On the arena floor, that unrecognizable heap of flesh and blood was still steaming.
The thick stench of blood mixed with a nauseating reek of urine, making people gag.
Shimura Danzō, the greatest cancer lurking in Leaf Village's shadows for decades, had been physically erased from this world in the most humiliating—and most satisfying—way possible.
Watching Danzo's miserable death from the VIP stands—
The already pale face of Hiruzen Sarutobi turned completely bloodless.
It was as if someone had pulled out his spine. His entire body went limp, collapsing into the seat in that secluded corner.
His eyes were vacant, as though he had aged thirty years in an instant.
His lifelong political ally had been stomped into bloody pulp right before his eyes.
When the rabbit died, the fox grieved.
He knew that he would be next.
Sure enough.
The villagers and shinobi below, having just vented their fury, slowly raised their heads from that bloodstained ground.
They no longer roared or cursed.
They merely fixed their cold, contemptuous, deeply disgusted eyes upon Hiruzen Sarutobi in unison.
No one moved to strike him again.
Because they felt that using their own hands to touch this hypocrite—one who preached righteousness while secretly allowing darkness to fester—
Was filthy.
Disgusting.
This silent contempt from tens of thousands of people cut deeper than any beating ever could.
Hiruzen Sarutobi felt as if he had been stripped naked and thrown before tens of thousands for public execution.
Every gaze was like a red-hot steel needle driven viciously into his dignity.
He wanted to stand. He wanted to defend himself.
He wanted to say that everything he had done was for the village, for the Will of Fire.
But when he met those cold eyes, filled with disappointment and hatred—
He found that he