With the turmoil settled, only repairs remained. A white-bearded Sunagakure ninja sighed beside the battered walls. Sunagakure had survived the harsh wind and sand only because these stone walls shielded them from the storms. Otherwise, no matter how arrogant a Jonin might be, they would be blown into a dried corpse within minutes in that parched wasteland.
"Three copper coins for three jin of sand and stone? They're treating ninjas like livestock."
Whenever there was grueling work, they always made lowly people like them do it. The old man carried loads of stone on his shoulders to patch the gaps. The pay was barely enough to get by; if he wanted to find some young model, who knew how long he would have to save up?
It was like those games where NPCs handed out daily sect quests. Every time, the experience and money rewards were pitiful, while those snot-nosed brats got to stand nearby and point fingers. The VIPs took the biggest share. Just thinking about it was infuriating.
Apparently, the people who had come to ambush and assassinate the Wind Shadow were children.
How could that be possible?
Come on, anyone with half a brain would know that was impossible. The Wind Shadow Building had been wrecked beyond recognition. Did they really have no idea what kind of monsters they were up against?
Every day, they used their right to speak to suppress cheap labor like them, prettily calling it the Land of Wind's talent dividend. Calling it a population dividend was just the sort of thing people said when they had never known hardship. There was no such thing as carrying a heavy burden forward; it was only that someone else was keeping their peaceful days intact.
This was seriously unbelievable.
Still, it was not all bad.