Chapter 94: Prisoners with a Price Tag
"Bang!"
A dark shadow flashed by in an instant.
Uchiha Yashiro felt a sharp pain in his wrist, and the Kunai in his hand was knocked away by a massive force. Immediately after, a powerful hand gripped the back of his neck like a vice, pinning him into the mud.
All the commotion came to a sudden halt.
The one who had acted was Uchiha Fugaku.
This usually composed Clan Chief's face was now as pale as paper, with traces of dried bloody tears still lingering under his eyes.
"Clan... Clan Chief?" Yashiro struggled to lift his head, his eyes filled with disbelief. "What are you doing? That's the enemy!"
"Shut up!"
Fugaku's roar trembled, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.
"Do you want the Uchiha to end here?!" Fugaku lowered his voice, every word squeezed through his teeth. "Open your eyes and look! That technique just now! Even if we all charged forward, what purpose would it serve other than adding fertilizer to this mud?!"
Yashiro was stunned. He had never seen the Clan Chief show such a terrified yet resolute expression.
Fugaku took a deep breath, slowly released his grip, and turned to face the orange-haired man walking over.
The God of Amegakure, Yahiko.
Fugaku's body stiffened for a moment; then, under the shocked gazes of all his clansmen, he slowly lowered his hands and dispersed the ocular power he had been gathering.
This was a textbook posture of surrendering resistance.
"We... admit defeat." Fugaku's voice was hoarse and dry.
Yahiko stopped in his tracks, less than five meters away from Fugaku.
He glanced at the resentful Yashiro, who still wanted to struggle, then at the deathly pale but determined Fugaku, a playful curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"A wise choice, Uchiha Clan Chief."
Yahiko clapped his hands lightly, the sound particularly jarring in the empty ruins. "A wise man submits to the circumstances. If a fool with nothing but muscle for brains were in command, the noble eyes of the Uchiha would likely have been wiped from the Ninja World today."
Fugaku lowered his head, neither refuting nor responding. At this moment, silence was his last shred of dignity.
"Take them away," Yahiko waved his hand. "Give the Uchiha Clan'special treatment.' After all, they are the... major clients we intend to focus on developing."
At the edge of the battlefield on the other side.
Grandmother Chiyo sat slumped under a broken wall; her pride and joy, the Ten Puppets of Chikamatsu, had all been reduced to wood chips. Now, this old woman, who had been shouting about trampling Amegakure earlier, was using the last bit of her Chakra to desperately protect the unconscious woman in her arms.
That was Pakura, who possessed the Scorch Style Kekkei Genkai.
Shadows writhed, and a pale arm snaked out like a venomous serpent, fingers splayed, reaching for Pakura's fair neck.
"Hehehe..."
Orochimaru's signature raspy laughter was spine-chilling, his golden slitted pupils gleaming with undisguised obsession. "Scorch Style... what a perfect specimen. Old woman Chiyo, since you can't protect her, why not give her to me to make into an eternal specimen?"
"Get lost! You traitor!" Chiyo shrieked, trying to form hand Seals, only to find her Chakra completely depleted.
Just as Orochimaru's fingers were about to touch Pakura's skin.
"Kū Jin."
A cold voice, like a blade severing a snake's vital point, caused Orochimaru's movement to freeze instantly in mid-air.
Yahiko didn't look back, merely speaking calmly: "That is the organization's property. If you want experimental subjects, wait until we see if Sunagakure refuses to pay the ransom."
Orochimaru licked his lips and withdrew his hand somewhat unwillingly, though the greed in his eyes hadn't diminished in the slightest. "Yahiko-kun, can't I just have a feel? Such a rare Bloodline..."
Yahiko turned his head, his amber eyes coldly sweeping over Orochimaru. "Are you negotiating terms with me?"
"Yes, yes..." Orochimaru shrugged and smiled sinisterly, like a slimy snake retracting back into the shadows. "You're the boss, you call the shots. But if Sunagakure can't afford the ransom, this body must be reserved for me first."
Ten minutes later.
A prisoner convoy, arguably the most luxurious and most pathetic in the history of the Ninja World, took shape.
Hundreds of Ninjas from Konoha and Sunagakure had their Chakra suppressed by special Sealing techniques, their wrists bound with coarse hemp rope, strung together like livestock.
Without their headbands or tools, and with even their outer coats stripped by Kakuzu for a body search.
They were dejected, trudging through the mud one heavy step after another, escorted by members of the Akatsuki toward the towering Amegakure tower that pierced the clouds.
On both sides of the road, countless civilians of the Land of Rain emerged from the ruins.
They were dressed in rags and emaciated, but seeing these once-lofty Ninjas from the great nations, who had trampled their homes at will, now reduced to captives, their eyes burst with an unprecedented light.
"Are those... Konoha Ninjas?"
"And Sunagakure ones too! I recognize that old woman; she was the one who ordered our granary to be burned last time!"
"Serves them right! Retribution!!"
Rotten vegetable leaves, stones, and spit rained down on the prisoner convoy. The Jonin, who could have slaughtered a village on a whim in the past, could only lower their heads and silently endure the wrath of these "ants."
Yahiko stood on high, watching this scene with eyes as calm as water.
"Konan."
"Here." Konan stood by his side, her pen and paper already recording a long list.
"Make two copies of this'spoils list' and send them via messenger hawks to the Hokage and the Kazekage." Yahiko pointed at the dejected elites below. "Tell Hiruzen Sarutobi and the Fourth Kazekage that if they want their people back, they should bring money and sincerity to negotiate."
He paused, a bone-chilling coldness seeping into his tone.
"If I don't see a reply within three days, I'll cut off a few fingers and send them over every day. If they still don't come..."
"Then skin them alive, turn the hides into lanterns, and send them back."
Konan's hand holding the pen paused slightly, then she nodded solemnly. "Understood."
On this day, the history of the Ninja World was forcibly rewritten by this group of madmen.
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