Gazing at the vibrant scene before him, teeming with life and competition, Hane Genma momentarily wondered if he was treading an irreversible path toward madness.
Fortunately, his mental state remained remarkably stable. The first time he cultivated the writhing tendrils of the Earth Grudge Fear, he felt a fleeting surge of excitement. But now, whenever he encountered such a sight, it only churned his stomach.
Unless he was infusing chakra into the experiment, he stayed in the laboratory. Otherwise, he kept as far away from this place as possible.
Surprisingly, other shinobi, though they never set foot inside, instinctively avoided the area, as if sensing an eerie atmosphere. It wasn't some mystical force at play, nor were they particularly perceptive. In their eyes, Genma was a man of unyielding mental fortitude. Yet, even someone like him emerged from this building with a faint pallor on his face each time he entered or left.
Whatever lurked within was clearly something ordinary people couldn't stomach—a "great terror" beyond comprehension. Naturally, anyone with sense steered clear.
But this raised a question. Genma's agricultural experiments had achieved unprecedented success, but what was the next step? Could transplanting these highly active Earth Grudge Fear sprouts into a shinobi grant them access to its forbidden techniques?
Obviously, that was impossible—at least not without gruesome human experimentation.
Under these circumstances, Genma wouldn't dream of using his own body as a test subject, nor would he allow the organization's shinobi to become guinea pigs. Coldly speaking, as expendable resources, the organization's limited numbers wouldn't suffice. They could be exhausted entirely without yielding a single success.
But having come this far, abandoning the experiment altogether wasn't realistic either. After much deliberation, Genma devised a plan that wasn't quite a plan: sell the Earth Grudge Fear technique as a form of "arsenal."
In this era, a shinobi's life was worth little. There were bound to be weaker ninja desperate for such a powerful forbidden technique, making them perfect test subjects.
Of course, Genma prided himself on fairness in his dealings. When selling, he would clearly outline both the risks and the rewards. In fact, he suspected that even if he exaggerated the dangers, many would still flock to the technique like moths to a flame. After all, a shinobi's life was cheap.
The Fuma Clan was already selling ninja tools, so why not bundle this forbidden technique with their wares?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Genma shared it with Fuma Goro, nearly causing the man's jaw to hit the floor.
Thanks to their established reputation, the Fuma Clan's ninja tool business had been picking up. Buyers weren't exactly clamoring, but there were steady customers drawn by their name. If they were interested in ninja tools, wouldn't they be even more intrigued by a weapon far superior?
"Leader, I don't quite understand," Fuma Goro said, his voice tinged with doubt. "If we possess such a powerful forbidden technique, why sell it? Shouldn't strengthening our own forces be the priority?"
Goro's skepticism was understandable. A technique this potent could bring immense resources to the organization, but wasn't selling it akin to arming their enemies? Stockpiling grain while the neighbor hoards weapons—or worse, trading weapons for their grain—made no sense.
Wisely, Goro refrained from asking how Genma had acquired the "living" Earth Grudge Fear. Still, he firmly opposed selling the technique.
"I can't guarantee the success rate of transplanting the Earth Grudge Fear technique," Genma replied, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If we recklessly used it within the organization, it would undoubtedly lead to massive casualties."
Goro's eyes lit up as realization dawned. "You want to use other shinobi as test subjects?" he said, quickly piecing it together. "Conduct experiments, gather data, and find a way to make the technique safe… That's actually a solid plan."
In this era, no one could afford to be a saint. With just a brief explanation, Goro's stance flipped entirely. Using others' lives to perfect their technique and maximize gains—what could be better?
"I do have one concern," Goro added. "If certain factions realize we can mass-produce powerful shinobi, won't that make them wary—or worse, covetous?"
It was a valid point. Flaunting such a capability could attract all sorts of trouble, from envious rivals to opportunistic bandits.
"That's why we need to choose our buyers carefully," Genma said. "They can't be too strong or too weak. And taking risks is part of doing business. Fortunately, we now have enough strength to handle some pressure."
With Uchiha Nanami by his side, Genma's forces were just strong enough to hold their own. They weren't invincible, but they could manage moderate risks. Secret transactions wouldn't do—nobody would trust a forbidden technique from an unknown source. But if it came from the somewhat reputable Fuma Clan, with a fixed base and a recognizable name, that was another story.
If the buyer was a clan like the Tsugawa, with a manageable level of power, the risks would be controllable. As for the possibility of the technique's secrets spreading further from such a clan, that was a problem for another day. Genma hoped that by the time word circulated among mid-tier clans, he'd have perfected a safe transplantation method.
Hearing this, Goro felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. Handle pressure? What does that even mean?
But before he could voice his doubts or display his usual indecision, Genma finalized the plan.
While buyers of ninja tools didn't openly reveal their identities or origins, discerning their standing in the shinobi world wasn't difficult. Goro had a knack for it. He could spot the ones who weren't overly generous but weren't stingy either—those who haggled but still closed deals, whose transactions were moderate in scale, and who looked pained when handing over payment. Those were almost certainly from mid-tier clans.
A few days later, Goro found a suitable candidate.
As the shinobi completed his ninja tool purchase and turned to leave, Goro stopped him with a raised hand.
"Is there something else?" the shinobi asked, his expression instantly wary, as if bracing for a trap.
Goro flashed a disarming smile. "Friend, I'm the head of the Fuma Clan. No need to be nervous. I just wanted to ask—besides standard ninja tools, are you interested in something… more powerful?"
At the mention of Goro's status, the shinobi's guard lowered slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"What kind of weapon?"
"Come with me," Goro said. "This isn't the place to talk."
He gestured toward the "VIP room" at the back—a space, as the name implied, reserved for fleecing big spenders.
The shinobi hesitated, still wary. Goro leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "A forbidden technique, passed down through a great clan for centuries. Interested?"
The words were like a devil's whisper. Though the shinobi remained cautious and hesitant, something compelled him to move, his feet following Goro almost against his will.
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