The next morning, Gen stretched lazily beneath the warm covers, then flipped out of bed with a light somersault.
After dressing and washing up, he performed a quick sequence of seals.
Poof!
White smoke burst out as he tested a transformation technique, checking the result with a satisfied nod. Then he stepped out, heading for the hotel's restaurant.
He wasn't one to treat himself poorly while traveling, and this time was no exception.
The inn he had chosen was one of Shirai Castle's most luxurious, its usual guests being wealthy merchants, nobles, officials, and seasoned warriors of means.
After collecting a lavish breakfast, Gen took a seat by the window, sipping tea as he listened in on the chatter around him.
"Have you heard the news?" one man whispered, leaning close to his companion.
"What news?"
"My servant came running this morning—he said the Viper Gang's headquarters was completely wiped out overnight."
A sharp intake of breath. "Impossible… the Viper Gang? They're one of the strongest groups in Shirai Castle! And they've always had protection from powerful figures in the city."
The first man snorted. "Protection didn't save them. And here's the terrifying part... the hundreds of dead left behind had no wounds. None. Their faces were frozen in sheer terror, as if they'd died of fright."
The second man paled. "That… that's absurd."
"Absurd or not, that's what people are saying. Residents near their manor swore they heard blood-curdling screams in the middle of the night. Screams of men who'd seen something beyond comprehension."
"Then who could've done it?"
A nervous glance around, then a hushed reply: "Not human. Ghosts… demons."
The other man shivered, nearly dropping his chopsticks. "You really think so?"
"What else explains it? Even a skilled shinobi might slaughter them, yes, but without a single wound? Without a battle breaking out? Tell me, who but a demon could kill like that?"
"…You have a point. Spirits, then. Gods or demons."
"Exactly. Which is why I'm not staying here another night. As soon as I finish breakfast, I'm leaving this cursed place."
"Then I'll come with you!"
Their voices dropped, and the clatter of bowls replaced their conversation.
Gen sipped his tea calmly.
The rumors were spreading exactly as expected. Within hours, the fall of the Viper Gang was the only subject on anyone's lips.
Most common folk rejoiced, one of the city's worst scourges had vanished overnight. With no gang to terrorize them, Shirai Castle might even know peace for a while.
The other gangs, however, smelled blood. With the Vipers gone, their wealth, businesses, and rackets were ripe for the taking. Hyenas circling a fresh carcass.
As for the authorities, the City Lord's Mansion quickly determined the massacre was man-made. The treasury and prison showed clear signs of tampering.
But beyond that? Nothing. The methods used had left no trace they could follow.
What no one suspected was that the entire downfall of the Vipers had started from just three petty underlings.
With pressure mounting, the City Lord formally requested Konoha's aid. Hundreds dead overnight, bodies twisted in terror, unexplained deaths like that made too many powerful men uneasy.
The Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, treated the matter seriously.
He dispatched an elite investigative team drawn from the Hyūga, Nara, Yamanaka, Aburame, and Inuzuka clans. They scoured the Viper compound, examined the bodies, searched memories for lingering fragments—yet the only clue they uncovered was the image of blood-red feathers drifting through a victim's final recollection.
It resembled Konoha's Temple of Nirvana technique, but not exactly. With so many secret arts in the world, they couldn't identify the source.
By then, Gen was already gone. He had anticipated Konoha would send a team, and he'd prepared accordingly—altering his appearance, scent, even the faintest traces chakra might leave. No trail to follow.
…
This trip wasn't one he planned to cut short. Gen intended to make the most of it, harvesting both souls and lifespans.
Ordinary people and shinobi didn't differ much in lifespan, but their souls were another matter entirely.
A ninja's soul, tempered by chakra since childhood, carried a strength and density far beyond that of common folk.
The longer the chakra's nourishment, the greater the difference. And when chakra fused with the soul itself, it became something rarer still—a quality that could nourish Gen's own spirit in subtle, invaluable ways.
That was why he set his sights on wandering shinobi. Stray blades with no village to shield them, strong enough to provide sustenance but without allies to come searching afterward.
As for ordinary people? Their souls were still sustenance, but he had no need to draw more attention to himself after the Viper Gang's destruction.
Too many unexplained civilian deaths would only raise alarms. Better to keep such harvests scarce and discreet.
He considered future strategies as well. With the Spirit Transformation Technique, he could one day possess wandering shinobi, seize their bodies, consume them from within, then dissolve back into the world unnoticed. A cleaner, quieter method.
Civilian bodies were also possible targets, but too frail, too inefficient.
Ninja prey was simply better.
Of course, he knew the truth; the shinobi world would never lack for souls to harvest. Wars, bandits, missing-nin, traffickers, murderers—human lives were snuffed out daily.
Old age was a rarity. Conflict was the natural state.
Trying to cleanse the chaos of this world alone was impossible, even with the abilities granted by the Soul-Soul Fruit. The roots of darkness ran too deep.
Still, his way was harsher, more absolute than any would-be reformer's; he cut rot from the root.
Where then would his hunt begin?
He smiled faintly to himself, eyes glinting as he left the inn.
The answer was simple.
The black market.