Akatsuki Village would be facing nothing but ordinary people without the strength to resist. On average a single shuriken could settle one.
At most, they possessed a bit of influence.
But so-called influence collapses before real force. Storming into Chang'an is truly easier than testing into Chang'an.
However, Konoha remained a major headache.
It was not that Uchiha Makoto feared Konoha would suddenly awaken. The traditional shackles and fixed imprint on shinobi in the Hokage world did not change even by the time Uzumaki Naruto became the Seventh Hokage.
Even so, given how serious this matter was, Konoha would certainly catch some wind of it. Based on traditional shinobi thinking they would not proactively interfere. To shinobi, military affairs are military affairs and politics and economics are politics and economics, two parallel lines.
Uchiha Makoto only worried that nobles might spend money to hire Konoha shinobi to strike at Akatsuki Village.
Only shinobi can deal with shinobi.
"If the nobles, driven into a corner, run to Konoha, that will be trouble."
"So this time we have to move fast. Send out every shinobi of Akatsuki and split them up. Begin with courtesy before force. First send fruit baskets to those salt merchants. Then watch them from the shadows, track their every move, give them only a few days to think. If that fails, persuade them by physical means."
"As for the Daimyō, I will speak to him myself afterward."
Uchiha Makoto made his decision quickly. He had to prepare in advance. Unifying the salt market and eliminating competitors had to be done fast.
The very next day,
he swiftly convened the clans for an emergency meeting.
At the meeting:
"This time our targets are salt merchants big and small throughout the Land of Fire. Deal with the major merchants first, and with the umbrellas behind them. With those people our methods can be gentler. As for the small merchants, use your own judgment. Speed matters most. Regardless of life or death, regardless of process, I need them silent."
"As for intelligence, the newly formed Anbu have already been gathering it in secret. You must fully cooperate with every Anbu operation."
"I am done speaking. Who is in favor, who is against?"
Uchiha Makoto did not explain why he was suddenly purging salt merchants.
It would have been pointless.
With these old-school clans, explain and they will not listen, listen and they will not understand, understand and they still may not act. Better to issue orders directly.
As his words fell,
Uchiha Makoto beckoned. A large group of Anbu shinobi burst into the room and took position behind each clan representative, then shouted in unison, "Loyalty!"
The clan representatives stared, startled, at the Anbu around them.
Uniform black combat gear patterned with red clouds, masks on their faces, an oppressive aura rolling off them, black iron batons in hand, standing motionless like carved wood behind their backs. Most importantly, these Anbu members were from their own clans.
On a day of such magnitude, the clan heads had not heard even a whisper.
Sending clan youths into the Anbu was not only to serve the village. They had their own calculations. In the Anbu one could access more information. The more village secrets, the more advantage for the clan. Yet the present scene left them at a loss.
Uchiha Makoto took in the sight before him, the varied expressions on the faces of each clan representative, and the corners of his mouth curled. A smile appeared, and he even hummed softly.
To forge an Anbu that answered only to him, Uchiha Makoto had racked his brains. The principle was not complicated. It was crowd psychology. Once, a German high-school civics teacher built a dictatorship called The Wave in only six days.
Every clan shinobi who met the standard was brought by Uchiha Makoto to a secret training base. There he imposed a unified combat uniform, set up rules to strip away individual distinctiveness and lower egos, forged a tightly knit group, picked out the troublemakers for a second screening, then raised up an imaginary enemy. Through missions he selected those with weak spots in character who were willing to choose self-sacrifice and could move the team, greatly strengthening group consciousness. Gradually their label shifted from clan member to Anbu member. Their real identities were hidden beneath the collective, unleashing boundless power. Knowledge is power indeed.
On this foundation,
he gave them ample logistical support and funding with no need to worry about the rear. Coupled with the shinobi-as-tools doctrine, once the individual fully merged into the group, the consequences were obvious.
Now a brand-new Anbu that obeyed only Lord Lightshadow had been successfully molded.
The conference room fell silent.
The atmosphere grew suffocating.
The black iron batons behind them threw off a blinding gleam,
making it hard to keep one's eyes open.
Perhaps
the Anbu standing at his back was his own clan's youth.
"If I refuse, will these batons come down on my head at once?"
An absurd yet very real thought rose in the minds of the clan representatives.
They did not understand
how clan youths, simply by entering the Anbu for such a short time, could have become like this. The oppressive, indescribable feeling made their whole bodies uncomfortable.
"I agree."
"I agree."
"…"
One, two, three… hands began to rise.
Partly it was the batons over their heads. Partly it was that the mission Uchiha Makoto issued was not difficult. Strictly speaking, they were D and C rank. For a shinobi, killing an ordinary person is all too easy.
They only felt that mobilizing on such a scale, sending everyone out to carry out so many D and C ranks, was making a mountain out of a molehill. But the batons looming behind their heads were very persuasive.
"Very good."
"Raise every mission by one rank to B. For targets with special status, their missions will be raised to A rank or even S rank."
After putting his authority on display, Uchiha Makoto showed the power of money. How much could these missions cost anyway? At most a few hundred million ryō. Compared to monopolizing the trade, that was pocket change.
"Yes, Lord Lightshadow!"
The clans answered. Their earlier discontent turned into delight.
In the end it was about money.
Before, they had been made to do D-rank construction jobs inside the village, never leaving home, using shadow clones to finish several at once. Now they had to run all over the Land of Fire, and could only complete one D-rank at a time.
Along the way they would be eating wind and sleeping rough, even downing soldier pills to rush without rest.
If the effort brought no return,
how could they answer to their clan shinobi?
With more pay,
everything was different.
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I have published a new novel. You can check it out on my profile. The title is:
Naruto: Can You Be an Uchiha Without Doing What You Want?
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