Rebuilding * Bartering

First, set up the tent, then clear out a space for eating and activities.

The Merchants had previously established Barrier with Uzumaki Enma, and the supplies in their shops were still intact, with rice, flour, and dried goods neatly stacked, and even several vats of clean water in the corner. Several Ninjas were sent to negotiate, and after explaining their purpose, the Merchants ' expressions immediately changed.

"This is our stuff!"

Why should we give it to you? We paid for it ourselves!

"We didn't blow that wind last night, go find whoever blew it!"

Someone in the crowd couldn't hold back any longer. A man pushed his way to the front, pointing his finger at the Merchants. "Have you no conscience! People have died and been injured outside! Thousands of people haven't had a drop of water since last night! How can you expect to have babies while guarding this grain?!"

The Merchants refused to back down. "We are victims too! Why should we give away our goods for free!"

The argument between the two sides grew increasingly heated, and the crowd grew larger and larger. Some people started pushing and shoving, while others clenched their fists.

A young man couldn't hold back any longer and shouted, "Kill him if he doesn't hand it over!"

The crowd surged forward, and the Merchant, startled, took several steps back, his face turning pale.

Just then, several thick Vines descended from the sky, wrapped around the waist of the people at the front, lifted them up, swung them around twice in the air, and then put them back on the ground.

Hashirama stood outside the crowd, smiling at them, and said gently, "Calm down, everyone calm down. Let's talk this out, don't fight."

Those who had been dumped lay on the ground retching for a long time. When they finally looked up, their faces were deathly pale, and they dared not utter another word.

Hashirama walked up to the Merchants, squatted down, and looked into their eyes.

"I know you paid for your goods," he said. "We won't take them for free. We'll exchange them for a house. You provide the grain and cloth, and I'll build you a new shop. How about that?"

The Merchants looked at each other, some were tempted, while others were still hesitant.

An older businessman frowned. "A house? What are you going to use to build it? There are Ruins everywhere, where are you going to find timber?"

Hashirama smiled, stood up, and clasped his hands together.

Wood Release: The Four Pillar House Technique

The ground shook slightly, and on the cleared open space, thick wooden beams rose from the ground, forming a straight framework. Wooden planks were pieced together, and doors and windows took shape one by one.

In just a few seconds, a whole row of small houses stood neatly in the open space, with wooden shingles on the roofs, doors with window frames, and even the thresholds were smoothed out.

The entire room fell silent.

Tobirama, who had just finished directing others to set Tobirama the tent, rubbed his forehead and let out a long sigh.

Well, it was all for nothing.

The merchants were stunned for a full three breaths, then erupted in uproar.

"W-How did you do that?!"

"A house! Just like that, it was built!"

"Can you... can you create other styles?"

"I have blueprints here! I have blueprints here!"

Several merchants rushed to send people to retrieve the blueprints they had stored in the basement of their former shops. These included garden restoration plans, shop design plans, and house layout plans. They spread them out one by one in front of the Hashirama, as if they wanted to stuff all their life's collections into his hands.

"Look at this! This is a design I brought back from the Land of Fire. Can you build it?"

"Mine! Mine is in the style of Tea Room from the Land of Water!"

"Is there enough grain? I have fifty shi here! Do you need any cloth? I have over a dozen bolts of silk in my storeroom!"

Surrounded by Hashirama, Hashirama looked at the pictures one by one, a smile tinged with a hint of helplessness.

Tobirama stepped forward and blocked his way. "Let's check the grain and cloth first. Once those are in place, we can talk about building the house."

The merchants readily agreed and immediately opened their granaries to distribute the grain.

Tobirama and Hashirama created several clones, each leading a group of strong young men, to move food and clothing.

Bags of rice and flour were carried out one by one, rolls of cloth were neatly stacked, and water vats were carefully lifted to the open ground.

While they were moving things Hashirama there, Hashirama set up a small stool and sat down, carefully examining the blueprints.

As he looked around, he exclaimed, "So a house can be exchanged for this much grain? The thinking of the rich is truly bizarre."

Tobirama stood to the side, expressionless. "Big Brother, you are the God of the Shinobi World, not a construction worker."

"But building houses is a lot of fun, and you can get money and food that way, so I don't mind switching careers to become a craftsman."

Tobirama sighed, deciding not to argue with him.

The nobles stood at a distance, watching the rows of new houses rise up, and the merchants huddled around the Hashirama, passing blueprints, tea, and snacks. Some of them began to have their own thoughts.

A middle-aged nobleman approached and coughed lightly. "Um... Lord Hashirama, do you think we could also...?"

Hashirama looked up at him kindly. "What do you have?"

The nobleman opened his mouth.

What did they have? Money? It was all swept away by the wind long ago.

Food? We didn't bring any.

The cloth was still covered in vomit.

Houses? Their country is a hundred and eight thousand miles away from here.

Besides, they won't be staying here for long. We can't expect the God of the Shinobi World to condescend to build a house in their country, can we?

Regardless of whether he likes it or not, the Daimyo of their country will be the first to oppose it.

By inviting one of their top combatants to their own country, aren't they afraid that this person might tarnish their country if they become unhappy?

They dared not utter a single disrespectful word to these Ninjas now. After last night's experience, they fully understood what it meant to be at the mercy of others.

They're now reflecting on why they spoke to these human disasters the way they did before—that's really brave of them.

The nobleman retreated sheepishly.

Hashirama didn't pay any attention and continued looking at the blueprints.

A merchant next to him handed him a bowl of water, which he took and drank a sip of before burying himself in studying the garden restoration plan.

Ban leaned against the tree trunk, gazing at the bustling scene in the distance.

Hashirama was surrounded by a group of merchants, clutching blueprints in his hand, a smile on his face that suggested he couldn't refuse.

Rows of small houses stood neatly in the open space, the annual rings on the wooden beams still carrying a fresh scent.

Some people had already started carrying food into the house, while others squatted on the threshold, marveling at the grain of the wood.

Madara looked at this scene and felt it looked somewhat familiar.

It seems they did something similar in the Land of Fire.

Back then, it was Izuna who breached the enemy's castle, and they followed behind to repair it, rebuilding street by street and compensating shop by shop.

Back then, Hashirama would simply clasp his hands together, and the house would rise up. At that time, no merchants or nobles came looking for them.

It seems the status of Ninjas has indeed begun to change.

That time, Izuna only managed to destroy one street; this time, he ripped up the entire town.

Madara tilted his head and glanced at Izuna was fast asleep beside him.

The younger brother had his head tilted to the side, a cat mask hanging on his ears, and his breathing was even. Because of his sleeping posture, there was drool at the corner of his mouth.

Madara withdrew his gaze, raised his hand to form a hand seal, and created a Shadow Clone.

He turned and walked towards Tobirama.

Tobirama was standing next to a pile of supplies, sketching something on a piece of paper with a charcoal pencil, while several Ninjas and Ordinary People waited for him to assign them tasks.

The clone walked up to him and cut to the chase. "Why did you send a clone to the ship to find me back then?"

Tobirama raised his head and glanced at his clone.

"Of the things that happened at this Summer Festival," he said flatly, "Half of it was caused by the locals of the Land of Hot Water."

Madara's clone was stunned for a moment.

"What?"

"Oh right." Tobirama put down his charcoal pencil, as if suddenly remembering something, "I have to rescue that old man first."

After saying that, he formed a hand seal and vanished into thin air.

Ban's clone stood there, completely bewildered by the sudden burst of whispers around him.

What is all this nonsense? How could the people of the Land of Hot Water cause trouble on their own land?

Before he could think it through, Chakra fluctuation flashed in the air, Tobirama reappeared on the open ground.

He didn't come back alone.

He was carrying an elderly man on his shoulder.

The old man was tall and slender, dressed in a drab gray kimono, the hem of which was stained with dried mud and dark brown bloodstains.

One leg was hastily bound with strips of cloth, and the blood seeping from underneath had already turned black.

His hair was gray and disheveled, hanging over his shoulders. His face was wrinkled like a dried plum, but his eyes were surprisingly bright as he scanned the Ruins from above Tobirama's shoulder.

Tobirama walked up to Madara, bent down, and gently placed the old man on the ground.

"This is the Jurōjin," he said, "One of the Seven Lucky Gods of the Land of Hot Water."

Then Tobirama slapped his palm. "Oh right, I also need to catch someone."

Before he finished speaking, he vanished from his spot, only to reappear a second later.

There was one more person in my hands.

Bishamonten was grabbed by the back of his collar and dragged over, but his face was expressionless. He didn't struggle or speak. Tobirama casually put him on the Tobirama, and he just stood there, completely indifferent.

The people around didn't recognize him at first.

When they saw the face clearly, everyone who was moving stones, clearing Ruins, or carrying logs stopped what they were doing and turned to look at it.

Some clenched their fists, some gritted their teeth, but their anger wasn't directed at Bishamonten, but at Tobirama, who had captured him.

The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

The Jurōjin, trembling, walked out from Tobirama and stood in front of the crowd.

He glanced at the angry faces, cleared his throat, and spoke in a hoarse but clear voice.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am the Jurōjin of Longevity, Seven Lucky Gods of the Land of Hot Water."

"This man named Seibei, while bearing the name of our Seven Lucky Gods Bishamonten, is secretly the leader of Jashin Cult."

"This time, he's using this Summer Festival to demonstrate the power of the Evil God to Military Advisors from various countries. His goal is to kill everyone who comes to the Summer Festival to achieve his objective."

A buzzing sound arose from the crowd. Some people were angry, but the massacre of everyone at the Summer Festival was still too inconceivable. Even the most vicious Ninjas had never done such a thing.

Furthermore, why would the high-ranking officials of the Land of Hot Water slaughter their Land of Hot Water people? Was it merely to demonstrate military strength to another country?

He must be out of his mind to do that, right?

Outsiders were buzzing with discussion, but some locals seemed completely unsurprised.

Several elderly people stood in the crowd, their faces blank with indifference.

The younger youths even showed expressions of disapproval.

A young man with short hair pushed his way out of the crowd and shouted, "It is my honor to die for the Lord Jashin!"

There was a moment of silence.

Then, several other people chimed in.

"The Lord Jashin will lead us to a better world."

"Jurōjin, stop talking. The Lord Jashin is salvation."

"Our lives were given to us by the Lord Jashin, so what's wrong with giving them back?"

Ban's clone leaned against the pile of supplies, and upon hearing their words, let out a cold laugh.

"You guys?" His disdain was palpable. "You were scared after spending one night in the sky, and you still want to die?"

The voices of those people abruptly stopped.

They instinctively shrank their necks.

The fear of being blown into the air by the wind last night hasn't completely dissipated. The feeling of dizziness, nausea, and floating around, not knowing where I'd fall, makes my legs go weak just thinking about it.

Bishamonten stood in the middle of the crowd and said loudly, "It's alright, it's normal to be afraid of death, oh!"

A pebble fell from the back of his head where he had been hit by a pebble.

Bishamonten rubbed the back of his head and looked back.

Izuna sat on the ground, his hand still in the position he had just thrown the object.

All eyes turned to him.

With dark circles under his eyes, Izuna pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly stood up, leaning against the tree trunk.

"You want to appease your followers?" He brushed the grass clippings off his clothes. "Ha, you're really fearless. I had just fallen asleep when you woke me up. Have you thought of how to explain this?"

Madara reached out to help, "Izuna, let us handle this..."

Izuna raised his hand to stop Madara, and looked up to see Bishamonten staring at him with an unfriendly expression.

"The Jashin Cult, is it?" Izuna beckoned with his finger. "Come on, tell me, what is your doctrine? I want to see what kind of nonsense you can come up with, since you already call yourselves 'Evil Gods'. Something that sounds off is definitely not right."

The surroundings quieted down.

Those believers who had been echoing the Jashin Cult fell silent, their gazes shifting back and forth between Bishamonten and Izuna.

The Jurōjin stood at the front of the crowd, his wrinkled face expressionless, simply watching quietly.

A fanatical look slowly rose on Bishamonten's face, as if he had finally waited for someone to ask this question.

"You want to hear it?" he said. "Okay."

He raised his hand, pressed it against the silver necklace on his chest, and said loudly.

"The Lord Jashin is not what you think he is," Bishamonten said, his tone carrying an almost pious solemnity. "He is not an evil spirit, not Demon; he is a mirror."

Izuna raised an eyebrow.

"Mirror?"

"Yes." Bishamonten raised his head slightly, "The Lord Jashin reflects the human heart. He reflects as much hatred, resentment, and evil as is in your hearts. If you have evil in your heart, he is the evil in your heart; if you have hatred in your heart, he is the hatred in your heart."

He paused.

"Who in this world doesn't harbor evil in their heart? Samurai do, nobles do, commoners do, Ninjas do. You speak of peace, yet each of you harbors your own schemes. Lord Jashin has done is simply to bring those hidden things into the open."

"When people see the evil within themselves reflected in the sky, they will realize that so-called peace, justice, and benevolence are nothing but self-deceiving lies. These things simply do not exist in this world."

"Since there's nothing there, why pretend?" His voice rose a few decibels. "Let the Lord Jashin cleanse all of this, burning down the hypocritical Old World completely. Then, rebuild a real world from the ashes. No deception, no pretense, no labels of good and evil, only instinct and truth."

"This is the true blessing of the Lord Jashin."

After hearing this, Izuna laughed in exasperation, "That's it?"

Bishamonten's smug smile froze on his face. "What?"

"I said, that's it?" Izuna took two steps forward, stood in front of him, and looked down into his eyes. "The core of your doctrine is 'There is no good in this world, only evil'?"