Chapter 70: Oiran

Obito and Pain moved through the hidden passage with ease, as though they were strolling through their own backyard.

When they emerged back above ground, they had arrived at the heart of Kirigakure. Not far ahead stood the Mizukage's office building. Directly in front of them was a quaint, elegant house.

"Where is this?" Pain asked.

"The Elder Master's residence," Obito replied casually.

Ever since Obito cast genjutsu over Yagura, many of the Mizukage's decrees had been subtly influenced by this so-called Elder Master.

If it had been anyone else, Obito would have already eliminated them. But the Elder had deep roots in Kirigakure, with a tangled web of interests and close ties to the daimyo's administration. Killing him would create too much political backlash. So instead, Obito had spent years quietly eroding the Elder's authority.

"I considered his past contributions and thought I'd let him live out his days naturally," Obito added, glancing at Pain's skeptical expression. "Don't look at me like that—I'm actually quite kind to the elderly."

Obito stepped to the courtyard door and gently pushed it open.

"Unfortunately, some people tried to use Master Yuan as a symbol. They acted in his name to push agendas that upset too many others. And he chose to support them."

The door creaked open.

Obito's eyes swept over the courtyard with icy precision. Inside stood four Kirigakure shinobi assigned to guard the Elder.

"And so," Obito murmured, "we're here to cut off the last 'retreat' these people still rely on."

"Stop right there!"

Two massive blades blocked the path.

Hozuki Mangetsu narrowed his eyes at the black cloaks adorned with red clouds. "Akatsuki? What are you doing here?"

"Oh?" Obito chuckled.

"There are only two reasons someone asks a question they already know the answer to. One is to project confidence—psychological warfare. The other is fear… hoping the answer will be different."

Obito's Sharingan spun slowly as he looked directly at Mangetsu.

"So, Kidan-kun... which one are you?"

Mangetsu's grip on his twin swords tightened. He let out a sharp breath, swung his blade, and shouted:

"Enemy attack!"

---

Meanwhile, in a lavish chamber elsewhere in the city...

A courtesan—a woman in her early twenties with refined features and a graceful figure—sat casually in front of Logan and Cardo.

She lazily draped a kimono over her shoulders, tying her sash with little care. From a small pouch, she pulled out a lady's cigarette, lit it with a soft click, and exhaled an elegant plume of smoke.

Noticing both men watching her, she blinked once, then asked dryly, "Gentlemen, do you still require my services? Or are you going to kill me first and talk business afterward?"

Logan followed her gaze to the corpses of Cardo's henchmen littering the room. She must've assumed she'd be silenced next—hence the calm acceptance in her posture, her cigarette, her indifferent tone.

In stark contrast, Cardo was a mess.

The once-proud merchant lay sprawled on the floor, face pale with terror, gasping like a wild boar stuck in the mud.

Falling to his knees, Cardo groveled shamelessly.

"Please—don't kill me! I have money—more than you could ever dream of! I can pay you whatever you want! Just spare my life! I can make you rich beyond imagination!"

He was truly terrified.

He knew exactly who Logan was.

The lunatic who dared to kill both Orochimaru and Danzo.

Cardo was wealthy, but in the hierarchy of influence, he couldn't compare to someone like Danzo. If such a man could be slain, what chance did a mere merchant have?

He had spent a lifetime building his business empire. Losing it to a madman like Logan would be a tragedy.

"Money," Logan mused, crouching beside Cardo and patting his shoulder. "Money's nice. But yours is too dirty. I'll need to clean it before I can touch it."

"Clean it... how?"

Logan leaned in close, whispering into Cardo's ear.

"With your blood."

A white snake burst from Logan's sleeve, punching clean through Cardo's chest.

Blood gushed out. Cardo clutched the wound in shock, eyes swimming with hatred and disbelief.

"The daimyo... the Daimyo of the Land of Water won't forgive you… Logan, you'll die eventually..."

The snake hissed and flicked its tongue. Standing on one hip, it leaned back, lifted its chin dramatically, and backhanded Cardo hard across the face, sending two golden teeth flying.

"You talk too much," the snake spat. "Why do you think we came here to find you?"

Sizzle—click.

Two discs emerged from Cardo's corpse.

One held his memories. The other, since Cardo had no jutsu or Stand abilities, was a "Mind" disc, containing all his business knowledge from the past 40 years.

Logan glanced at the business disc, unimpressed. He tossed it aside and kept only the memory disc.

Cardo was a tycoon from the Land of Waves. With his wealth, he wouldn't bother traveling all the way to Kirigakure just to bet on graduation duels. There had to be a bigger reason.

And there was.

Flipping through Cardo's memories, Logan quickly found the answer:

> "...Reached an agreement with the Daimyo of the Land of Water to bring in 'Product D'... Mix it with salt... distribute it nationwide... Citizens will work harder... shorter lifespans mean fewer elderly... and the addiction guarantees ongoing consumption... Kirigakure's ninjas will act as bodyguards for the caravans…"

Logan frowned as he put the disc away.

So that was it.

Two monsters—Cardo and the daimyo—collaborating to turn the entire nation into livestock. Treating the people like commodities. Short-lived, disposable, endlessly exploitable.

He stood up. It wasn't yet time to confront the daimyo, but tomorrow...

Tomorrow, they would have a long-overdue conversation.

From Cardo's corpse, Logan extracted a hefty wad of cash. After a pause, he peeled off a few notes and laid them on the table beside the courtesan.

The woman took a long drag on her cigarette, then pressed a slender finger onto the cash. Her red-painted nails contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, and as she leaned forward, her kimono slipped off one shoulder, revealing a generous curve of white.

"Sir, are you trying to buy my silence?" she asked.

"No. You can tell whoever you want," Logan said simply. "I don't care if the whole world knows."

"Then... what's the money for?"

Logan pointed at her and replied:

"You're an oiran. I'm a man. I saw your body. I should pay you for that—part of the job, right?"

The courtesan blinked, surprised.

She stared at Logan, reading his honest expression. There was no lust, no hidden intent—just calm sincerity.

He gave her a polite nod and turned to leave.

It wasn't until his back had disappeared down the hallway that she stirred. Grabbing her skirt, she rushed to the window, leaned out, and called after him with hopeful boldness:

"My lord! Did you like what you saw?"

Logan paused, turned back, and smiled.

He nodded once.

Her eyes lit up with delight.

"My name is Iwamine Genmako! You're welcome anytime, my lord!"

Logan smiled faintly, gave a final wave, and turned the corner.

---

Then, his smile vanished.

A signal from above—his surveillance drone hovering high over the city—picked up rapid movement.

Numerous chakra signatures were converging.

Logan turned toward the city center.

"As expected," he muttered. "No plan survives first contact with reality."

From the sky, his sword—a broken blade tied beneath the aircraft—detached and fell.

Logan raised a hand and caught it mid-air. He spun the blade once, slung it across his back, and sprinted toward the gathering chaos.

Øóffer going on for diamond tier

pàtreøn (Gk31)