Splash—
The heavy rain pattered down upon the wilderness, kicking up wisps of faint, thin mist.
The seventeen members of the Fuma Clan stood proudly in the rain, letting the downpour drench their bodies, their eyes filled with fearless resolution, their presence steady as mountains.
Enkō's face bore no expression. Looking at the Fuma Clan, who faced death as if returning home, he calmly asked, "Do you represent the Land of Fields? Or do you merely represent yourselves?"
Fuma Junsuke stepped forward and said unservilely, "It has nothing to do with the Land of Fields; we have merely long heard of the Uchiha Clan's mighty reputation and wish to come and ask for guidance in person."
"You won't surrender?"
"We can't swallow that pride."
Enkō nodded and said no more. After all, everyone possessed a pride of their own, and he was no god; it was impossible for him to unleash some majestic aura and have everyone bow in submission on the spot.
Moreover, the few men before him had clearly come with the resolve to die. Enkō could neither persuade them nor wished to lobby them, yet the Fuma Clan's calm bearing in the face of death did indeed cause him to look at them with a sliver of regard.
Fuma Junsuke removed his giant, fan-shaped weapon from his back, his voice even. "Come! Dying at your hands is no disgrace."
"Boss!"
Beside him, Chikuma was practically bursting with eagerness, staring with pleading eyes at Enkō, carrying the distinct air of if you don't let me go up, I'll hang myself right here.
Enkō chuckled softly, then gave a light wave of his hand toward the front.
"Hahaha, understood!" Chikuma grinned broadly, striding forward. His brows were filled with unyielding arrogance, and his fierce gaze was like that of