A Seasoned Turncoat

A Seasoned Turncoat

A ninja like Konan should not have trusted others so easily.

But at heart, she was still gentle.

If anything, the selfishness, cunning, and cruelty demanded of a ninja made her gentleness all the more precious.

Konan's gentle expression did not last long, though.

"Since someone's already claimed the boss's first kill, we can't keep dragging this out." She looked at Itachi Uchiha and Roger, her expression turning cold again.

A fierce resolve seemed to burn in her pale golden eyes.

She would end this event and welcome her new companions with a victory.

"The condition for victory isn't killing everyone else. It's taking the Holy Grail," Itachi Uchiha said. "But right now, no one knows where it is. My guess is that it won't appear until enough people have been eliminated—perhaps not until only two remain."

As he spoke, Itachi Uchiha glanced at Shen Mo.

Unfortunately, Shen Mo merely smiled. His expression did not change.

Itachi had failed to pry any useful information out of the man running things behind the scenes.

Even Itachi Uchiha found the situation troublesome.

He feared no opponent. Every opponent had a weakness. But Shen Mo's sudden intervention had given Konan two more companions, as though the referee had deliberately handed one side an advantage.

What worried Itachi Uchiha now was not how to deal with the other members.

It was how he would face the three fighters on Konan's side after dealing with everyone else.

That meant he had to find a way to reduce their numbers.

In a sense, Itachi Uchiha would do anything to achieve his goals.

To protect Konoha, he could slaughter his entire family. To help his younger brother grow, he could even sacrifice his own life.

And now, his goal was to win and secure