaft, they could hear the cheers outside, growing louder and louder.
The sound was like red-hot iron needles piercing Shu's heart.
"Uncle, it's started outside." His voice trembled, lips pale.
Takashi's face was equally pale.
He gripped Shu's shoulder tightly, growling, "Stay calm. Remember the plan. Wait for the bells. When you hear the ninth bell, that's our signal to move."
Shu gritted his teeth, staring at the thin ray of light through the shaft, eyes bloodshot.
The throne, Yui, wealth, they should all be mine.
He roared silently in his heart again and again.
The cheers outside were like a death knell, and also the flame igniting his ambition.
Dong.
A deep, drawn-out bell chime echoed from the highest point of the Daimyo Manor, resounding across the entire city.
The noisy square instantly fell silent.
In the cellar, every desperado gripped their weapon tightly.
Shu's breathing nearly stopped.
One, two, three.
When the ninth bell reverberated across the sky, Takashi suddenly opened his eyes, madness flashing within them.
He said nothing, only raised his hand sharply and let out a suppressed roar.
"Attack!!"
Above the square, silence reigned.
Tens of thousands of civilians, the delegations of the four great nations, Konoha's high-ranking officials, all eyes turned to the end of the ninety-nine steps.
Under everyone's gaze, the heavy vermilion gate symbolizing supreme authority slowly opened.
Chief Ceremonial Officer Yamano, dressed in the most solemn ceremonial robes and holding the congratulatory text, walked out step by step.
He reached the top of the steps, facing the heavens and the gathered crowd, and chanted in a loud, clear voice.
"The auspicious hour has arrived."
"Welcome."
"The Land of Fire's new Daimyo, Chiba Arashi-sama."
As his words fell, impassioned and elegant music soared into the sky.
A figure appeared behind the vermilion gate.
He wore a ceremonial robe embroidered with golden flame patterns, a golden crown symbolizing the monarch's position upon his head.
Just by standing there silently, an indescribable majesty spread across the square.
The impatience on the Kumo envoy's face vanished, and his bulky frame instinctively leaned forward.
A sharp glint flickered in the Iwa envoy's eyes.
Minato was struck deeply.
That bearing, that overwhelming presence, he suddenly realized the gap between the Hokage and the Daimyo might be far greater than he had imagined.
Arashi moved.
His left foot stepped forward first.
He ascended the first step.
His pace was slow but steady.
Each step echoed solemnly in the silent square.
The civilians below unconsciously held their breath, faces full of reverence and awe.
Step after step, Arashi climbed the ninety-nine steps.
He arrived at the elevated platform carved from a single massive stone.
At the center of the platform, on a jade tray, a crystal completely crimson in color lay quietly.
The National Stone.
A symbol of the nation's supreme power.
Yamano's voice rang out again, trembling with excitement.
"Please, Daimyo-sama, accept the Nation's Stone, restore balance to the land and bring peace to its people."
Arashi slowly stepped forward.
He extended his hands, his movements solemn and deliberate.
The entire square was so quiet that even a pin drop could be heard.
Everyone widened their eyes, witnessing a moment destined for history.
Arashi's hands were about to touch the National Stone.
At that exact moment.
"Kill!!"
A blood-curdling roar erupted.
"Kill that usurping tyrant! Avenge the former Daimyo!!"
Boom.
The corner tower on the east side of the square exploded violently.
The terrifying blast swept away nearby civilians.
Dozens of dark figures burst out from the smoke.
They wielded long blades, eyes bloodshot, charging madly toward the platform.
Chaos erupted among the crowd.
Screams and cries echoed through the air.
"Protect Daimyo-sama!!"
The guards roared, forming a human wall against the attackers.
But this was only the beginning.
"Move out!"
From the crowds in the west, north, and south, another hundred ambushers suddenly erupted.
They formed a massive encirclement from all directions, their target clear, Arashi.
The gleam of blades, flashes of steel, and blood instantly stained the sacred square red.
An assassination attempt on the new king.
A long-planned murder plot, unfolding under the gaze of all.
Had begun.
(To be continued.)