Within the Land of Fire's borders, Konoha shinobi forehead protectors provided the greatest safety guarantee. Thus the merchant convoy's travel speed faced no obstacles. Not until leaving the Land of Fire and setting foot on the Land of Tea's territory did the convoy workers begin raising their spirits.
Shuji began dispatching shadow clones to scout road conditions ahead of the convoy. Some small-scale bandits hidden in forest paths along minor roads were preemptively eliminated by his shadow clones before making any moves.
Shuji's shadow clones occasionally brought back combat spoils, making Hiroyama Makoto's smile increasingly sincere. However, as the convoy gradually approached that old forest called Wild Tea Slope, the relaxed atmosphere seemed swallowed by the forest's gloom.
"Wild Tea Slope lies ahead, Captain Shuji," Hiroyama Makoto urged his horse closer, voice carrying poorly concealed nervousness. "That Tea Mountain Gang..."
"The hilltop camp is empty," Shuji's voice remained flat, gaze cast toward the distant lush hillside. Information brought back by shadow clones indicated a large bandit stronghold accommodating hundreds had been abandoned without combat traces. It resembled more an organized withdrawal.
Hiroyama Makoto's face paled further. "Empty? Then... where did those people go?"
"Unknown." Shuji's answer proved crisp, his gaze sweeping the increasingly dense forest belts flanking the official road, vigilance drawn taut as a bowstring. Hundreds of vanished fierce bandits with unknown whereabouts hung like dark clouds overhead. His perception spread quietly like an invisible spider web.
This pressure persisted until the convoy safely bypassed Wild Tea Slope and stepped onto the final smooth path toward Degarashi Port. Hiroyama Makoto's suspended heart fell halfway back. He exhaled deeply. "Good to pass through! Thank you, Captain Shuji!" He believed the threat resolved.
Shuji silently observed the gradually revealing harbor city ahead—Degarashi Port. Gray-white walls backed mountains and faced the sea. The harbor bristled with masts. However, the closer to those gates symbolizing safety and trade, the sharper that sense of wrongness triggered by Wild Tea Slope's empty camp became.
The convoy approached the tall gates with the crowd. A checkpoint stood at the entrance. Several guards wearing Tea Country local garrison leather armor and wielding long halberds stood there. Their posture carried surface-level laziness, but eyes scanning cargo proved sharp as eagles, revealing scrutiny and greed.
Hiroyama Makoto's convoy's turn arrived. The lead guard captain possessed a lean build with a shallow scar across his face. He casually scanned the oil cloth-covered carts and transit documents, mouth corners pulling into a mirthless arc.
"Cloth merchant? Hiroyama Makoto?" The guard captain's tone drawled. "According to this city's new regulations, goods entering the city must pay a 'special transit tax' valued at forty percent."
"Wh... what?!" Blood color instantly drained from Hiroyama Makoto's face, voice shrill. "Forty percent?! No such rule ever existed! Sir, are you mistaken?!"
The outcry served as a signal. From shadows by the gate entrance, dozens of armed men in similar attire surged forth, swiftly encircling the six carts along with Hiroyama Makoto and others. The atmosphere plummeted. Silent threats permeated the air.
Anko stood beside Shuji, muscles tensing beneath her dark purple windbreaker. Fury rose in her eyes—this was clearly robbery! But she forcibly restrained herself from moving.
Itachi stood at the convoy's rear, coldly scanning encirclers' positions and movement details—callus positions from gripping weapons, faint tattoos beneath leather armor, residual ferocity in gazes... These details differed subtly from true guards.
Hiroyama Makoto broke into cold sweat. Merchant instinct overwhelmed everything. He squeezed out an ingratiating smile, bowing repeatedly. "S... Sir, please calm yourself! This one spoke out of turn! This forty percent... I've exhausted my family fortune and truly cannot produce it! Could you accommodate? Or allow me to enter the city, sell goods, then pay later?" He held no hope that shinobi would oppose Tea Country's official authority.
Or rather, any shinobi village's externally acceptable commissions never included content opposing national administrative organs.
Especially after Konoha's Second Hokage Senju Tobirama established the ANBU system, such unseemly-looking missions no longer appeared on the village's public commission boards.
Basically, village leadership personally negotiated with relevant parties before directly issuing missions to suitable squads within the village, or ANBU handled them directly.
Missions shinobi could accept at mission centers were all proper-looking assignments like escort and subjugation duties.
"Accommodate?" The guard captain sneered, greedily sweeping over the carts. "No money? Easy!" He waved his large hand. "Leave two carts' worth of goods as tax! Move out!"
"Yes!" Surrounding guards responded excitedly like hungry wolves pouncing on the oil cloth!
"Stop."
The voice was not loud, yet carried a coldly penetrating quality that instantly froze the sweltering air before the gate tunnel.
Shuji's figure had already appeared ghost-like, steadily blocking those two targeted carts. He assumed no combat posture. His hands even hung at his sides. He merely stood there calmly, like a reef embedded in the ground. Sunlight slanted from behind him, stretching his shadow long, pressing heavily upon the charging guards.
The two men rushing forward were startled by this silent obstruction, their fierce momentum involuntarily faltering.
Scarface Captain's triangular eyes narrowed dangerously. He looked Shuji up and down, especially the clear Konoha symbol on his forehead protector. The flesh on his face twitched. Forcibly suppressing his offended fury, he deliberately raised his voice. "Konoha shinobi? Look clearly! I'm this city's guard captain! Collecting taxes according to regulations proves perfectly justified! What? Are you Konoha shinobi interfering in the Land of Tea's internal affairs, attacking officials executing public duties?!"
"We accepted a mission," Shuji's tone remained steady, yet his gaze pierced sharp as ice picks straight into Scarface Captain's eyes. "The contract is escorting this merchant convoy and its cargo, safely arriving at the destination in Degarashi Port."
"Or rather, are you now planning to openly rob property belonging to Konoha's mission client?"
The instant the final word fell, an invisible, seemingly corpse-mountain-blood-sea-derived chilling presence suddenly emanated with Shuji as center! The air seemed drained. Temperature plummeted. Several guards by the carts instantly paled as though invisible pressure gripped their throats, stumbling back several steps, weapons nearly slipping from their grips.
Scarface Captain's arrogance instantly retreated, leaving only pale doubt and uncertainty. His Adam's apple rolled with difficulty. Cold air shot up his spine. This seemingly calm young shinobi before him felt a hundred times more dangerous than the forest's most ferocious bears! He harbored no doubt that should he order another attack, the opponent would unhesitatingly unleash a storm of blood.
Anko silently shifted position, precisely blocking another potential flanking angle. Itachi stood behind the convoy, watching several guards positioned further back.
Oppressive deathly silence shrouded the gate tunnel. Only pack horses' uneasy snorts and Hiroyama Makoto's heavy breathing remained clearly audible. Several onlooking passersby exchanged glances. One quickly departed.
Scarface Captain's eyes flickered violently. Fine cold sweat seeped from his temples. Several seconds felt like centuries. Finally, that bit of false official authority was completely crushed. He forced an extremely strained smile onto his face, voice dry. "Heh... hehe, misunderstanding! All misunderstanding!" He waved frantically. "Stand down! Stand down! Don't disturb the honored guests!"
The encircling men gratefully complied, hastily withdrawing their weapons and stepping back.
Just as Hiroyama Makoto prepared leading people directly inside, Shuji stopped him again.
"Pay them according to previous rules. However much it should be, pay exactly that." Shuji's voice remained flat, withdrawing that suffocating pressure.
Hiroyama Makoto awoke as from a dream, hastily counting out several banknotes from his personal money pouch with trembling hands and respectfully presenting them. The captain snatched them without looking and stuffed them into his chest, face piling on fawning smiles. "Let them pass! Quickly pass!"
Thanking Shuji profusely and nearly kneeling, Hiroyama Makoto wiped sweat while directing workers toward the dock with lingering fear.
Shuji did not immediately leave the gate vicinity. He led Anko and Itachi, calmly turning into a relatively secluded back street alley. The alley was damp, permeated with fishy sea air.
"Captain, just now..." Suppressing guards felt satisfying, but Anko's brows furrowed tightly. Her lowered voice filled with confusion. "Acting this way, will the village consider it inappropriate?" She worried Shuji might face accountability afterward.
Shuji leaned against the wall. Light filtering through the alley entrance cast half-bright, half-dark shadows on his face. He did not directly answer Anko, turning his gaze toward the constantly observing Itachi. "Itachi, what did you see?"
Itachi raised his eyes. "Those guards mostly bore incompletely concealed tattoos. The patterns are common among Tea Mountain area mountain bandits. Rather than proper guards, they more closely resembled bandits."
Anko listened, stunned. Carefully recalling, those details immediately clarified in her mind.
Shuji smiled. "Precisely. Bandits just turned legitimate always get chased and killed by shinobi. Their mentality hasn't adjusted yet."
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild