The caravan leader, after leaving the fur behind, did not rush to leave. Instead, he knelt on the carpet, his eyes fixed hopefully on the boy in front of him. After a long hesitation, he finally spoke:
"Lord of the Sky Country, I wonder if your people lack fur during the winter? I specialize in fur trading. If there's a need, we'd be willing to expand our business to the Sky Country."
They had been running caravans across the desert for years, always hoping to expand their trade. Today, fate seemed to deliver an opportunity right into their hands, so naturally, they had to try.
The boy tilted his head slightly, flicking his short hair before adjusting his sunglasses with one hand. The small gesture drew soft screams from two women nearby, as if his supposed charm nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.
"Our Sky Country does indeed need fur for winter. However, not just anyone can do business with us. Our Muō City has over one hundred thousand residents. For generations, they've worn only cotton clothing through the cold season—never fur. That means the market is enormous."
He rubbed his fingers together meaningfully. "The real question is—can you handle such a business?"
"I understand, I understand. This is just a small token of respect—please, my lord, accept it." The caravan leader caught on quickly. He took a small box and handed it forward.
One of the impostor's followers accepted it, opened the box, and found two gold bars inside. Though not a fortune, their value was considerable.
"Damn it, I want to hit someone. Master, give the word—I can't hold it anymore!"
From the corner, Wumang glared furiously, whispering under his breath. "Our Nanmo Country isn't even cold in winter! Forget fur, hardly anyone even wears cotton coats. This fraud… I'll beat him to death!"
Shigeo raised his eyes and gave Wumang a sharp, icy look. A flicker of cold light passed through them. His low voice cut through the air:
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"Yes!" Wumang had been brimming with rage, but that one glance was enough to smother it. Of all things in the world, nothing terrified him more than his master's anger. He dared not risk it.
After all, over the past year, Shigeo had been merciless in pushing him through training. When his master smiled, Wumang could relax and joke about anything. But when Shigeo's expression hardened, and those deep blue eyes turned sharp, Wumang's legs trembled uncontrollably.
And at that very moment, Shigeo's face carried that exact severity. Naturally, Wumang backed down.
"This little offering isn't enough to cover even the smallest deal in our Sky Country. Forget it—better drop this idea. Besides, Sunagakure has already invited us to negotiate business."
The boy in white on the carpet waved his hand dismissively. His follower immediately understood, snatching the box and tossing it back.
The caravan leader hurriedly retrieved the gold bars and held them in his palms. "Lord, this is everything our caravan has earned in half a year. It's already the most we have. If it's not enough, I can try to gather more—perhaps check if the others carry anything?"
Another follower gestured, and the caravan leader backed away. Not long after, he returned with loose silver and small valuables, placing them all together in the box along with the gold bars. He respectfully offered it again.
Just as the impostor's man reached for it, a sudden chill swept through the cave. A pale hand snatched the box away.
"Brother, if they don't want to trade with you, you shouldn't press them."
Shigeo, holding the box, pulled the middle-aged merchant away from the carpet's edge with a single tug.
The five impostors frowned in frustration. Those two gold bars weren't trivial.
Exchanging glances, the four henchmen rushed forward to block Shigeo's path. "Who are you? This isn't your business!"
They grabbed at the merchant again, dragging him back onto the carpet.
"Uncle, don't be fooled," Shigeo said coolly. "Do you really think someone like me would bother with trade? I was born a shinobi."
His words sparked doubt in the merchant's heart. He looked carefully at the boy in sunglasses.
"I heard Shigeo was blind. Why not have him take off his glasses so we can see?"
Shigeo smirked and stepped closer, his lips curved in amusement.
The four henchmen blocked his path immediately. "Brat, do you have a death wish?"
They were shinobi too, but at best mid-level. All four charged at once. Shigeo's gaze sharpened. He didn't even need to move.
From behind came the familiar voice: "Master, should I beat them?"
"Do it."
This time, with Wumang at his side, there was no need for Shigeo to waste effort on small fry.
He sidestepped their attacks casually, standing off to the side as though observing a performance. Wumang crashed into them, fists flying. In mere moments, all four lay sprawled on the ground.
Thanks to Shigeo's training over the past year, Wumang had reached the level of Tokubetsu Jōnin. These opponents weren't even worth a single jutsu—his bare fists were enough to leave them broken and howling.
As Wumang prepared to finish them off, the impostor in white suddenly dropped to his knees.
"Please, don't kill them! We were wrong—we won't do this again!"
Everyone in the caravan froze in shock. Wasn't Shigeo supposed to be the strongest shinobi in the world? Why was this "lord" groveling before a vagabond?
"What exactly was wrong?"
Shigeo stepped onto the carpet, taking the impostor's seat. His slender fingers plucked grapes from the table, eating with perfect ease.
The two young women watching gasped softly, covering their mouths. They didn't recognize this boy, but his natural presence overwhelmed them.
His long black hair flowed down his back, his thin lips closing around a juicy grape as if biting into a droplet of spring water. The sight alone quenched their thirst.
He was more handsome than any portrait of "Shigeo" they had ever seen.
"I—I…"
The impostor glanced nervously at the caravan members. Fear tangled his tongue, and he hesitated for a long while.
Meanwhile, Wumang kept pounding the four henchmen, their cries echoing around the cave.
Shigeo remained seated, unhurried, popping grapes into his mouth as though none of this concerned him.
"I shouldn't have pretended to be Shigeo!"
Hearing this, Shigeo paused mid-motion, turning his gaze toward the impostor with a faint smile.
"How much money did you scam in total?"
The caravan members gasped. At last, they believed the long-haired boy.
"N-not much. Just… just this." The youth stammered, pulling a scroll from his robe.
(End of Chapter)
[50 Power Stones = 1 Extra Chapter]
[10 Reviews = 5 Extra Chapter]
[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]
[[email protected]/Zukooo]
[Thanks for your support!]