Under the glaring searchlights, the incandescent bulbs dried out the air.
Hiruzen collapsed onto the muddy ground.
Like a mangy dog cornered, his head and face were covered in soot, and his tattered Mabui clung to his ribs.
Four mechanical war dogs, each about half a person's height, surrounded them.
The tracked mechanical claws crunched and crushed on the frosty, withered grass.
The warhound cracked its iron jaws, revealing gleaming alloy fangs.
The vocal cords in his throat vibrated, emitting a low, electronic growl.
"Roar--"
The hydraulic rod under his chin hissed out a puff of white steam, which landed squarely on Hiruzen's face.
Hiruzen shuddered, digging his hands into the mud so hard that his fingernails were filled with black grime.
He didn't even have the strength to back away.
Kagami Uchiha walked over, his military boots snapping a dead tree branch under his foot.
He didn't take the rope.
He pulled out a steel cable, about the thickness of a little finger, directly from his waist.
He kicked Hiruzen into the mud and pressed his knee down on Hiruzen's back.
The steel wire roughly wrapped around Hiruzen's wrist and twisted behind his back.
"Click."
The mirror tightened its grip.
The steel wire cut directly into the broken skin, drawing blood.
Hiruzen gasped in pain, biting his tongue hard and tasting a strong, salty, metallic flavor.
He dared not make a sound, fearing that the mechanical dog beside him would pounce on him and bite his neck off.
"Take him away," Jing uttered.
Two Jōkan stepped forward, grabbed the steel cable, and lifted Hiruzen up like a sack of potatoes.
Drag it towards Konoha.
Noon the next day.
The expanded central plaza of Konoha.
The original bluestone slabs were all bulldozed and leveled by excavators. The ground was then covered with smooth cement.
A dozen or so thick wooden utility poles stand around the square. The black power lines stretch into a net in the air.
In the very center of the square.
A cement platform half a meter high was erected.
Behind the stage stood a giant black-and-white cathode ray tube screen, three stories high.
More than a dozen thick cables extended from the back cover of the screen, connecting to a metal distribution box next to it.
A low-frequency humming sound was coming from the distribution box.
Tens of thousands of people crowded into the square.
There are no longer those colorful ninja armors from the past.
They were all wearing uniform dark blue coarse canvas overalls. These were the factory uniforms issued by Konoha Heavy Industries.
The air was devoid of the perfumes and incense of the past. Only a strong smell of engine oil, sweat, and cement dust remained.
Hiruzen was escorted onto the stage by two Uchiha Jōkan.
It was pressed heavily onto the center of the table.
His knee slammed against the hard concrete floor with a dull thud.
His hair was stuck together in hard clumps. Coal dust covered his face so much that his features were unrecognizable, except for a pair of bloodshot eyes.
He looked down at the audience.
A member of the Akimichi clan, who had just finished his night shift, was standing in the front row.
This fat man used to be very careful with his money, even when buying Military Rations Pill. Now he's holding two meat buns the size of an adult's fist.
The oil and water soaked through the oil paper.
The fat man took a big bite. The grease from the fatty meat filling dripped down his chin.
He casually wiped his mouth with his sleeve Hiruzen on the stage.
Several members of the Hyuga Branch Family were standing nearby, their foreheads bald.
He was wearing thick canvas gloves, with large knuckles.
The way they looked at Hiruzen no longer held the same reverence they once had.
It was all undisguised disgust.
Hiruzen's fingers twitched weakly behind his back.
His family's glory, which he was so proud of; his authority as the young patriarch.
Compared to this group of workers reeking of engine oil, he was nothing.
Shu Shiraishi walked up from the side of the platform.
Black short-sleeved shirt, jacket open, military boots on the concrete ground.
He was carrying a metal microphone with a black wire attached.
He stepped to the front of the stage.
Shu Shiraishi raised his hand and tapped his knuckles twice on the metal mesh cover of the microphone.
"Thump. Thump."
Huge speakers stood at the four corners of the square. The dull thumping echoed throughout the village.
The square, which housed tens of thousands of people, fell silent instantly. Even the smacking sounds of people eating steamed buns stopped.
"Aren't you all tired after these past two weeks?" Shu Shiraishi asked.
The sound was flat and monotonous, hitting the microphone directly.
No one spoke from the audience, but many people subconsciously rubbed their sore shoulders.
Working twelve hours a day, how can you not be tired?
"It's very tiring."
Shu Shiraishi switched the microphone from his left hand to his right. The power cord dragged on the ground.
"But the village now has electricity."
He pointed to the telephone poles overhead.
"The cafeteria provides a large meat dish for lunch every day, and steamed buns for dinner."
"Red brick houses have been built in the family quarters. We can move in next month."
Shu Shiraishi looked at the group of workers.
"Most importantly, you no longer need to act as shields for those nobles."
"No more getting your leg broken by a wild boar because of a D-rank mission."
A heavy breathing sound came from the crowd.
Several commoner Genin clenched their rough fists.
The days of uncertainty and uncertainty in the past are contrasted with the days of earning a fixed salary and eating meat Tenten.
Everyone knows which one is better.
"But there are people who don't want you to live like this."
Shu Shiraishi suddenly turned his head to the side.
His gaze fell on Hiruzen, who was kneeling beside him.
He turned around and gestured towards the equipment room below the stage.
The massive three-story-high screen behind me flickered twice with white static.
It's lit up.
The image quality is somewhat rough, with interfering horizontal lines.
But you can clearly see that it's the exhaust vent of the Black Rock Mine.
Hiruzen, covered in black mud, looked like a giant rat crawling out of a rusty iron pipe.
He fell onto the grass.
Tens of thousands of people in the square stared intently at the screen.
In the scene, Hiruzen gets up and stands in the moonlight.
He swung his coal-dust-covered fist and slammed it against the pine tree.
Immediately afterwards, an amplified sound, accompanied by static, came from the speakers.
"My tyranny has come to an end."
"I will definitely return with a great army."
"Save Konoha!"
These words exploded across the square.
Hiruzen suddenly closed his eyes on the stage, his facial muscles twitching violently.
He gritted his teeth, feeling as if his heart had been squeezed hard.
Shu Shiraishi raised his hand and made a gesture.
The big screen flickered and then went black.
Did you hear that?
Shu Shiraishi brought the microphone back to his mouth.
"This former young clan leader of Sarutobi."
"I think everyone working every day is a form of tyranny."
Shu Shiraishi sneered.
"He's going to borrow a large army, to the Daimyo's prefecture, and to other ninja villages."
"Request military funds from the daimyo. Borrow troops from the Tsuchikage."
He took half a step forward, approaching the edge of the steps.
"Lure those high-ranking samurai and ninjas from other villages to Konoha."
"We blew up your newly built factory. We smashed your Chakra generator."
"You're going back to take on new missions. Go back to being guards for caravans and shedding blood."
Shu Shiraishi suddenly pointed his finger at Hiruzen on the ground.
"So that the Sarutobi Clan can continue to be high-ranking members who collect money while lying on your blood and sweat!"
"So that he can continue to preach his hypocritical Will of Fire!"
Dead silence.
The square was deathly silent for a full three seconds.
Then.
It's like a volcano that's been suppressed for decades, suddenly erupting.
"What utter bullshit!"
A burly bricklayer blushed, and veins bulged on his thick neck.
He was still carrying a half-empty bucket of cement.
He slammed the metal bucket onto the ground, splashing mud all over his trousers.
"I finally get to eat meat Tenten! Anyone who dares to smash my factory, I'll chop them to pieces!"
A worker in a machine tool workshop shouted at the top of his lungs.
He was also holding a heavy cast iron wrench in his hand, swinging it forcefully in mid-air.
The crowd was outraged.
The roar of tens of thousands of people converged into a tsunami, shaking apart the clouds in the sky.
"Kill him! Cut this traitor to pieces!"
" Sarutobi Clan vampires! Get out of Konoha!"
A barrage of crude profanities and angry curses rained down on the stage.
Hiruzen knelt on the cement floor.
He looked up at the distorted, angry faces below the stage.
My mind went completely blank.
He couldn't understand.
He was doing it for the traditions of Konoha, to overthrow Shu Shiraishi's dictatorship, and for the Will of Fire.
Why do these people hate him so much?
He opened his chapped lips.
"I..." Hiruzen's throat was parched.
"I did it for the village... Shu Shiraishi is a madman... You've been deceived by him..."
He wanted to shout.
But that hoarse voice was so faint that even the people in the first row couldn't hear it; it was completely drowned out by the noise.
"Smack!"
A rotten egg, reeking of foul odor, flew up from the crowd.
It struck Hiruzen squarely on the bridge of his nose.
The thin, brittle eggshell shattered.
The yellowish-green, foul-smelling egg yolk burst open, splattering all over his eyes and face.
The stench, which had been fermenting for half a month, hit me right in the head.
Egg yolk got into his eyes, burning him so badly that tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
Hiruzen instinctively wanted to raise his hand to rub his eyes.
But his arms were tied behind his back with wire, so he couldn't move them at all.
He could only twist his neck in pain and rub his face against the shoulder.
Immediately afterwards.
A torrential downpour of debris rained down from below the stage.
A half-eaten, hardened, dark cornbread; rotten cabbage stalks; and a stinking tomato.
There were even tattered straw sandals covered in mud.
"Bang!" A hard cornbread hit his forehead, leaving a red mark.
"Splat." A rotten tomato exploded on his chest. Red juice splattered onto his chin.
The scorn of tens of thousands of people.
An attack of rotten vegetable leaves and rotten eggs.
He Hiruzen's last psychological defense—that pride of self-righteousness as a savior.
It was crushed until not a single crumb remained.
Hiruzen knelt on the stage.
The foul-smelling liquid dripped down his hair, obscuring his vision.
He was surrounded by curses and insults.
The young clan leader of Sarutobi, once revered and considered the best successor to the Hokage.
Now they've been completely reduced to being rats in the street. Even breathing feels like a humiliation.
He stopped struggling.
His shoulders slumped, and his back hunched over.
Snot and tears mixed with rotten egg yolk dripped onto the cement floor.
Hiruzen's mouth was agape, his chest heaving violently.
Amidst the deafening spittle and curses of tens of thousands of people.
He broke down in tears.