Chapter 115: Master of Puppets! I Will Turn You Into Eternal Art
Boom!
It was as if a bolt of thunder had struck the crown of his head.
The Daimyo froze in place, staring at the red wine stains on the floor, suddenly feeling his stomach churn.
So every sip of wine he had just drunk, every inch of silk he wore, and even the flow of every brick and tile in this palace was providing blood to the enemy who wanted to annex him?
An unprecedented sense of humiliation instantly shattered the Daimyo's reason.
"That's my money! It's the Land of Rivers' money!"
The Daimyo roared hysterically, his face distorted like a frenzied wild boar: "Since they control the chamber of commerce, then snatch it back! Pass down the order! The Imperial Guard is to set out immediately and seize all the vaults of the Maeda Chamber of Commerce! Arrest all the Amegakure messengers in the city; I want to chop them into pieces at the city gate and feed them to the dogs!"
As long as one has a blade in hand, merchants can only kneel!
This was the only truth in these troubled times!
"Yes! This general obeys the command!"
The Grand General, who had been waiting outside the hall, drew his katana and responded with a face full of Killing Intent.
At that very moment.
The originally earth-shattering clamor outside the palace suddenly vanished without any warning.
It was as if an invisible giant hand had crudely pressed the mute button.
Dead silence.
That viscous, suffocating silence poured back in through the wide-open palace gates, making the Daimyo shiver for no reason.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of crisp footsteps rang out.
There were no thousands of troops, only two people.
Against the piercing sunlight, two figures wearing black robes with red clouds stepped over the high threshold as if taking a leisurely stroll.
The tall man on the left held a black briefcase, his face covered by a mask that hid the lower half of his face. There was no emotion in those emerald-green eyes, only the cold indifference of looking at dead objects, as if he were calculating the recycling price of the Daimyo's head.
On the right was a freak hunched inside a crimson Puppet, his icy gaze beneath that steel mask looking as if he were sizing up a pile of materials waiting to be dismantled.
Facing the three hundred elite Imperial Guards who had already drawn their blades outside the hall, they were as composed as if they were strolling through their own backyard.
"Are you... the messengers of Amegakure?"
The commander of the Imperial Guard broke into a cold sweat; his primal instinct told him that these two were extremely dangerous. He let out a loud roar to embolden himself: "Fire! Shoot them dead!"
Hundreds of archers released their bowstrings simultaneously.
However, the expected sound of ten thousand arrows piercing the air did not ring out.
"Creak, creak."
The tooth-grinding sound of bone friction echoed in front of the hall, sounding like rusty gears being forced to turn.
All the soldiers discovered in horror that their fingers seemed to be welded to the bowstrings, unable to be released no matter how hard they tried. Not only that, their legs, arms, and even their necks lost control at this moment.
"Is this... a Demonic Technique?!"
The Daimyo slumped back onto his throne, his eyes bulging, filled with disbelief.
But in Sasori of the Red Sand's vision, the world had already turned into a massive, three-dimensional spider web.
This was the Domain of the Stand Master of Puppets.
Countless Chakra threads, invisible to ordinary people and extending from Sasori's fingertips, had already spread across the plaza like a plague.
Unlike ordinary Chakra threads, these threads ignored the physical defense of armor, directly penetrating the skin and precisely adhering to every bone joint and nerve node of these soldiers.
"The structure of creatures like humans is truly so simple it's laughable."
Sasori, hidden within hiruko, gently moved his ten fingers in the air, as if playing a silent piano piece of death.
"Since you have already fallen into my web... then dance."
Sasori's pinky finger twitched slightly.
Puchi!
Without any warning, the Imperial Guard commander who had been roaring at Sasori suddenly had a distorted face, with tears and snot flowing, yet his body performed a completely contrary action—
He spun around abruptly, and the katana in his hand reversed at a bizarre angle that human joints could absolutely not achieve, stabbing fiercely into the chest of the lieutenant beside him!
"Commander?! What are you doing?!"
"No! My hand... my hand won't listen! Help! Aaargh!"
Puff! Puff! Puff!
In the next second, the entire palace turned into a slaughterhouse.
The three hundred elite samurai were now all reduced to Puppets in Sasori's hands. Their movements were stiff and grotesque, their joints making overburdened popping sounds as they cried out in despair while swinging their blades at their former comrades.
This was Absolute Domination.
Blood splattered onto the exquisite screens, and severed limbs flew into the steaming hot spring pools, instantly dyeing the spring water red.
Even more terrifyingly, the skin of the soldiers who had been connected to the threads for a longer time began to take on a bizarre grayish-pale color, and their muscles gradually hardened, as if they were truly transforming from living people into Puppets.
And Sasori, who caused all of this, hadn't moved a single step from beginning to end.
"Boring material," Sasori commented with some disappointment. "It breaks with just a little force; it doesn't even have the qualification to become a collection piece."
"Mon... monsters... they're all monsters!"
The Daimyo was so terrified that he lost control of his bowels, and a foul stench spread. He slumped on the throne, shrinking back desperately until there was nowhere left to retreat.
Two minutes.
In just two minutes, the screams inside the hall completely ceased.
Aside from the corpses strewn across the floor and the heavy scent of blood, there was not a single standing samurai left.
Tap, tap.
Kakuzu stepped through the viscous blood, avoiding a severed hand that was still twitching, and walked straight to the throne.
He didn't use any Ninjutsu, and not even a trace of Killing Intent leaked from his body.
He was just like a diligent accountant, calmly opening his briefcase and taking out that Security Treaty that had previously been thrown on the floor by the Daimyo.
He even thoughtfully used his gloved hand to smooth out the creases on the paper, his movements as elegant as if he were handling a work of art.
"It seems your country indeed has major'security risks'."
Kakuzu pointed to the corpses on the ground, his tone devoid of any emotion: "This kind of internal riot is very dangerous. To quell this disturbance, we utilized S-rank human resources. This falls under expedited service outside of the contract."
He pulled out a gold pen, heavily crossed out the original amount on the document, and rewrote a suffocating number next to it.
"The security service fee needs to be increased by 20% as a site cleaning fee and mental distress compensation for this time."
Kakuzu handed the pen to the Daimyo's trembling hand, those green eyes staring at him quietly, as if looking at a pig that could sign its name:
"Now, can we sign?"