Even if I didn't target you, as time passed, everyone would distance themselves from the Sarutobi clan. Could the Sarutobi clan still have it easy?
Without sufficient capital to continue its explosive growth, the Sarutobi clan had fallen into a strange cycle.
They couldn't keep their heads down and continue developing because they lacked the capital. Yet they weren't declining, either. They were always left hanging in midair, neither rising nor falling.
For now, they wouldn't decline. After all, the Third wasn't dead yet. Out of respect for him, people had to give them some face.
Even if Yan wished the Third would die sooner, he still had to show Tsunade and Jiraiya some consideration.
Once the Third kicked the bucket, who the hell would care about the Sarutobi clan?
By then, crushing them would be as easy as squeezing them between his fingers.
Even if he didn't crush them, a few casual words would be enough to make them suffer.
The Uchiha of the past were their example. They worked themselves to the bone without getting even a scrap of benefit, bore a bad reputation, and got cursed at wherever they went—like rats scurrying across the street.
"..."
The Third's aged face, covered in liver spots, darkened slightly. He lowered his head, pipe clenched between his lips, and sank into thought.
Yan did not urge him. He simply drank his tea in silence.
It had to be said that the Third knew how to enjoy himself. At the very least, this tea was quite good—far better than what Fugaku and Hiashi drank.
Yan did not understand tea, but he could still taste the difference.
At least, the tea the Third drank was top-grade in his eyes.
Ordinary people could not enjoy something like this.
"Even after this old man