Unfortunately, Gamamaru's genjutsu was completely ineffective against Uchiha Shiran. He simply turned around, raised his hand, and unleashed a torrent of demonic energy.
"Urgh!" Fukasaku and Shima didn't even have time to leave any last words. The magic overwhelmed them in an instant, reducing them to dust—body, soul, everything—completely obliterated.
The Great Toad Sage's eyes widened in disbelief. Aged and never much of a fighter, he was shaken by the sudden death of Fukasaku and Shima. That brief moment of shock was all it took—Shiran seized the opportunity and pinned him in place.
To his horror, the Great Toad Sage found himself completely immobilized. The senjutsu chakra in his body had gone still, like dead water. He was helpless.
"Just what are you…?" The sage's voice trembled, but before he could finish, Shiran silenced him. He had no patience for the dying words of an enemy.
With a flash, the massive crimson toad was decapitated. Blood gushed like a fountain as his thousand-year-old soul was ripped from his body and devoured—just another snack for the demon.
Once the blood had drained, Shiran peeled off the toad's skin, revealing the sinew and fat underneath. Demonic energy shaped itself into blades that stripped muscle from bone—methodical, like a chef meticulously prepping a rare ingredient.
Before long, the Great Toad Sage's organs and flesh had been neatly sliced apart. With a snap of his fingers, a massive cauldron appeared, flames crackling beneath it.
It was a special hotpot, used by demons. Shiran tossed the fatty meat into the boiling liquid. The smell that rose was greasy and strange, a pungent, oily scent that filled the air.
He sprinkled in a few spices and took a taste.
Still raw.
The thousand-year-old toad meat was tough and gamy, no better than the dragons, phoenixes, or cultivators demons had eaten in the past. Disgusting, really. It couldn't compare to livestock bred for taste. Its only merit was its novelty—and perhaps, a few unique effects.
Eating it slightly enhanced one's sensitivity and absorption of natural energy. That was about it.
Once he'd had his fill, Shiran dismissed the pot and tossed the leftover meat aside. Then, at a leisurely pace, he headed out.
The toads outside had no idea what had just occurred in the palace. They only gave him a few curious glances—no alarm, no suspicion.
Toads often interacted with the shinobi world. Over the years, they'd grown used to humans coming and going. Seeing a stranger emerge from the Sage's palace wasn't all that unusual. Most assumed he was a newly contracted summoner.
Shiran wandered the slopes of Mount Myōboku, and wherever he stepped, his shadow leaked dark tendrils of demonic energy that slowly sealed the entire realm.
It wasn't a high-level technique. He'd used it often back in a cultivation realm, where it was useful for trapping space-manipulating enemies, cutting off their escape.
Mount Myōboku wasn't large. He covered its entirety quickly.
...
"Hey! You there! You the Sage's new summoner or something?" a loud voice called out.
A massive red toad stood in the distance, a large smoking pipe in his mouth and a giant blade strapped to his waist.
Two more toads stood behind him. One was dark red, holding a massive spiked trident. The other was blue, with twin swords strapped across its back.
Shiran turned to look at them and casually raised a hand.
The three giant toads were immediately nailed to the ground, unable to move.
Threads of demonic energy wove into a deadly mesh, slicing through them like countless blades. In a matter of seconds, they were reduced to pulpy heaps of gore.
The entire process was swift, brutal—and almost disturbingly beautiful in its carnage.
Nearby toads were stunned by the sudden violence.
But before they could react, a tempest of demonic winds swept outward, filling the sky like a black storm.
Toads were struck and exploded on the spot, their bodies bursting open like grotesque blossoms—bloody petals splattering across the mountain, painting it red.
Uchiha Shiran strolled through the crimson carnage. He relished these macabre landscapes. Every living thing in his sight was slaughtered without hesitation. He left the corpses where they fell, but devoured their souls whole.
It wasn't long before Mount Myōboku was awash in blood. Not a single toad survived—not even the tadpoles or eggs.
"Leave no survivors, leave no loose ends." That was a demon's creed.
"I wonder if any of them managed to escape by being summoned into the shinobi world by Jiraiya..." Shiran mused, then turned and walked away.
One of the Three Great Sage Lands, Mount Myōboku, had vanished—silently, without resistance. And the demon had no intention of sparing the other two.
...
Ryūchi Cave would be easy. Karin had already infiltrated the Akatsuki, giving him plenty of opportunities to interact with Orochimaru.
Orochimaru was simple. As long as you were strong and offered something he was curious about, he'd trade or cooperate.
And Shiran had no shortage of bargaining chips—ancient secrets of the ninja world and an exclusive sample of Indra's chakra. That was all it took. Orochimaru happily sold out both Ryūchi Cave and Konoha.
That snake never had much integrity to begin with.
Orochimaru had so many survival contingencies that killing him outright would be tedious and time-consuming. Otherwise, the demon would've cut ties and finished him off long ago. He could wait until everything else was settled.
...
Technically, Konoha still existed—but not as a shinobi village. It had become a civilian organization.
Hiruzen Sarutobi couldn't accept the fall of Konoha. After regrouping with the remaining loyalists, he continued to call himself the Third Hokage, naming their temporary base "Konoha" and insisting that the Daimyō must've been placed under genjutsu by Uchiha Sasuke. He truly believed that one day, order would be restored and the Will of Fire reborn.
But in their hasty retreat, they hadn't brought many supplies. To survive, Konoha's remaining ninja were forced to take on side jobs.
The line between honor and disgrace is thin—and once crossed, it's a fast slide into the abyss.
"When the granaries are full, people know courtesy; when they are well-fed and clothed, they know honor and shame."
Unfortunately, the remnants of Konoha had neither the food nor the clothes. Banditry became their way of life. Doing a few dirty jobs was the better case. Some had already resorted to arson and murder.
One night, Asuma Sarutobi completed another assassination contract. He accepted the payment with a heavy heart and crept back toward "Konoha" under the cover of darkness.
As the son of Hiruzen Sarutobi, he had no choice but to follow his father. Now that they were cut off from Konoha and he no longer held the title of Hokage's son, Asuma finally understood the hardships of the smaller villages and the rogue ninja.
He used to look down on those types—thought they were lazy, unmotivated, always scrambling for petty gains. But now that he'd become one of them, he realized how naïve he had been. Like asking someone starving in the streets, "Why don't you eat meat porridge?"
If people had a stable life, enough to eat, and a good background, who wouldn't want to be a shining, noble shinobi?
But reality was harsh. To survive, they had to crawl through filth.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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