"Now... what do we do now?" Komatsu's voice trembled even more noticeably.
Behind him, Shino and Hinata also unconsciously tensed their bodies, their breathing quickening, forming a sharp contrast with the calm expressions of Mamoru and Kurenai.
"They obviously aren't good people. I'll go slaughter them." Mamoru stood up, his tone flat, but the words he spoke were ice-cold.
"Wait." Kurenai spoke up in warning, her slender eyebrows furrowing slightly as she reminded him, "Don't go too far."
"Depends on my mood." Mamoru tossed back, jumping lightly off the carriage, his soles making a soft scuffing sound as they hit the ground.
He still had his hands casually tucked in his pockets, with a faint smile on his face, as he walked at an unhurried pace toward the three samurais who were clearly ill-intentioned.
"Look, boss. This kid is really good-looking." One samurai pointed ahead excitedly, his eyes bulging as if he were seeing walking money. "Selling him to those rich people with special tastes would definitely fetch an incredible price."
He greedily licked his dry lips, his hands rubbing together unconsciously.
"Hmm... not bad." The boss with the toothpick narrowed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing the approaching Mamoru, nodding with satisfaction from time to time. "He's definitely top-quality goods. Those old men in the city will surely love him."
The samurai next to him interrupted hastily, "No, we should sell him to those rich old women. They're much more generous than those old men."
The other samurai chimed in, "I agree with Kurokawa's suggestion. Last time..."
"Shut up!" The leader shouted impatiently, the toothpick in the corner of his lips wobbling dangerously, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I'm the boss, and I say we sell to whoever I want."
The two lackeys shut their mouths resentfully, but their eyes were full of defiance, secretly grumbling, 'If you want to turn your back on money, there's nothing we can do.'
As Mamoru continued to approach, the three samurais' unscrupulous conversation drifted clearly into his ears.
Mamoru sneered inwardly.
So they were highway robbers, and they were even trafficking women and children on the side. This was good, he wouldn't have any psychological burden when making his move.
The job wasn't even done yet, and they were already discussing how to maximize their profits.
"Yo!"
Mamoru stopped a few steps away from the three, his stance as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in his own backyard.
"Kid..." One of the lackeys was about to speak.
"Robbery!"
Mamoru waved his hand as if shooing away flies and said in a flat tone, "If you don't want to die, leave your valuables and get lost."
This role reversal left the three samurais momentarily stunned. They exchanged glances, and after confirming they hadn't misheard, they all turned their fierce gazes toward this arrogant youth.
"You brat, how dare you play us!" Kurokawa snarled, veins throbbing at his temples.
"That's right, I am playing you." Mamoru nodded readily, a playful arc curling at the corner of his lips.
"Do you want to die!" the other lackey roared.
"Come and get it, here boy, here..." Mamoru beckoned with his finger, his gesture as contemptuous as if he were coaxing a dog.
"You bastard!"
The two lackeys were instantly enraged. They gripped their sword hilts, preparing to draw their blades and charge.
The wind in the forest suddenly stilled, and the air was thick with killing intent.
"Kurokawa, Jiro, stop!" The leader stopped his impulsive lackeys.
Then he turned to Mamoru with a hypocritical smile. "Kid, you might not understand the situation yet. But you'd better stay still and not move, otherwise, I won't step in to stop you from suffering a bit."
In his eyes, Mamoru was already a commodity waiting for a price, and he wouldn't break him unless absolutely necessary—breaking him would decrease his value.
Black lines almost physically manifested on Mamoru's forehead.
As expected, these three looked none too bright, and they were blind to boot. They hadn't even recognized the Konoha Forehead Protector hanging around his neck. This was a serious lack of professionalism.
Coming out to rob and not being able to distinguish which factions can be robbed and which can't—isn't that just committing suicide?
The leader added smugly, pointing to the dense forest around them, "Don't think about running away, and calling for help is useless, very few people pass through here."
"Stay right where you are. Once we deal with that man, we'll take you to a good place."
As soon as he finished speaking, Mamoru mimicked his expression and tone. "Running away? Calling for help? No need for such trouble. I'll send you all to a good place in a bit."
Mamoru laughed playfully, his eyes full of mockery.
"Brat, you must be tired of living! How dare you talk to boss like that!" Jiro slowly drew the katana at his waist, staring at Mamoru with a savage face, his eyes full of ill intent.
"Whether I'm tired of living or not, why don't you come over and try?" Mamoru beckoned with his finger provocatively again, tracing a contemptuous arc in the air.
"You bastard!"
Jiro shouldered his blade and swaggered toward Mamoru.
"Jiro, be careful when you move. Just give him a lesson." Kurokawa didn't forget to remind him. "Whatever you do, don't injure his face, or the commodity won't be worth as much."
"So noisy! Kurokawa, I'm not stupid." Jiro replied impatiently, his eyes fixed on Mamoru.
Jiro stopped in front of Mamoru and looked down at him, a sinister smile appearing on his savage face. "If you kneel and apologize now, I might let you off."
Mamoru's gaze remained level. His current height only reached Jiro's chest, a fact that immediately made him very unhappy.
"I really hate looking up at people, so..."
Before he finished speaking, Mamoru suddenly kicked out, his foot accurately striking the side of Jiro's knee.
Thud—
Jiro knelt heavily on the ground on one knee. The sharp pain from the joint made him groan, his face instantly turning pale.
"Still not low enough. You don't need the other leg either. Kneel when you talk to me."
As Mamoru spoke, he kicked the other leg. Immediately, a crisp sound of bone cracking rang out, sounding particularly piercing in the silent forest.
"Aaaah—"
A shrill scream erupted from Jiro's mouth, startling the birds in the forest.
Mamoru said in a flat tone, "Seems like I used too much force. My apologies."
He added, "Too noisy."
He delivered a heavy punch to the front of the half-kneeling Jiro. Accompanied by the tooth-aching sound of bone cracking, blood immediately gushed from Jiro's nostrils.
Jiro was knocked backward, his eyes instantly losing focus, and his right hand holding the sword went limp. The Katana fell onto the muddy ground with a "clang."
"Ugh..."
Jiro groaned semi-consciously, his body beginning to sway uncontrollably as if he would collapse at any moment.