100 PS
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Daimyo Manor, study.
Arashi sat at the table.
A top-secret report, urgently sent by Minato, lay open before him.
The report meticulously detailed the reactions of various Konoha clans to the two plans.
The Uchiha were fanatical.
The Ino–Shika–Chō were vigilant.
The Hyuga were submissive.
Everything was as expected.
As long as the correct instructions were given, these ninja reactions were clearly predictable.
Then, his gaze fell on the end of the dossier.
It recorded the situation of the Shimura clan.
Arashi had not really decided how to deal with this clan.
Perhaps Danzō's death had put pressure on them.
Looking at the words "at your disposal" on the list, Arashi could not help but smile.
There was one more sentence at the end of the dossier.
""Is there still a path for the descendants of a criminal to serve the country?"
This made the amusement in Arashi's eyes grow even deeper.
Interesting.
Those pushed to a dead end, it seemed, could see their place more clearly than those affluent clans who had enjoyed smooth sailing.
Gen beside him noticed his lord's change in mood and immediately lowered his head, softening his breathing.
Whenever the lord showed such an expression, it meant that someone's fate was about to be rewritten.
"Gen."
"Your servant is here."
"Tell me, how should I deal with them?"
"Your servant is dull-witted and dares not speak rashly."
"Speak when I tell you to, I pardon you of any offense."
Gen dared not delay and quickly said, "Replying to my lord, according to the law, although the principal offender of treason has been executed, his clan should also have its titles stripped, its property confiscated, be demoted to commoners, and be permanently barred from employment."
A very standard answer.
"Demoted to commoners?"
Arashi thought for a moment, then shook his head. "That is too wasteful."
Cultivating a ninja required many resources, let alone a ninja clan.
He walked to the giant ninja world map, his gaze lingering on the Land of Fire region for a moment.
A concept had already formed.
If the Anbu were to be the eyes, then someone needed to be the blade.
He could not let the Anbu be both eyes and blade, otherwise it would easily become too powerful to control.
The Shimura, these ninja burdened with sins and stripped of their future, were undoubtedly the best materials to be a blade.
He would not tell anyone this idea.
After all, if a ruler is not discreet, he loses his ministers.
Thinking of this, Arashi walked back to the desk, picked up his calligraphy brush, and took a blank scroll.
The brush tip fell, with only a few words.
He sealed the scroll and handed it to an Anbu nearby.
"Send someone to Konoha, give it to Minato, and have him personally read it to the Shimura."
The Anbu took the scroll, and his figure vanished.
From beginning to end, Arashi did not explain a single word to Gen.
…
Konoha, Hokage's Office.
Minato slowly unrolled the Daimyo's letter.
The content on it made him completely stunned.
The entire letter contained only one sentence, "The entire Shimura clan is hereby ordered to depart within three days for the Fire Capital, to await judgment."
There was no reprimand.
No disposition plan.
Only this one sentence.
Await judgment?
Was this to execute the entire clan as a warning to others?
Or was there another purpose?
Minato could not completely guess the young lord's thoughts.
Forget it, he would not think about it anymore.
He just needed to be a messenger. Thinking too much was useless.
He quickly composed himself and had Anbu summon Shimura Ken.
Soon, Shimura Ken was brought in.
The old man looked uneasy, with hope in his eyes. "Hokage-sama, Daimyo-sama, he…"
Minato did not speak. He just pushed the Daimyo's letter in front of him.
Shimura Ken took the scroll with trembling hands.
When he saw the sentence on it, his aged body swayed violently, and his face instantly drained of color.
Go to the Fire Capital… await judgment… It was over.
Everything was over.
The last shred of luck, the last glimmer of hope, was completely crushed at this moment.
He seemed to already see the men, women, old, and young of his clan being beheaded in the execution ground of the Fire Capital.
"Thud."
The scroll in Shimura Ken's hand slipped, his cloudy old eyes filled only with despair. "Hokage-sama…"
"Is there… no other way?"
He stammered, his voice like a murmur.
Minato watched him in silence, finally only able to shake his head gently.
The light in Shimura Ken's eyes was completely extinguished.
He did not wail or beg for mercy. Supported by his clansmen, he left the Hokage Building.
He looked like a walking corpse.
After the news spread back, the entire clan was instantly shrouded in despair.
No wailing.
No cursing.
Only an extreme, suppressed silence.
A young ninja suddenly drew a kunai, seemingly wanting to end his life.
But his father beside him slapped the kunai away.
"If we go, we go as an entire clan," the father roared hoarsely.
They knew that in the face of absolute power, any struggle was futile.
That afternoon, the Shimura began selling off their property.
They did not choose to flee.
Instead, they exchanged all their valuables for dry rations and clean water.
Because they knew countless eyes outside were staring intently at them.
The only thing they could do was pack their belongings, take their women and children, and embark on this journey toward death.
Three days later.
Just as dawn broke.
A procession of over three hundred people silently walked out of the Konoha gate.
In the procession, there were ninja, ordinary people, old folks, and even infants still in swaddling clothes.
Everyone's face was ashen.
This was a procession heading to the execution ground.
On the official road leading to the Fire Capital, the procession moved slowly forward.
The atmosphere was so oppressive it was suffocating.
No one spoke.
Only the heavy footsteps and the sound of cartwheels grinding over dust.
The occasional cry of an infant gradually subsided under the mother's soothing.
They were the entire Shimura clan.
At the very front of the procession was the white-haired Shimura Ken.
He wore a brand-new plain white robe, and his usually straight back was now hunched.
Every step he took was incredibly heavy.
Because he was leading his entire clan toward an unknown, but very likely destructive, end.
The clansmen behind him had vacant eyes.
Fear had long been worn away by the long journey, leaving only the numbness of resignation.
Finally, the majestic city walls of the Fire Capital appeared on the horizon.
Upon entering the city gate, the guards checked their documents and waved them through.
Once inside the city, they were stopped by an official.
"The Shimura clan?"
"Yes, sir."
"Daimyo-sama has ordered. Follow me."
The official spoke, then led them through the bustling streets.
They were not taken to the administrative office where criminals were judged.
Nor was it the prison where offenders were held.
Ultimately, they were led to a spacious training ground on the outskirts of the city.
The training ground had high walls on all sides, and the only entrance was a heavy iron gate.
When the last Shimura clansman walked into the training ground,
"Boom."
The iron gate slammed shut behind them, cutting off everything inside and out.
A tremor came from the ground, startling a baby into wailing, its mouth quickly covered by its mother, leaving only whimpers.
Everyone's body stiffened.
Their last retreat was completely cut off.
They huddled together, over three hundred people, confined in this empty space, awaiting an unknown judgment.
Time passed bit by bit.
The sun overhead grew fiercer, sweat drenched their clothes, but no one dared to move.
After an unknown period, a small door on the other side of the training ground creaked open.
The door was pushed open.
A figure walked in, silhouetted against the light.
He wore a simple black everyday robe, without any ornaments, his steps unhurried.
But the moment he appeared, the entire training ground fell silent.
The man slowly walked to the center of the field and stopped.
He did not speak, just calmly scanned everyone present, his handsome face devoid of any expression.
An indescribable pressure descended upon them.
Wherever his gaze swept, the Shimura lowered their heads, their breathing becoming cautious.
His dignified presence made it impossible to look directly at him.
It was him.
The Daimyo of the Land of Fire, Chiba Arashi.
(To be continued.)