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Chapter 184: Movement in the Daimyo Mansion
Deep beneath Amegakure.
The cold, damp air was a mixture of mold and the stench of rotting wounds. Water droplets slid down rusted iron bars, rhythmically hitting the flooded floor. Each sound felt like a hammer against the frayed nerves of the prisoners.
This was originally the water dungeon Hanzo used for his enemies, but now it had become a "melting pot" for the elites of the Five Great Nations.
"Stop pushing! You rock-head from Iwa! If you lean this way again, I'll twist your head off and shove it up your ass!"
A roar shattered the silence. The speaker was a dark-skinned Kumogakure Jonin. Though his gear was shattered and his chakra suppressed by sealing formulas, his arrogant, thuggish aura remained. He was struggling to move his massive frame away from the corner, glaring with disgust at the shorter ninjas nearby.
"Why are you shouting, you Cloud barbarian?" The Iwagakure ninja didn't back down. He was a thick-set member of the Demolition Unit. He spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm right at the Cloud ninja's feet. "If it weren't for this tiny cage, I'd show you some 'performance art' and turn you into the most beautiful firework in this sewer."
"Hah? You? Without your clay, you're nothing!" The Cloud ninja's veins bulged. He tried to move, but the chakra shackles on his wrists felt like they weighed a ton. As soon as he exerted force, an electric current surged through his body.
"Argh!" He screamed, collapsing to the floor in convulsions. A few mocking sneers came from the surrounding shadows.
"Give it a rest, you idiots." In a dark corner, a middle-aged ninja wearing a Konoha forehead protector leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was the captain of the Konoha scout team, a member of a branch of the Nara clan, known for his cold logic. "The sealing formula here is a variation of the Uzumaki clan's. The more you struggle, the stronger the backlash. If you want to die, go ahead, just don't drag us down with you."
The Cloud ninja crawled up, panting, and shot a vicious glare at the Nara captain. "You Konoha weaklings, stop acting so profound. Weren't you captured too? So much for the soldiers trained by the 'Professor of Ninjutsu.'"
This was the spark that ignited the powder keg. The fragile balance in the cell shattered instantly.
"What did you say? You want to fight!"
"Where are the Sand puppeteers? Why are they so quiet? Did they poison themselves mute?"
"Shut up! We were ambushed! In a fair fight, my puppets would have torn this cell apart!"
Inside the narrow cell, dozens of ninjas from different villages pushed, shoved, and cursed. Accumulated hatred, the humiliation of defeat, and fear of the unknown all erupted at once. They blamed each other for being burdens, mocking each other's incompetence, as if proving someone else was worse could alleviate the shame of being a prisoner.
The shouting nearly lifted the moldy ceiling. The Cloud brute was still trying to headbutt the Iwa ninja's nose, even though both were immobilized by shackles. Insults flew everywhere.
"All of you, shut up!"
A low but authoritative bark rang out like thunder. It wasn't just volume; it was the aura of someone accustomed to command. The Nara Jonin finally opened his eyes. He stood up slowly, his gaze sweeping over the ninjas who usually called themselves elites but were now acting like rabid dogs.
"Look at yourselves," the Nara Jonin said, his voice cold as ice. "Shinobi? Elites? I've seen fresh Genin with more dignity. What's the point of arguing here? Think about how to get intelligence on that monster back to your villages."
At the word "monster," the noisy cell went silent instantly. The Cloud brute slumped back against the damp wall, his bravado drained.
"That guy..." The Iwa ninja stopped shouting as well. He looked down at his bandaged hands, his voice trembling. "That wasn't a power a human should possess."
The same image flashed in everyone's mind. That man hadn't even used hand seals. He just stood there, raised his hand, and summoned the weather itself, becoming a walking natural disaster. When had such a freakish Kekkei Genkai appeared in the shinobi world? Who was he?
The Nara Jonin walked to the bars, staring into the deep darkness outside. He had to get word back. A man that dangerous could decide the outcome of an entire war. But with their chakra sealed, it was almost impossible. He had checked the area; the dungeon was built of solid granite. Even with chakra, it would take work to break out. Moreover, there was only one entrance, heavily guarded by Rain ninjas.
Despair flickered in his heart. The situation was grim. But he couldn't give up. He had to think of a way.
However, he didn't know that while he was trying to find a way to send a message, Dragon had already made his move against the Great Nations. The leadership of the Five Nations had already received his mediation notice. Some dismissed it with contempt; others frowned in concern.
In the Land of Fire, at the Daimyo Mansion.
The luxurious courtyard featured koi swimming peacefully in clear ponds and perfectly manicured bonsai. It was a place of tranquility, far removed from the war-torn borders. The Daimyo of the Land of Fire, a pampered middle-aged man, lay on a soft couch as two beautiful attendants fed him peeled grapes.
Before him, a samurai in ornate armor knelt respectfully, holding a scroll above his head. It was the ultimatum from Amegakure. The Daimyo glanced at it lazily, not even reaching out to take it. He merely snorted.
"Amegakure? Akatsuki?" He acted as if he had heard a funny joke, his lips curling in disdain. "An organization I've never even heard of, in a rainy little speck of a country, dares to threaten the Land of Fire?"
He spat out a grape seed and waved his hand impatiently. "Is such a trivial matter worth bringing before me? What are those ninjas in Konoha being paid for?"
The samurai bowed even lower, his voice hesitant. "My Lord, Lord Sarutobi of Konoha seems to take this very seriously. He believes this 'Akatsuki' is not simple and suggests—"
"Suggests? Do I need his suggestions?" The Daimyo sat bolt upright, his face flushed with offense. "I am the master of the Land of Fire! Konoha is just a pack of guard dogs I pay to keep! Now the dogs can't handle a thief, and they want to tell the master what to do?"
His voice was sharp and petty, leaving the attendants and samurai silent in fear. "Send my orders to Hiruzen Sarutobi!" The Daimyo stood up and walked to the pond, looking at his own noble reflection. "I don't care what this 'Akatsuki' is or who they captured. Anyone who challenges the majesty of the Land of Fire must pay!"
He flicked his sleeves, his voice cold and emotionless. "Tell Konoha to deploy immediately and wipe that Amegakure off the map! As for the captured ninjas... they are useless trash. If they die, they die. I'll send their families a pension to show my mercy."
"But..." Cold sweat poured down the samurai's face. This order practically forced Konoha to declare war on the other nations simultaneously, as there were ninjas from other villages held in Amegakure.
"Hmm?" The Daimyo turned, his eyes cold. "Do you not understand my words?"
"Understood! Your servant obeys!" The samurai didn't dare say more. After a heavy kowtow, he scrambled away.
Peace returned to the courtyard. The Daimyo lay back down, as if he had merely crushed an ant. In his eyes, a ninja's life was no different from a high-priced bonsai—just a decoration he had bought.
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