Goodbye

Having summoned so many enormous boulders in one go, Shiraishi Yoshijo had nearly drained all the Chakra from his body. Though the hollow feeling inside him was unpleasant, the thought of the hellish scene he was about to witness filled him with excitement.

After spending so many years as a pampered emperor, he sometimes felt like a pig trapped in a pen. This wasn't allowed, that wasn't allowed—he could only fool around with women inside a castle that looked vast but was actually insignificant.

At this very moment, he finally felt freedom once again, just like when he had first left Konoha all those years ago.

Blood—he craved blood. Only blood could prove his strength!

What emperor? At this moment, he was merely a ninja, a simple ninja who wanted only slaughter. What had he worked so hard to train for? World peace?

That was nothing more than an excuse to comfort himself.

Training was for gaining power, and power was everything to a ninja. With power came the right to stand above ordinary people, the authority to decide the life and death of the weak!

Why had ninja become synonymous with violence?

Because the appearance of ninja represented slaughter and bloodshed. It was countless rivers of blood that made ninja synonymous with violence, and those same countless rivers of blood that established ninja as a nation's military force.

Even Naruto killed people. Whether those he killed were good or evil, killing was still killing.

Shiraishi Yoshijo found it hard to understand why Naruto, whose body was stained with other people's blood, believed in Jiraiya's dream—a dream that existed only in an ideal world.

He was clearly in hell, yet he dreamed of bringing light to others?

Hypocritical!

Shiraishi Yoshijo sneered, anticipating the moment the capital became ruins.

Just then,