"Clatter."
Two solid red bricks slipped from Hiruzen's hands.
It slammed heavily onto the instep of his bare right foot.
My foot instantly turned a large purplish-blue. The rough corner of the red brick scraped my skin raw.
Dark red blood immediately seeped out, flowing between his toes and into the Kitsuchi.
The mud was mixed with blood, turning into a dark red paste.
But Hiruzen was like a piece of dried-out wood.
He didn't even flinch back; his ten toes were firmly gripping the hard clods of earth.
He seemed to feel no pain anymore.
Hiruzen's eyes were fixed on the dirt road ahead.
Their gazes were fixed on the mech guarding the distance.
More precisely, it was locked to the mangled corpse being dragged by the mech's mechanical arm.
My breathing became extremely rapid.
It was like a broken bellows that had run out of oil, hissing and sucking from deep in its throat.
That's Danzo.
Shimura Danzō.
Teammates of decades. Accompanying each other from childhood, trained under the Second Hokage.
That schemer who built the Root from scratch and spent half his life scheming in the shadows.
Now he's dead, like an unclaimed stray dog.
Most of its head was gone. The red and white rotting flesh was exposed to the air.
The right eye socket was a hollow, bloody hole. It was dark inside.
The corpse was being dragged backwards by cold, steel machinery.
Mud was smeared on his gray prison uniform.
On the Kitsuchi road covered with tire tracks, a sticky, bloody wet trail was left behind.
Several greenbottle flies, attracted by the smell of blood, buzzed around the headless corpse.
His neck stiffened Hiruzen, his joints making a dry, cracking sound.
He slowly turned his head.
My gaze shifted from the bloodstain to the surrounding construction site.
There was no blue sky overhead.
The thick, yellowish-black smoke, like a heavy, dirty blanket, completely enveloped the construction site.
The sunlight couldn't penetrate the smoke layer; only a dim, yellowish light shone down.
Inside the blast furnace chimney not far away.
It spewed out tongues of orange-red flame dozens of meters high. The Kakkō distorted and warped the surrounding air.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of coal dust and the acrid odor of sulfuric acid.
Taking a breath makes my lungs burn.
"Boom! Boom!"
The heavy tracked vehicle rolled over the gravel, making a teeth-grinding grinding sound.
The steam pile driver pounded the ground again and again.
The tremors made the soil beneath my feet feel numb. The sensation traveled from the soles of my feet all the way to my thighs.
"Smack!"
A crisp sound, accompanied by blue sparks.
A dozen meters away, a man from the Hyuga Branch Family, carrying two bags of cement, tripped.
His knees slammed hard against the pile of bricks, and he fell face-first to the ground.
The cement bag broke, and grayish-white powder flew all over my head and face.
The man choked and coughed, spitting out a mouthful of gray phlegm.
A Uchiha Jōkan wearing a red armband walked over.
Black leather boots stepped on the cement powder.
The leather whip in his hand was wrapped in Lightning Release Chakra, and it lashed directly across the man's bare back.
"Playing dead? Get up and move it!"
A charred, bloody welt immediately swelled up on the man's back.
The skin and flesh were rolled up, and a wisp of burnt white smoke rose from it.
He didn't even dare to shout; he scrambled to his feet.
He picked up the tattered bag with his dust-covered hands and hoisted it back onto his bleeding shoulder.
He walked forward with a hunched back and a limp.
The ninjas carrying bricks passing by all seemed blind; not a single one turned to look.
Hiruzen watched this scene unfold.
A spasm ran through my stomach. Acidity surged upwards, all the way to my throat.
Something in my brain shattered completely.
He used to think that all he had to do was endure.
Leading the Sarutobi Clan to work on the construction site. As long as the green hills remain.
As long as people are still here, as long as the bonds remain.
One day, we will be able to awaken the village with the " Will of Fire " and remind everyone of the warmth they once felt.
He always thought it was just an overly aggressive power transfer.
But he was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Shu Shiraishi wasn't trying to maintain any political balance.
He is creating a god. Creating an emotionless, steel empire.
This is a meat grinder created purely to crush the Shinobi World.
Konoha has become a monster.
A monster that only recognizes steel, gunpowder, and efficiency.
What bonds? What love based on mutual understanding?
Compared to the black smoke billowing from the chimneys and the rumbling tracks, it's not even a thin sheet of paper.
They were mercilessly crushed and turned into minced meat under the tracks.
Danzo is dead.
He died without a sound. There was no funeral, no tombstone. Only the liquid used to dissolve his body.
Who's next?
Nobody cares.
This roaring war machine only needs the Chakra in its generator. It only needs laborers to carry bricks.
No living people are needed.
Hiruzen's thigh muscles twitched suddenly.
All the strength flowed away into the mud beneath his feet.
"Thump."
His knees buckled, and he knelt heavily in the muddy ground covered with footprints.
Mud and water splattered on his bruised calves.
The cast iron shackles on their ankles clanged together.
Their psychological defenses crumbled.
My nerves, stretched taut for so many days, snapped in two like a rope pulled to its limit.
He opened his mouth.
His facial features were completely distorted. Old Pi was squeezed together.
"Wow--"
Hiruzen into tears.
He showed absolutely no dignity befitting a former Hokage candidate.
The crying sounded awful, like a night owl in heat—hoarse and cracking.
Tears welled up like a burst dam.
Snot dripped down and clung to his chapped lips.
He used his hands, which were covered in blisters and grime, to wipe it.
His face was covered in black mud. Tears streamed down, leaving two comical shallow lines in the mud.
He braced himself firmly on the ground with both hands, his fingers digging into the soil.
His head was smashed in the mud, and his forehead was covered in dirty water.
Her shoulders were trembling violently. She was crying so hard she couldn't breathe. Her lungs were throbbing with pain.
He was crying for Danzo, but he was also crying for himself. He was crying for Konoha, a place he could never return to.
Workers carrying bricks passed by.
Some people stepped aside, afraid of stepping on his hand.
The Uchiha overseer glanced over from a distance, twirled the leather whip in his hand, and didn't bother to come over.
On a construction site, crying is the least valuable sound.
Tears can't even buy half a cornbread.
The crying gradually subsided.
It turned into intermittent dry heaving. Bile dripped from his chin onto the muddy ground.
Hiruzen slowly raised his head.
The last glimmer of life in his eyes vanished.
All that remained was ashes, murky like a wastewater pit in the corner of a construction site.
He lost his last shred of will to resist.
There was no more scheming in his mind. No more Will of Fire.
It's empty.
He blankly stretched out his trembling hands.
The fingernails were filled with black dirt.
He touched the two broken red bricks on the instep.
I grabbed it and held it in my arms. The rough brick surface rubbed against my arm.
He supported himself on his knees and slowly stood up.
The iron chain dragged on the ground, rattling loudly.
Like a soulless marionette, he turned and walked towards the old pulley crane.
Put the bricks into the basket. Turn around and go move more.
He had become nothing more than a numb cog in the machine.
On the dirt road.
Shu Shiraishi stepped on the pebbles on the ground.
Earth Flow at a leisurely pace.
The hem of the black trench coat swayed slightly in the hot air. The military boots landed with a clatter.
He passed by Hiruzen, less than two meters away.
Shu Shiraishi's gaze was level with the front of him.
His indifferent profile resembled a piece of frozen iron.
He didn't even spare a glance for the old man holding half a brick.
Even glancing at it is a waste of time.
Directly ahead.
A person emerged from the shadows of the crisscrossing scaffolding.
Orochimaru.
He took long strides and walked at a very fast pace.
The hem of the white lab coat fluttered, releasing a pungent chemical smell.
Orochimaru quickly walked up to Shu Shiraishi and stopped.
The rubber-soled shoes made a quick, sharp sound as they scraped against the gravel.
He gripped a black file folder tightly in both hands.
The knuckles of his fingers were so pale they were almost transparent from excessive force.
He had pinched several deep creases into the edges of the thick kraft paper file folder.
Orochimaru was panting.
His narrow, yellowish eyes held an almost morbid fanaticism.
The muscles around his eye sockets twitched with excitement, and the twitching was very rapid.
His chapped lips were slightly parted. He stuck out his tongue and vigorously licked the corners of his mouth.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
" Lord Shu."
Orochimaru's voice was hoarse, trembling uncontrollably.
"We just received data from the chemical plant."
He moved the black file folder forward half an inch.
The red string sealing the bag swayed slightly.
"The ultimate weapon of the first phase."
Orochimaru grinned.
He gave a nervous smile. His teeth looked somewhat white in the dim light.
"Finally, we can wrap this up."