The dark muzzle of the gun was pointed at Danzo's mud-covered forehead.
Danzo's mouth was agape, and his crooked chin was shaking violently.
He stared intently at his bleeding right eye, the eyeball filled with bloodshot veins.
He's waiting.
Waiting for Shu Shiraishi's long, sarcastic remarks. Waiting for this young man to flaunt his victor's arrogance.
As long as Shu Shiraishi talks nonsense, even if it only delays him for two seconds.
He could forcibly squeeze out the last bit of life force and pour the Genjutsu Chakra of Kotoamatsukami into the opponent's brain.
But Shu Shiraishi didn't say a single word.
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger with his index finger.
The hammer strikes, igniting the primer.
"Bang!"
A deafening gunshot rang out in the claustrophobic sewer.
A half-foot-long orange-red flame shot from the gun muzzle, illuminating the moss-covered brick wall.
The brass cartridge case bounced out of the ejection port, struck the iron walkway, and tumbled twice with a crisp sound.
It fell into the black water below.
The high-pressure Chakra bullet tore through the air in an instant.
It burrowed into Danzo's forehead.
The sharp crack of the skull breaking was drowned out by the deafening gunshot.
The bullet exploded violently inside the skull.
A large chunk of Danzo's head was blown off.
A mass of rotten flesh, red and white, mixed with bone fragments, was sprayed violently onto the stone wall behind him.
Brain matter slowly flowed down the cracks in the brickwork.
Danzo's body suddenly stiffened.
Like a dead tree struck by lightning, it lies frozen in waist-deep excrement.
The wildly spinning Mangekyō Sharingan instantly stopped, its light dimming.
He didn't even have a chance to think of his last words.
The brainstem was completely destroyed. Thoughts were physically erased within a fraction of a second of the gunshot.
My body stiffened for two seconds.
"Splash."
Danzo straight backward, crashing heavily into the latrine.
The black water splashed up more than a meter high.
Sewage poured into the bloody hole on his head.
The gray prison uniform floated briefly on the water's surface before slowly sinking to the bottom, carrying the corpse with it.
Only a string of bloody bubbles rose to the surface and burst.
Completely dead. Not even the slightest possibility of coming back to life.
Shu Shiraishi flipped his wrist.
The gun barrel was still emitting wisps of white smoke.
He engaged the safety and holstered the Chakra pistol back into its holster at his waist.
With a "click," the clasp was fastened.
"Pull it up."
Shu Shiraishi looked down at the ring of blood oil spreading on the water's surface.
"Gouge out the right eye."
The manganese steel mech below received the order.
The tracks turned, grinding over broken bricks underwater with a dull, grinding sound.
The fuselage is tilted forward.
The massive robotic arm plunged directly into the black water.
The metal grippers fumbled around underwater for a bit.
He grabbed Danzo.
The hydraulic motor emitted a "humming" sound as the grippers exerted force to lift the food.
The body was forcibly pulled from the bottom of the water.
Stagnant water gushed down his trouser legs.
Danzo was suspended in mid-air like a tattered sack. His head was tilted to one side, and murky liquid was still leaking from the blood hole on his forehead.
The mecha's left mechanical arm rose.
It lacks the human concept of respecting the dignity of the dead. Program instructions are simply executed.
Three cold steel fingers spread open.
It was aimed at Danzo's right eye, which had just closed.
"Pfft."
Without any restraint, three fingers were forcefully inserted into the eye socket.
The sound of tearing flesh was accompanied by the sticky sound of water.
The robotic arm pulled it outwards.
Nerves and blood vessels were violently severed.
A bloodied eyeball was clamped between metal fingers and forcibly ripped out.
The four-cornered windmill pattern of Shisui's Sharingan still remained on the surface of the eyeball, gleaming dark red in the dim light.
The mecha turned around.
The robotic arm, holding the eyeball, was raised into the air and handed towards the iron walkway.
A series of light footsteps came from the back of the corridor.
Orochimaru, wearing a white coat, strode out of the shadows.
The soles of his shoes sank into the iron grille, and he walked very quickly.
He was holding a palm-sized, transparent glass petri dish.
It contained a light green, highly concentrated nutrient solution.
Orochimaru walked to the railing and stretched out his arm.
"Let go." He stared at the eyeball, licking his chapped lips.
The mech's grippers released.
The eyeball fell into the petri dish with a "plop".
A few drops of green nutrient solution splashed onto the cuff of his white coat.
Orochimaru quickly closed the glass lid.
Through the glass, he stared intently at the Mangekyō Sharingan.
A morbid fervor ignited in his eyes.
" Kotoamatsukami." Orochimaru's voice was hoarse, but filled with excitement.
He carried the petri dish and walked over to Shu Shiraishi.
" Lord Shu, if this thing is installed on a living person, the Chakra consumption will be a bottomless pit."
"But now we have Chakra grid. We have a transformer motherboard."
Orochimaru held the glass dish up a little higher, examining it under the light of the hallway's overhead lamp.
"Although the Yamanaka Clan's radar network has been deployed, it can only detect sounds and emotions from a distance."
"We can't stop those die-hard spies who have closed their minds."
Orochimaru reached out and tapped the glass cover twice with his fingernails. A tinkling sound.
"This eye, in essence, forcibly rewrites brainwaves."
"We connected it to several sets of amethyst capacitors and then connected it to the central monitoring network."
"It would be such a waste not to use it to change other people's will."
Orochimaru's voice trembled slightly with excitement.
"We've made it into a reverse-reading probe."
"It's mounted on top of that iron chair in the Anbu's interrogation room."
He looked at Shu Shiraishi.
"Who got dragged in? Get in there."
"Turn on the power. Let Kotoamatsukami's Genjutsu frequency directly scan his cerebral cortex."
Orochimaru grinned, his smile chilling.
"This is the highest grade of truth serum."
"Scan for three seconds. He can even tell you exactly how many times he wet the bed when he was three years old, word for word."
Shu Shiraishi leaned against the rusty iron railing.
After listening to Orochimaru's report, he glanced at the glass dish.
Red eyeballs floated in the green water.
"Take it and revise it."
Shu Shiraishi began, "Get it set up within three days. Throw away all those old torture instruments in the interrogation room."
He turned around.
The Anbu Ninja following behind quickly stepped forward.
He handed over a neatly folded, damp white towel with both hands.
Shu Shiraishi took it.
Unfold and carefully wipe the knuckles of your right index finger.
Actually, no blood was spilled from the gunshot; it was just that the air in the sewer was too dirty.
He wiped each finger and crumpled the dirty towel into a ball.
He casually tossed it down.
The white towel fell into the latrine below and was quickly swallowed by the black water.
"Clean it up."
Shu Shiraishi left out a single sentence.
I strode up the iron staircase.
The soles of the boots made a dull clattering sound as they stepped.
Orochimaru was holding a petri dish.
He glanced down at the headless corpse still dripping water under the mech's grippers.
"Dissolve them in the corpse-dissolving liquid," Orochimaru ordered the mecha. "Don't leave any bone fragments either."
He turned around and quickly caught up with Shu Shiraishi.
The iron door to the air vent was pushed open.
"Squeak--"
It was afternoon outside.
The sunlight shone down relentlessly, stinging my eyes.
Shu Shiraishi raised his hand and pressed down the brim of the Hokage's hat to block the sunlight.
The stench of the sewers was gone from the air.
Instead, there was a strong smell of coal smoke and cement dust.
This place is very close to a heavy industrial construction site on the edge of the village.
Shu Shiraishi strode forward, walking along the dirt road.
The road surface was covered with deep ruts made by large tracked vehicles.
Walk around the corner.
Ahead lay a bustling construction site, with towering scaffolding reaching over ten meters high.
Hundreds of shirtless workers were moving around inside.
The sun was blazing overhead.
An old-fashioned pulley crane is lifting red bricks up.
The hanging basket swayed precariously, the ropes tightening and creaking against the wooden frame.
Below the suspended basket.
Hiruzen Sarutobi bent over.
He has long lost the dignity he had as a Hokage candidate.
His upper body was bare. His skin was peeling from sunburn, showing a mix of red and white.
A tattered towel, so dirty its original color was unrecognizable, was hanging around his neck.
Two tattered cloths were placed on his shoulders.
The most noticeable things were the things on his wrists and ankles.
Two sets of cast iron handcuffs and shackles, each weighing thirty pounds.
Thick iron chains dragged across the Kitsuchi earth.
With each step he took, the large iron ball on his ankle rolled forward.
A furrow was plowed into the ground.
The edge of the iron ring chafed the skin on his ankle, forming a thick, dark scab that turned white from being soaked in sweat.
Hiruzen carried a heavy stack of solid red bricks in both hands.
There were more than thirty pieces, pressing down on him until his back was bent like a bow.
The rough brick surface rubbed against my palms, leaving them covered in blisters and calluses.
"Hurry up! Haven't you eaten yet?!"
Beside him Uchiha Jōkan dressed in short black clothes with a red ribbon tied around his arm.
He was clutching a leather whip wrapped with copper wire in his hand.
The whip tip crackled loudly in the air.
"Smack!"
Hiruzen shuddered.
He clenched his teeth, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched twice.
Sweat streamed into his eyes. He didn't dare stop to wipe it away.
He could only blink hard, and two beads of cloudy sweat squeezed out from the corners of his eyes.
He took a deep breath, and a labored, gurgling sound came from his chest.
I was just about to put the red bricks I was holding into the hanging basket.
"Rumble, rumble, rumble."
From the dirt road at the edge of the construction site came a heavy thud of tracks.
The sound was so loud that even the brick in my hand was vibrating slightly.
Hiruzen instinctively stopped in his tracks.
He turned his head and looked in the direction of the sound.
My gaze passed through the swirling Kitsuchi loess.
A two-meter-tall manganese steel mech.
We slowly drove out along the dirt road leading to the sewer.
The red glass eyes reflected a cold light in the sunlight.
The mecha's right mechanical arm dragged on the ground.
The massive metal claws were clamping down tightly on the back of a corpse's collar.
The body was dragged along the dirt road.
The gray prison uniform was torn by the gravel along the way, revealing skin and bones on the thighs.
A long, human-shaped trail of water was left behind.
The watermarks contained glaring red and black bloodstains.
Hiruzen's gaze traveled upwards along the clothes.
I saw the corpse's face clearly.
Most of his head was gone.
Only the sunken lower half of his face remained.
His chin was tilted to the left, with bone fragments sticking out.
The right eye socket was an empty, bloody hole. There was nothing inside.
Hiruzen's breathing stopped.
My heart felt like it was being nailed shut by a cold iron nail.
He would recognize this face even if it turned to ashes.
That was his old teammate with whom he had fought and schemed for decades.
Shimura Danzō.
Just yesterday, they were together at a high-level meeting in the Hokage Building.
Now, it's being dragged along by the armored machines like a dead dog.
Brains splattered on the ground. A corpse torn to shreds.
"Clatter."
Hiruzen limp.
All his strength was instantly drained.
More than thirty solid red bricks slipped from his hands.
It slammed heavily onto the instep of his foot.
He hit the ground again, breaking several pieces. Shards of red brick splattered onto his cast iron shackles.
He couldn't feel the pain in the instep.
Hiruzen stood still.
A pair of eyes were fixed on the mangled corpse that was being dragged further and further away.
His body trembled violently and uncontrollably. The chains clanged against each other with a soft, rattling sound.