Anrokuzan's residence.
The tower stood in the central district of Rōran, built entirely from massive white stones. Golden reliefs adorned its walls, and the dome at its peak gleamed in the sunlight.
From outside, it symbolized Rōran's prosperity and majesty, an honor the queen had bestowed upon her minister.
Only after stepping inside did Sara discover that the tower's interior had long since been transformed into something else entirely.
The air carried a chilling, pungent stench: rust, machine oil, and a sickly sweetness of decay, utterly at odds with the fragrance of flowers in the square outside.
Puppet parts covered the walls. Metal arms, wooden joints, and spools of Chakra Threads lay everywhere, along with rows of glass jars filled with purple liquid that shone eerily in the gloom.
Mukade-no, he was Anrokuzan now.
He sat on the throne at the top of the tower, his expression dark.
His face had grown somewhat plump, yet it looked sunken in the shadows, the light in his eye sockets flickering.
The marks six years had left on his face vanished in the darkness. He was still the same ambitious Mukade.
Fat piled upon his cheeks and jaw, but it could not conceal the madness burning in his eyes.
Over those six years, he had gorged himself on everything countless ambitious men dreamed of.
Power, wealth, the power of the Dragon Vein.
Yet his soul remained that of the gaunt man who had fled in panic from Sunagakure's encirclement.
Anrokuzan had sensed the instant those two puppets were cut apart. He had also sensed Naruto's chakra approaching.
Now that he saw Naruto again, Anrokuzan still found himself afraid of him.
That fear was like a needle lodged deep in his heart. In six years, it had never truly gone away.
Even when their