Chapter 170 – The Death of the Land of Lightning's Daimyō
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The clash in the capital had already turned into a massacre.
The outnumbered Kumogakure shinobi stood frozen, their faces pale as they stared at the army of Konoha ninja closing in.
"There are over twenty jōnin on their side…" one muttered, trembling.
That was ten times their own number.
Even seasoned Cloud veterans felt despair creeping into their bones. Were they fighting to hold back Konoha — or simply waiting to die at its hands?
The Konoha commander at the front stood calm and still amidst the chaos, his Sharingan eyes glinting like burning coals.
The three Cloud jōnin exchanged brief glances. There was only one option left.
If we can't escape… then we take their leader!
"To capture a bandit, seize the chief!"
They moved in perfect unison, lightning chakra flaring across their blades as they lunged toward the Uchiha captain.
But the commander didn't even flinch.
Instead, he sneered — a cold, knowing curve of his lips that made their hearts stop for an instant.
Then they saw them — multiple pairs of Three-Tomoe Sharingan spinning around him like a storm of scarlet.
Their world blurred.
Their reflexes faltered.
And in the blink of an eye, the three Cloud jōnin fell — lifeless before they even realized how they died.
"Advance," said Uchiha Yashiro, stepping over their corpses.
The Leaf forces surged forward, overwhelming the remaining Cloud shinobi. Within moments, the capital's defenders had been annihilated.
Now, the true purpose of their assault began.
Yashiro divided his men into small tactical teams.
"Fan out. Hit every key point — armories, banks, noble houses. Leave no resistance standing."
As for the Daimyō's Residence, Yashiro led that attack himself.
Anyone who dared to resist was cut down without hesitation.
He stopped a fleeing servant by the collar.
"Where is your lord?"
The man stammered incoherently. Yashiro slit his throat and grabbed another.
It took three terrified witnesses before he finally got a clear answer. The fourth never had the chance to thank him — Yashiro silenced him with a single kunai thrust and moved on.
Within moments, Yashiro and his strike squad infiltrated the palace through an upper window.
Inside, the Daimyō of the Land of Lightning was already attempting to flee — his jeweled robe trailing behind him, heavy with gold and silk.
"Stop them!" shouted a middle-aged minister beside him.
The palace guards raised their spears and charged.
A spray of senbon whistled through the air — thud, thud, thud! — dropping them before they could take two steps.
The remaining guards froze.
They, too, recognized the emblem on the invaders' foreheads: the Leaf of Konoha.
And they were not fools.
To pit ordinary men against shinobi — against these shinobi — was nothing but suicide.
The minister still screamed orders, spittle flying from his mouth.
"You cowards! Protect your lord—"
A kunai silenced him mid-sentence. He fell clutching his neck, eyes wide, drowning in his own blood.
That was all it took for the remaining guards to scatter in terror.
Uchiha Yashiro didn't pursue. "Not worth the effort," he muttered.
He turned his gaze on the trembling Daimyō, who had collapsed onto the polished marble floor.
"W-wait! Please!" the Daimyō stammered, waving his plump hands frantically. "Take whatever you want! Just don't kill me!"
Yashiro raised an eyebrow. "Where's the treasury?"
That was all it took. The Daimyō broke instantly, spilling every secret he had.
Moments later, Yashiro and his team stormed the underground vault. Inside lay a fortune — hundreds of millions of ryō in gold and banknotes, the lifeblood of the nation.
The Uchiha smiled faintly. "This alone could fund a new division in Konoha."
Outside, other Leaf squads moved freely through the city, looting gambling halls, merchant banks, and noble estates.
None could stand against them.
By the time the sun began to dip behind the mountains, it was over.
Uchiha Yashiro's team was the last to emerge — carrying not only the Daimyō's wealth but the Daimyō himself, dragged before the man who had orchestrated the destruction of Kumogakure.
Uchiha Fugaku, the current Hokage of Konoha, stood with calm authority as his men knelt before him.
"Hokage-sama," Yashiro said respectfully, "what shall we do with the Daimyō of the Land of Lightning?"
Fugaku's eyes were cold as obsidian.
"Kill him. He's useless to us alive."
The Daimyō's heart seized in his chest. He had thought himself spared. He had given up his treasure — surely that bought his life?
But the look in the Uchiha's eyes told him otherwise.
"Wait! You said you wouldn't—"
The plea was cut short by steel. His cry echoed once — then silence.
The Daimyō of the Land of Lightning was dead.
With their mission complete, the Konoha shinobi vanished into the night, their movement silent, efficient, merciless.
The capital burned behind them, and its wealth now lined Konoha's coffers.
If the Daimyō had lived another hour, he might have heard the rumors spreading across the sea — whispers reaching even the mist-shrouded islands of the Land of Water.
In the Mizukage's office, Yagura Karatachi slammed his fist onto his desk, his eyes bloodshot.
"Kumogakure… destroyed by Konoha?"
He wanted to deny it. But deep inside, a flicker of relief kindled beneath his rage.
One rival had fallen. Another storm was coming.
And the world of the shinobi trembled once again.
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