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Chapter 188: Before Death, All are Equal
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion erupted at the gates of the Golden Pavilion without warning.
The massive doors—crafted from century-old agarwood and inlaid with gold and gems—weren't pushed open; they were caved in and shattered as if struck by a battering ram.
Shards of expensive wood and twisted gold bars were blasted into the warm, opulent hall, carried by the violent wind and rain.
"Ahhh!"
In the center of the hall, a dancer who had been leaning into the Fire Daimyo's lap screamed as a splinter sliced her cheek, instantly ruining her exquisite makeup with blood.
The music stopped abruptly.
The musicians dropped their lutes and flutes in terror, scurrying behind the massive dragon-carved pillars.
"You bastards!"
Daimyo En'ichi's hand shook from the sudden blast, spilling a full cup of grape wine across his lap. The cold liquid made his flabby flesh quiver.
He jumped up from his couch, his face turning from a drunken flush to a bruised purple with rage.
"Which blind slave did this?! Do you have any idea what these doors cost?!"
He had absolute confidence in his safety.
The Guardian Twelve were outside—the finest elites of the Land of Fire. Even a Kage-level intruder would be held back for a time. He assumed a clumsy guard had stumbled, or perhaps the wind was simply that strong.
Across from him, Duke Kazama frowned and set down his chopsticks, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.
That sound didn't come from the wind.
"Guards! Drag the fool who broke the door out and behead him!"
Daimyo En'ichi roared, grabbing a wine carafe and hurling it toward the entrance.
The jade vessel flew through the air in a high arc.
Snap.
A crisp sound.
The carafe didn't hit the floor. It was caught mid-air by a massive hand coated in a pitch-black sheen.
"Behead me?"
A low, raspy voice—carrying a bone-chilling cold—pierced the rain and echoed through the hall.
Crack—!
A pale bolt of lightning streaked across the sky.
The blinding light illuminated the doorway, casting four long shadows onto the golden floor like demons crawling out of hell.
The air in the hall seemed to freeze.
Daimyo En'ichi stood with his mouth agape, staring at the entrance.
The leader was a man of average build and plain features, his black raincoat dripping with muddy water. His eyes were as calm as a stagnant pool, yet they exerted a suffocating pressure, like being stared down by a predator.
Behind him stood an orange-haired boy, a long-haired man with strange purple eyes, and a stoic blue-haired girl.
The four of them stood there with casual authority.
Rainwater dripped from their clothes. Drip. Drip. The sound was agonizingly sharp in the dead silence.
"Who... who are you?"
The Daimyo's drunken haze vanished. He instinctively shrank back, shouting with feigned bravado, "Guards! Where are my guards?! Asuma! Chiriku! Are you all dead?!"
"Stop shouting."
The tall man waved his hand dismissively.
Thud! Thud!
Two dark objects were tossed into the room, slamming onto the sandalwood table and crushing the "Land of Rain" section of the map. Several pieces representing armies were knocked to the floor, rolling to the Daimyo's feet.
They were corpses.
Two corpses wearing "Fire" sashes, their necks twisted at grotesque angles.
The guards from the entrance.
"These were your guards."
Dragon casually crushed the jade carafe in his hand, letting the shards and wine spill through his fingers.
"I don't think they'll be taking any more orders."
"AHHHH!!"
As the hall processed the sight of the bodies, hysterical screams erupted again.
The dancers and musicians finally realized this wasn't an accident. This was an assassination. An invasion.
"Run! They're killing everyone!"
The crowd scrambled toward the side exits.
"So noisy."
Konan frowned slightly.
Before anyone could reach the doors, countless white paper slips peeled away from the smooth walls and floors.
Whoosh—!
The paper swirled, sealing every door and window, forming an airtight white wall.
A few guards who tried to draw their swords were instantly pinned to the wall by paper shuriken, their blood staining the white sheets crimson.
That quieted the room.
Only heavy breathing and the sound of chattering teeth remained.
Duke Kazama had stood up by now. He was a man of the world; though his face was pale, he maintained a semblance of composure.
He stared at the bodies of the two Guardians, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Killed in one hit.
There hadn't even been the sound of a struggle.
What kind of monsters were these people?
"Gentlemen..."
Duke Kazama swallowed hard, forcing a strained, pathetic smile. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed.
"I am a Duke of the Land of Wind, and this is the Fire Daimyo. Regardless of your organization—whether you seek wealth or power—I believe we can negotiate."
"Yes! Yes! Negotiate!"
Daimyo En'ichi nodded frantically, grasping at the straw.
"How much money do you want? Ten million ryo? Fifty million? Just don't kill me! You can take whatever you want from the treasury!"
Dragon stepped forward, his boots marking the expensive Persian carpet with muddy footprints that looked like black flowers.
He walked to the table, glanced down at the map pinned under the corpses, and then at the spread of fine wine and food.
Yahiko followed close behind, his fists clenched, his eyes burning with a rage that threatened to boil over.
This fat, bloated man.
For the sake of a coward who couldn't even hold a blade, so many in Amegakure had died. Nagato had nearly starved. Konan had nearly been taken.
How could this world allow this?
"Money?"
Dragon reached out, picking up a game piece that had fallen.
It was a piece representing Konoha shinobi, carved with their symbol.
"In your eyes, what is the life of one of these shinobi worth?"
Dragon looked up, his gaze level and calm.
The Daimyo was baffled. He answered instinctively, "Well... for compensation, a Chunin is usually worth about a hundred thousand ryo... if that's not enough, I can double it!"
Crush!
The piece in Dragon's hand turned to dust.
"A hundred thousand ryo."
Dragon let out a cold laugh—a sound of deep, mocking derision.
"A human life, the pillar of a family, reduced to a measly hundred thousand ryo in your mouth."
It seemed the elites of every world were the same. Ordinary lives were nothing more than pets to them. The Celestial Dragons were like this, and so were these so-called Daimyos.
With a violent sweep of his hand, he cleared the table of its fine crystal and silver.
Amidst the crashing of glass, Dragon leaned over the table, his presence looming over the two nobles like a mountain.
"Since you love to gamble so much, let's play a new game."
Dragon's voice was low but reached every corner of the room.
"The stakes aren't tea gardens or mines."
He pointed a finger at the Daimyo's head, then at Duke Kazama's heart.
"The stakes are your lives."
Daimyo En'ichi fell back onto his rear, his flab shaking, a foul smell of urine emanating from his pants.
"You... you can't kill me! I am the Daimyo! I am the master of the Land of Fire! If you kill me, the Five Great Nations won't let you go! Konoha will hunt you to the ends of the earth!"
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