Under pressure, the secretary of Tsuchimikado quickly booked a room and escorted Yagura to the hotel to rest.
Yagura thanked him briefly, tossed the map at him, and instructed him to prepare a new location for tomorrow.
He maintained a cold and ruthless demeanor, one that reassured the client.
Once inside, he locked the door.
Swiftly, he went through the motions—showering, changing into casual clothes, and lying down with his eyes closed—all in one seamless flow.
The battle had taken more out of him than expected.
A water clone only possessed a tenth of the original's strength, so even against those artisan ninja, it had taken some effort and time.
As a result, the chakra consumption had been greater than anticipated.
But this conflict clearly wasn't something that could be resolved by killing a few dozen or even a hundred artisan ninja.
At its core, it was a struggle over economic interests.
Unless all the ninja of the Artisan Villages disappeared entirely—unless the Land of Artisans was completely dominated by these powerful groups with no one left to stand in their way—this issue would persist.
Disappear…?
A thought took shape in Yagura's mind.
But the exhaustion from prolonged combat was overwhelming. Before he knew it, he had drifted into sleep.
...
"They… all died in battle?"
Later that evening.
At the center of the Land of Artisans, within the Artisan Ninja Village.
The sun, half-set, hung low on the horizon, casting golden light over the buildings and streets.
"Yes."
The intelligence officer fought to maintain composure, but tears still streamed down his face.
"Tetsuya, along with Jinsei and Kuroori—three Jonin stationed at the Tsuchimikado iron mines—along with their subordinates, one hundred and thirty-three Chunin and Genin, have all been confirmed dead."
"The remaining ninja left behind by Jinsei and Kuroori stayed on guard, but when the two failed to return for too long, they went to investigate and confirmed the worst. After reporting back, a recovery team is now being assembled… to bring back the bodies."
The two village advisors and other administrative staff in the room exchanged uneasy glances before lowering their heads, each with different expressions.
BANG!
"Impossible!"
The head of the Artisan Ninja Village slammed a hand on the table, sending documents flying as he pointed at the intelligence officer, his voice trembling with anger.
"This is nonsense! False information! It must be fake!"
He stormed out from behind his desk, throwing his arms wide as if to reject reality itself.
"There's no way! Absolutely no way!"
His gaze, sharp enough to pierce flesh, swept across everyone in the room, desperately seeking affirmation.
"Three Jonin! Over a hundred of our ninja!"
"You all know how strong Tetsuya is! And Jinsei and Kuroori are among our best Jonin!"
"Even if the enemy had the same numbers—over a hundred ninja and three Jonin—they should have at least suffered heavy losses! How could they be wiped out so completely?"
"Is that even possible?! No! The mercenary ninja hired by those groups operate in small squads of three or four! Are you seriously telling me that just a handful of enemy ninja could annihilate three full squads led by our Jonin? Huh?!"
His heavy breathing echoed in the silent room.
For several seconds, no one dared to speak. Each person averted their gaze, staring at the ground.
"Leader."
The intelligence officer, his voice firm despite his fear, continued his report.
"According to our intelligence, the enemy was likely from Kirigakure. And there was only one of them."
A rush of blood surged to the village leader's head, making him dizzy.
"You…"
He gripped the edge of the desk for support, steadying himself. Then, pointing at the intelligence officer and the two advisors, he barked,
"You three—stay. The rest, leave."
"Yes."
A chorus of hushed voices responded, and the other personnel quietly filed out, careful not to make a sound.
One of the advisors helped the village leader back into his seat.
His trembling hands reached for a pen, his eyes burning holes into the map that displayed the locations of their deployed ninja.
Moments ago, in front of everyone, he had been the one most vehemently rejecting reality.
But the truth was undeniable. The moment the intelligence officer had spoken, everyone understood.
In a single battle, the Artisan Ninja Village had lost three Jonin and over a hundred ninja.
"How many ninja do we have left? How many Jonin?"
The advisor responsible for military affairs promptly answered, "Leader, we have twenty-seven Jonin remaining, with a total of 3,378 registered ninja."
Even for the Five Great Ninja Villages, suffering losses on this scale wouldn't be crippling, but it would still be a heavy blow.
For a small ninja village like the Artisan Ninja Village, which lacked the numbers of the Five Great Hidden Villages, this was nothing short of catastrophic.
One-ninth of their Jonin. One thirty-third of their Chunin and Genin.
For any village, losing that percentage of its forces at once would be considered a devastating loss.
The village leader fought to stay conscious, suppressing the dizziness that threatened to overtake him. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to write and speak, preparing for the worst.
"Arrange for the retrieval of our fallen comrades' bodies. Deliver compensation and condolences to their families."
"Have the medical unit ready—save as many survivors as possible."
"And send this intelligence to all our deployed squads. Withdraw them as quickly as possible."
"Withdraw?" One of the advisors looked stunned. "Then… the blockade against those bastards—are we lifting it?"
The village leader clenched his pen tightly, his voice bitter. "At least for now, we can't afford to maintain it."
Those bastards had somehow hired such a powerful ninja.
Their Jonin might not match those of the Five Great Ninja Villages, but the gap shouldn't have been this wide.
If a single enemy could wipe out over a hundred of their men, they had to be at least an elite Jonin.
Right now, the enemy was hidden while they were exposed. If they left their squads outside, that Kirigakure ninja could pick them off one by one. That would be a disaster for the village.
He couldn't take that risk.
The two advisors and the intelligence officer weren't fools. Though they were a step slower to react, they soon understood his reasoning.
One advisor hesitated before asking, "What do we tell the blacksmiths?"
If it were an ordinary client, they could simply apologize and turn them away.
But these craftsmen and blacksmiths were family—fathers, uncles, brothers, sisters—to many of the Artisan Village's ninja.
It was an impossible conversation.
"Just tell them the truth."
The village leader rubbed his temples, veins throbbing. "They'll understand."
What was more important—profits or their children's lives?
At worst, they would abandon this golden opportunity to do business with the Five Great Nations.
Once the war ended and prices stabilized, they could return to their usual trade.
Besides, they had already seized a considerable amount of iron ore in recent days. The logistics team was still taking inventory, but the stockpile would sustain them for a while.
For now, the village leader had made his decision—to temporarily retreat.
And when that Kirigakure ninja was gone, they could always try again.
After all, the Artisan Ninja were the true protectors of this land.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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