The guide ninja called Hatake Sakumo the Fourth Hokage outright, which clearly meant that Lord Tokugawa recognized Sakumo's identity. It should have been something worth celebrating.
But—
"That old man from the Tokugawa family is dead, isn't he? The next generation's fledglings haven't even grown their wings, and already his subordinates are this arrogant?"
A cold, cutting voice suddenly came from inside the carriage, making the Guardian Shinobi who had just turned away snap around.
His slightly bloodshot eyes fixed on the source of the voice.
Guardian Shinobi usually came from among wandering ninja, or were loyal retainers trained from childhood. Their tragic pasts often filled them with gratitude toward the family they served.
If anyone insulted their lord, they would make sure that person understood their lord's greatness, even if it cost them their lives.
The world spun. Heaven and earth repeatedly turned upside down. Blood-red Sharingan eyes opened all over the world—in the rocks, in the sky, in empty space, and across his own body.
The chilling ocular power left his limbs as stiff as if they had frozen, while the strength drained from his flesh.
The Sharingan eyes on the skin of his arms grew more and more uncanny. The glimmer in them made them seem almost intelligent.
Perhaps the only thing he could be grateful for was that he didn't suffer from trypophobia. At that density, the sight of those eyes would have killed someone who did.
He desperately tried to marshal the chakra within him and break the genjutsu, but the illusion didn't waver in the slightest.
Amid his terror, his breathing gradually stopped, and his thoughts slowly died away.
His consciousness remained trapped in the illusion, but his body instinctively tried to "save" itself.
He dropped to his knees, clutched his throat with both