Yuhi Shinku struggled, glaring furiously at the tall, slender-backed man before him.
His voice was cold as a glacier, yet laced with an almost sickening obsession.
"Two more?"
Sasori slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over them as though he were appraising unfinished works of art. "Creatures like you will eventually rot away.
But being transformed by me into eternal beings is a stroke of luck for you."
Kawaki Aoba stared coldly at Sasori, his voice unwavering. "Sasori of the Red Sands, you're nothing more than a rogue ninja who betrayed his village! You even sold your own soul to this so-called 'art'! You won't succeed."
Sasori smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "A soul? That thing has no value.
I seek only true eternal art—not pitiful mortals like you, eroded by time and toyed with by fate."
Shinku gritted his teeth and snapped, "You keep talking about art, but your so-called 'eternity' is nothing but cold puppets and lifeless shells! How can that possibly be art?!"
Sasori's gaze darkened sharply as he strode closer, his sinister aura nearly freezing the air. "Those who do not understand always make such shallow judgments.
Your flesh will rot, but once remade by my hands, it can break free of time's shackles and become immortal.
Is that not the highest realm of art?"
Aoba's Chakra stirred faintly. He was clearly trying to break free of his restraints, but Sasori noticed at once. With a cold snort and a slight twitch of his fingers, a crimson puppet appeared before them.
"Don't waste your strength."
Sasori spoke coldly. "Struggling before me will only make you look more ridiculous."
Shinku took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. "Do you truly not care about the war at all? Your homeland—Sunagakure—is in