Click.
The stiff brass button was pressed down to the bottom by Shu Shiraishi's thumb.
A sharp electrical crackling sound erupted from the honeycomb holes at the bottom of the iron brick.
Like rusty nails desperately scraping against a glass plate.
It was so pungent it made my eardrums ache.
The noise lasted only half a second.
Immediately afterwards, a gloomy voice was emanating from the speaker.
" Tsuchikage, this little bastard isn't taking the bait."
His pronunciation was clear and articulate; even the slightest sound of water as he took a breath could be heard.
It was the voice of the Third Mizukage.
Ōnoki's face, which was filled with a forced smile, froze in that instant.
Old skin hung on his cheekbone. The muscles in his cheeks twitched involuntarily a couple of times.
He forgot to lower the corners of his mouth. He remained frozen in the chair, like a crude wooden sculpture.
The iron brick was still clanging.
"Keep him calm. He's too arrogant."
Ōnoki's own voice came through. It was hoarse, with a hint of fierce determination.
The sound echoed back and forth in the stuffy conference room, pounding against the heavy oak wall panels.
Mizukage's hand trembled.
"Bang."
A rough porcelain teacup has overturned on the mahogany table.
The scalding tea spilled out, flowing over the dark red tablecloth and landing on Mizukage's hand, leaving a red mark.
He sat there like a dead man. He neither wiped his hands nor withdrew them.
I felt my hands and feet were ice cold, as if I had fallen into an ice cave.
Kazekage's legs trembled violently under the table.
His knee slammed against the tabletop with a dull thud.
He clenched his teeth so hard that his fingernails dug into the armrests of the wooden chair, splinters of wood embedded between his fingers.
The recording continued, playing aloud in the empty room.
"Were the Explosive Tag damp? The snow in the Land of Iron is too heavy." Kazekage's voice followed.
"Twelve thousand. The Iwagakure assassins dug the tunnel for three days," Ōnoki's voice replied quickly.
"As soon as the Explosive Tag explodes, the barrier immediately closes. It's like a sealed pressure cooker."
Even the number of Explosive Tag was exactly the same.
They even revealed the complete plan for coordinating the barrier after the explosion.
Ōnoki's eyeballs looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.
He stared intently at the black iron brick.
My breathing stopped completely. My chest felt like it was stuffed with a wad of water-soaked cotton, making it painfully suffocating.
The recording was played on the phrase " The Reverse Hiding Like a Mole Technique leaves a one-way passage."
Shu Shiraishi extended his index finger and tapped the iron brick.
Click.
The button popped up, and the sound stopped.
The conference room was deathly silent.
The only sound was the crackling of burning charcoal in the brazier in the corner.
Shu Shiraishi leaned back in his chair, the collar of his black trench coat brushing against his chin.
"Twelve thousand Explosive Tag."
He looked at Ōnoki's deathly pale face.
"They dug for three days."
Shu Shiraishi let out a cold laugh. The laughter was like a dull knife cutting flesh.
"So all they dug up was this low-class, ridiculous monkey?"
Ōnoki's lips trembled. His upper and lower teeth chattered wildly, making a soft, grinding sound.
"You... how could you..."
His voice cracked; he couldn't utter a single complete syllable.
Chakra telepathy.
This is recognized Shinobi World as the most secretive form of internal communication.
No need to speak. No need to Hand Seals. Connect directly through mental frequencies.
Even the Byakugan of the Hyuga Clan couldn't see through it.
How could you possibly record that lump of metal?
Shu Shiraishi tugged at his collar.
"Still treating it like a treasure?"
He pointed to the iron brick on the table.
"Faced with Konoha's quantum listening radar network."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. His gloved hands were crossed.
" The Chakra waves that are only going around in your heads."
"It was as loud as the village aunties arguing in the street."
Kazekage gasped. The cold air rushed into his throat, making him cough.
Her underwear was stripped off.
No, they were even skinned alive.
They believed their assassination plan was foolproof.
They thought they had led Shu Shiraishi into a deadly situation, and that the young man had been tricked.
It turned out that the person was carrying a tape recorder and sitting across from him watching the monkey show.
They even overheard clearly the one-way passageway through which they were discussing their escape plan in their minds.
"And what about Water Prison Formation to seal off the ventilation openings?"
Shu Shiraishi's gaze swept over Mizukage's bloodless face.
"Are you planning to cook yourselves too?"
The disguise was torn to shreds.
What peace talks? What ceding territory and paying reparations?
It was a resounding slap, landing squarely on the faces of the three figures.
It hurts like fire.
Ōnoki's face went from deathly pale to a purplish-red in an instant.
The veins on his neck bulged out, like writhing worms.
The dignity he had held for decades in a high position was thrown to the ground and crushed relentlessly with the soles of his shoes.
Diplomatic dignity is gone. The negotiating table is no longer necessary.
Shame and anger mixed with fear of the unknown, completely extinguishing Ōnoki's reason.
"Do it!"
Ōnoki let out a beast-like roar.
Spit sprayed onto the mahogany table.
He completely ignored the Explosive Tag and fuses under the table.
All those arrangements are now useless. Since Shu Shiraishi knew this, he wouldn't give them the chance to activate the grand formation.
The only option is to fight desperately. While we're close enough, let's risk our lives for each other.
Kazekage and Mizukage suddenly kicked the chairs away.
The two of them leaped backward at the same time, knocking over the screen behind them.
His hands Hand Seals in preparation for the Tsuchikage's cover.
Ōnoki suddenly clasped his hands together in front of his chest.
The age spots on the back of my hand turned black due to congestion.
The immense Chakra instantly drained the energy from his cells. His lumbar spine emitted a dry crack as if it could no longer bear the strain.
" Dust Release: Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
A semi-transparent cube-shaped barrier formed between his palms.
Inside the barrier, a blinding pure white light shone.
A burst of white light erupted. The surrounding air was instantly sucked away, emitting a sharp hiss.
Even the fire in the charcoal brazier in the corner was extinguished by this pressure.
This light is powerful enough to break down all matter into atomic states.
Ōnoki braced his feet against the chair and used the recoil to leap directly onto the mahogany conference table.
The wooden chair tipped over and crashed onto the floor.
He stepped over the overturned teacup and onto the dark red tablecloth.
The tablecloth was torn by the Chakra beneath his feet.
The white light of Dust Release in his hand was aimed directly at Shu Shiraishi's face.
They were too close.
Less than two meters.
The white light, Dust Release enough to disintegrate all things, instantly illuminated Shu Shiraishi's face.
The bright light was blinding, but it couldn't penetrate the coldness in his eyes.
There was no panic. There was no dodging.
He didn't even frown, nor did he show any intention of getting up from his chair to avoid it.
Shu Shiraishi raised his right hand.
The right fist, clad in a specially made black Chakra- depleting glove, was raised to meet the destructive pillar of light from Dust Release.
A layer of dark purple reverse-frequency electromagnetic light flowed across the surface of the gloves.
He looked at Ōnoki's face, contorted with rage.
"Since you all want to die."
Shu Shiraishi clenched his five fingers, and his knuckles made a dull popping sound.
"Then I'll grant your wish!"