Three hours after the Black Mud Ridge Battle ended, there was no champagne for celebration in General Quan's temporary command post—only the heavy stench of cigars and the distinctive inky scent of banknotes.
"Smack."
A thick stack of banknotes was slammed onto the mahogany desk, making the half-filled glass of whiskey beside it tremble.
"This is for the First Brigade." General Quan crossed one leg over the other, the mud on his military boots not yet dry as he casually propped them on the desk's edge. "Tell that old fox Sakai Saburo not to give me that damn 'death benefit' bullshit. Fifty thousand ryo for every man who made it out alive. For the dead, send the money straight to their families. If anyone dares skim off the top, I'll stuff him into a cannon barrel and fire him out."
The quartermaster standing before the desk swallowed, his hands trembling slightly.
This much money could buy half the red-light district in the capital of the Land of Rivers.
"Chairman, isn't this... too much?" the quartermaster cautiously reminded him. "Konoha's funding hasn't come through yet. This is all our..."
"Our nest egg?" General Quan snorted, staring at the cringing man through his sunglasses. "You don't know shit. Money sitting in a warehouse is just wastepaper, good for rats to build nests with. Spend it, and it becomes morale. It becomes lives."
He took a hard drag on his cigar. Through the swirling smoke, his far-from-handsome face carried the shrewdness of a hardened bandit.
"Why did those idiots from Iwagakure lose? Because all they did was feed their men empty promises and talk about the 'Will of Stone.' I don't talk about will. I only talk cash. Believe it or not, if the money's good enough, these dirt farmers would charge a