A genin who didn't want to become Hokage wasn't a good ninja, just as an apprentice who didn't want to become a master wasn't a good artisan.
Likewise, a little fry who didn't want to become a boss wasn't a good gangster... Though putting the word "good" before "gangster" was strange, there was nothing shameful about wanting to become a boss.
Within the Wild Gathering, that was practically political correctness.
It was precisely because such ambition needed no concealment that the beasts of the wilderness threw themselves into it without regard for their lives, relishing the fierce struggle and elimination.
Fight, seize, take, kill, eat!
I fucking eat eat eat eat eat—jump onto the table and spin in circles while eating!
There was no Celestial Origin-style seniority, ranking, or order—only the strong devouring the weak. If those below wanted to rise, those above had to be able to keep them down. If they couldn't, they would instead fall into the dust, be trampled beneath others' feet, and become stepping stones.
Ling Shuo wanted to be a boss.
He thought about it in his dreams, while working, and even when he was fucking!
He thought about it every waking moment.
From a stinking beggar in Ash Port, to a backbone of the syndicate, to the sworn daughter of boss Ling Liu, and even to where he stood today... From the moment Ling Shuo had willingly thrown himself into this world where the strong devoured the weak, he had understood: if he didn't trample others beneath his feet, then he would be trampled beneath theirs.
If he couldn't stand above, then he could only become a futures corpse.
The Chieftain's seat was already too lofty and distant to reach, but what about the boss's position? If he exhausted every ounce of strength