"Shiratori!"
Shiratori, a gatekeeper running through the street, heard the familiar shout. He turned around and saw a set of armor thrown his way.
It was heavy, and he was thin, so he couldn't catch it and fell to the ground. He looked back in the direction the armor had been thrown from.
It was an old friend of Shiratori from their days among thieves.
"Put it on, let's go kill the Daimyo together."
Shiratori looked at the armor pressing down on him, then at his remaining right arm, which wasn't even as thick as a sword hilt. He pointed to himself:
"Me?"
He really wanted to ask:
"Man, are you serious?"
Shiratori, including his bodily fluids, probably didn't weigh as much as this set of armor. And he was supposed to wear this thing to fight the Daimyo's samurai?
Was he crazy?
But he didn't ask.
Because Shiratori could tell his old friend looked… off.
The armor had a helmet, so he couldn't see his face clearly. He could only see a pair of blood-red eyes through the gaps, and wisps of hot steam constantly billowing out from the openings.
This was the Land of Wind. Even at night, the temperature dropped, but you wouldn't exhale visible mist.
"Are you alright?" Shiratori asked.
"Me?"
His old friend patted his chest and laughed wildly, "I'm fine! I'm great, I've never felt better, I have endless energy… No, I can't wait, I can't wait for you."
He drew his sword and shouted "Kill the Daimyo!" as he charged out.
Shiratori chased after him.
He saw his friend burst out of the alley and lunge at a samurai with his sword.
Shiratori immediately noticed the samurai's unusual belt and armor; this was clearly a captain-level figure.
A flash of steel, and his friend was cut in half at the waist, falling to the ground with a thud.
Before Shiratori could grieve, an even more horrifying scene unfolded before him:
With his lower body gone and intestines spilling out, his old friend seemed to feel no pain. He was still clutching his sword, hacking wildly.
He only stopped when the samurai captain decapitated him, and hot blood sprayed two to three meters high.
The severed head rolled, and landed at Shiratori's feet.
Shiratori stared blankly at his old friend:
His eyes were bloodshot, his gums were all ruptured and bleeding, his expression was ferocious and terrifying, like a mad demon.
"Hmm?"
The samurai captain looked over.
Shiratori turned and ran, fleeing into the darkness, gritting his teeth.
"Boss Kurosaki… No, Kurosaki!"
"You damned bastard, what did you do?!"
…
Kurosaki was running wildly under the moonlight.
More than half of the plan had succeeded. The rest depended on whether Monk Hoichi and Mukade could release One-Tail Shukaku.
But that wasn't Kurosaki's concern anymore.
Their plan was like snatching chestnuts from a fire. The chestnuts were now in hand. When dawn broke, no matter what Linto decided, the three of them would become rich and successful overnight, rising to become lords.
Becoming dragons among men.
"Next, I just need to make sure 'the fire' doesn't burn me."
Whether Linto chose to suppress them or protect the Daimyo, he would be furious after this was over. Combined with the effect of the "mysterious little vine," if Linto found them, it would mean death.
Dead men couldn't enjoy good times.
To survive and enjoy their future happiness, the three of them had each devised escape routes:
Mukade had never appeared in his true form. Even the one fighting Grandma Chiyo now was just a puppet. His real body was hidden somewhere in the city.
For Linto to find him, he would have to search layer by layer in reverse.
Mukade didn't believe Linto would specifically look for a nobody like him after dealing with the Hua Sha City situation.
Once this storm passed and the heat died down, he would be safe.
Kurosaki shared the same idea as Mukade.
He couldn't use puppet techniques. Kurosaki planned to flee the city on horseback, ride as far as he could, and pray that Linto wouldn't have the time to kill him.
This was a gamble with his life.
If he won, he'd have wealth and status.
If he lost, it would be over.
For this.
Kurosaki chose to go ALL-IN.
As for Monk Hoichi's escape strategy?
That was something else.
Monk Hoichi didn't plan to run.
He prided himself on his sealing techniques. As long as he could control One-Tail Shukaku, he could unleash the full power of the Tailed Beast. Linto, no matter how strong, was still mortal.
Monk Hoichi's exact words were:
"The Jinchuriki that Linto defeated before defiled the power of the Tailed Beast.
If Linto doesn't appear, that's fine. We have no grudge, so I'll let him off.
But if Linto really dares to show his face, I don't mind letting him see what true Tailed Beast manipulation looks like."
After hearing this, Kurosaki and Mukade were silent for a long time, looking at each other.
Kurosaki couldn't help but ask:
"How long has it been since you left Sunagakure Village?"
"I've been training in the village since I was young and have never left… Does that have anything to do with what we're talking about?"
"No."
Kurosaki and Mukade simultaneously gave a thumbs up:
"Master Hoichi is truly a wise and virtuous monk."
Kurosaki and Mukade were delighted to have someone to take the fall, someone to act as a lightning rod for Linto's anger. They never expected Monk Hoichi to volunteer.
In ancient times, Sakyamuni cut his flesh to feed the eagle.
Today, Monk Hoichi sacrifices his life to fight Linto.
"Hoichi… try not to die too quickly!"
Kurosaki prayed in his heart. The next bend was the secret room he had prepared, which contained an underground passage leading directly out of the city. A fast horse was waiting for him outside. Once he got on it, success would be within reach—
His thoughts were interrupted.
Shiratori stood at the end of the alley, panting heavily, leaning against the wall.
His thin body trembled from running so hard, and saliva dripped unconsciously from the corner of his mouth onto his dirty, dark gray robe.
Only his clear black and white eyes were fixed on Kurosaki, as if he was seeing this man for the first time.
"What exactly did you do?!" Shiratori gritted out.
Kurosaki's expression shifted slightly. After a few seconds of thought, unwilling to waste more time, he gave a wry smile and said:
"I don't know, but Shiratori, trust me one last time. I'm working on a solution."
Shiratori stared at him blankly.
"Really?"
"Really. It's me, Kurosaki. You know me best. Trust me, just this once. I'll prove it to you."
As Kurosaki spoke, he patted Shiratori's shoulder and walked past him.
At the moment they crossed paths, Kurosaki's face turned cold.
He drew the knife at his waist and swung it backward. A thud was heard.
Shiratori's right arm was severed.
Clutched tightly in the severed hand was a key.
The key to the secret room.
Kurosaki bent down and picked up the blood-stained key.
"I told you, for a one-armed thief like you to be a thief, you have to be extra careful. Because you only get one chance. If you're found out, it's death."
"After all these years, seeing as you've earned me a lot of money, I won't kill you. You're on your own."
Shiratori stared at Kurosaki.
"What do you mean… money I earned for you?"
Kurosaki sneered:
"You didn't really think those kids had some strange illness, did you?
I just gave them some medicine to make them cough and fever… Oh, after taking so much medicine for so many years, they're probably close to death.
But Shiratori, if you hadn't insisted on stealing only for the children, why would I have resorted to such methods?"
Kurosaki raised his chin slightly: "In the end, their deaths are all your fault."
The guy who had lost both arms, lying in a pool of blood, struggling even to stand, was named "Shiratori" – Flying in the Sky.
Kurosaki sneered, shook his head, took off his glasses, dropped them on the ground, and crushed them with his foot. He then slicked his hair back.
"Farewell, one-armed thief."
Kurosaki turned and left.
Shiratori watched his retreating figure and slowly curved his lips into a smile.
He had no hands, so he couldn't operate the wireless communicator in his helmet. But Shiratori knew that all the rebels throughout the city, who were fighting desperately, had heard.
Shiratori wasn't stealing Kurosaki's key.
He was stealing the "trust" in Kurosaki's heart that everyone held.
As he listened to the sounds of fighting gradually subside in the distance, Shiratori smiled. Even though he was about to die from blood loss, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Great… Everyone, I can live…"
The next second.
"Kill!"
"We can't stop. If we don't kill the Daimyo today, we'll all die!"
The shouts of battle erupted again.
And they were more ferocious than before.
Shiratori was too naive.
He still had the mindset of youth, thinking that if the truth was revealed, everything would be resolved perfectly.
But…
In the adult world, many times you have to press on, even when you know the truth.
Having fought this far, whether it was hatred for fallen comrades or fear of the Daimyo's retribution, it couldn't be resolved with a simple "misunderstanding."
The arrow is out of the bow. If you want to live, you have to keep killing.
This was why Linto had no intention of "explaining."
On this night, words were meaningless.
A look of despair spread across Shiratori's eyes.
"Damn it… If I had known, I should have fought Kurosaki to the death…"
His vision blurred, his body grew cold. In a few minutes, he would die.
Just then, lying on the ground, Shiratori vaguely saw someone…
Standing against the blue sky.