For from beginning to end, the Sage of Six Paths had believed that Indra's path was wrong in itself.
Peace maintained through force alone was false, fleeting, and cold.
Only peace built on mutual understanding and acceptance was true peace.
Sadly, things had not gone as he wished.
The Sage of Six Paths gazed at the Sky Screen and gently shook his head, his heart full of regret.
"You were too stubborn, Indra."
"You put too much faith in power. You were too proud and self-centered to listen to advice or admit your mistakes."
"You refused to turn back, step after step, until you strayed completely from the righteous path and wandered down a dark road. You have no one else to blame."
In his eyes, every tragedy had been the result of Indra's own stubbornness.
The scene on the Sky Screen changed.
First, it showed Indra.
He raced along at tremendous speed, his movements sharp and decisive, without the slightest delay.
In just half a day, he reached the disaster-stricken village recorded in the scroll.
As soon as he approached, a dense wave of cold, sinister malice struck him.
The land had long been deeply contaminated by the Ten-Tails' lingering negative chakra. The fields lay barren and cracked, all vegetation had withered, and the air was murky and oppressive.
An eerie black mist lingered around the village year-round. Ordinary people who approached became dazed, weak, and sick, while the worst cases died on the spot.
The remaining tailed beast chakra raged wildly, occasionally triggering small tremors and violent winds that destroyed what little remained of the houses and fields.
Everyone in the village was sallow and emaciated, their eyes filled with terror. They lived in fear every day, suffering beyond words.
Countless villagers knelt on the ground, trembling as