Kakuzu had not felt this good in a long time.
He carried a sealing scroll in his arms, filled with newly exchanged, heavy gold. It was his latest investment, and he firmly believed gold would soar in the coming months.
Sunlight filtered through the sparse leaves, falling across his stitched skin and bringing a warmth he had almost forgotten.
He even hummed an off-key old tune, one that had circulated through taverns back when Takigakure still remained in his memory.
Five hundred and ten million ryō...
According to the asset management plan provided by the Purifiers, this sum could bring him a stable annual return of over fifty million.
Fifty million.
That was enough to buy the heads of five S-rank rogue ninja, or trade for an entire year of armaments for a small ninja village on the black market. And he did not have to do anything. He only had to stay alive.
Stay alive, then watch his wealth accumulate like a snowball until it became a mountain no one could shake.
He would possess an Imperium that would never betray him.
An eternal Imperium built of gold and banknotes.
The corners of Kakuzu's mouth—his mouth held together by stitches—rarely pulled into a twisted curve.
Perhaps it could be called a smile.
The mountain path bent here.
Two figures stood beyond the turn without warning, blocking his way.
One was thin, while the other was exceptionally burly.
They wore black cloaks embroidered with red clouds, but Kakuzu's gaze was wholly drawn to their eyes.
The Rinnegan's rings of purple ripples were cold and devoid of any emotional fluctuation a human ought to possess, like an abyss staring back at him.
Preta Path. Animal Path.
Kakuzu's smile instantly froze. He stiffened where he stood like an icebound statue.
A bone-deep