pjbooks Chapter 424 War has no poetry, only scorched earth and weeping.
Chapter 424 War has no poetry, only scorched earth and weeping.
Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan moved at high speed through the ruins of the village, which had been ravaged by fire, like three streaks of light blending into the shadows.
They didn't exchange a single word.
That tacit understanding transcends language, permeating every breath, every exchange of glances, and every step.
Xiao Nan's delicate hand was slightly outstretched, as light as if she were holding a handful of moonlight.
Countless pure white paper butterflies silently emerged from her wide sleeves. They made no sound of flapping their wings, like a group of ghosts deprived of their voices, silently and resolutely surging into every corner of the ruins and every dark crevice.
Each butterfly is her extended eyes and ears, bringing back pieces of a lifeless puzzle.
Nagato gently closed her eyes.
His immense perception, belonging to the Vortex clan, was like an invisible spider web, centered on him, covering an area of several hundred meters in front of him in a fine and gentle manner.
In his perceived world, everything was eerily silent.
Those once vibrant breaths of life are now like strings of a musical instrument suddenly severed by a sharp blade, losing all resonance and leaving only a cold, chilling silence.
The wind howled, like countless souls whispering among the broken walls and ruins.
Besides that, all that could be heard were the cold, broken black and white images transmitted back by Xiao Nan's paper butterflies.
suddenly.
Nagato's body suddenly froze, as if he had been tripped by something invisible.
"What's wrong?"
Yahiko's voice instantly dropped to the lowest level, and his body tensed up reflexively, like a fully drawn bow.
"There……"
Nagato slowly opened her eyes, and a ripple appeared in those eyes that were always as calm as an ancient well.
He pointed to a shrine in the distance that had been almost completely razed to the ground.
"There's still the scent of living people."
"Very faint."
"Like... a candle flame that's about to go out."
The three exchanged a glance.
The next second, they changed direction simultaneously, transforming into three blurry phantoms, and sped towards that faint flame of life.
The shrine's torii gate had long since broken, and the huge stone pillars inscribed with ancient prayers lay scattered on the ground, every inch of the stone blackened by soot, as if flowing with solidified tears.
They found the source of the candlelight under a broken, crumbling beam.
She is a little girl.
He looked only five or six years old, so thin that he seemed like he would fall over if the wind blew him down.
Her small body was covered in mud and dried blood, and under her tattered clothes, one could see bluish-purple abrasions.
She huddled in the narrow crevice between the stone pillar and the ground, in that forgotten, fear-filled corner.
The girl was tightly clutching a similarly tattered rag doll, one of its eyes missing, revealing the gray cotton stuffing inside.
Her body was trembling uncontrollably from extreme fear and cold, like the last withered leaf in the autumn wind.
Xiao Nan's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.
pain.
She immediately stepped forward, her movements as gentle as if afraid of disturbing a dream.
Xiao Nan crouched down, stretched out her hand, and a soft, green light, like that of new leaves, emanated from her palm. She carefully hovered it above the girl's most serious wounds, letting the warmth reach her first.
The girl's body trembled violently as the stranger approached.
But that pure, warm chakra, devoid of any aggression, eventually caused her extremely tense body to relax slightly.
"Don't be afraid."
Yahiko also squatted down, deliberately slowing his breathing and speaking in a very soft and gentle voice, as if he were comforting a frightened fledgling.
"We are ninjas from Konoha, here to help you."
The girl slowly raised her head.
What kind of eyes were those?
Empty, numb, as if covered by a thick layer of dust, with no trace of the radiance that belongs to a child.
Fear was like a lock, locking away all her emotions.
"Are there any other people in the village?" Yahiko asked patiently, speaking each word slowly and clearly.
The girl just shook her head.
Then she hugged the doll in her arms even tighter.
As Yahiko looked into her empty eyes, his heart sank deeper and deeper.
He paused for a moment, then changed his approach.
Are you hungry? We have water and food.
He took out a water bottle and a small piece of soldier's ration pill carefully wrapped in oil paper from his ninja tool bag.
The word "food" is like a key.
A faint ripple finally appeared in the girl's lifeless pupils.
She looked at what Miyako held in his hand, her chapped lips moved slightly, and a soft swallowing sound came from her throat, but she still didn't dare to reach out.
Yahiko felt another pang in his heart.
When he saw the girl's eyes, he suddenly remembered himself from a long time ago.
"Back in the Land of Rain, I often went hungry like this too."
Yahiko's voice carried a hint of distant reminiscence, as if he were speaking to the girl, or perhaps to his past self: "Back then, finding a piece of dry bread that hadn't gone moldy was the happiest thing in the world."
Perhaps it was the word "hunger" that, like a needle, gently pierced the girl's tense defenses.
Her lips finally began to tremble.
"They're...they're a group of ninjas..."
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, broken and discordant, as if it might be blown away by the wind at any moment.
"They...rushed into the village..."
"They stole...all the food and money..."
As she spoke, her body began to tremble violently again, and large tears finally broke through the dam of numbness, gushing from her empty eye sockets and leaving two wet ravines on her dirty little face.
"Kassan and the others..."
"They...they..."
The little girl could no longer speak, and her words turned into heartbreaking sobs suppressed deep in her throat.
But the unspoken words, the most extreme fear and sorrow contained within them, are clearer and more cruel than any language.
They stole the food.
Kill all the adults who resist.
"Click."
A slight, crisp sound.
It was Yahiko's tightly clenched fist, his knuckles rubbing together from the excessive force, emitting a groan of unbearable strain.
A chilling rage erupted from his chest, like magma bursting from a dam, instantly engulfing his limbs and bones, burning his blood to a boiling point.
He came here with such burning ideals.
They firmly believed that they were there to stop the war and to clearly convey the word "peace" to those fools still fighting on the battlefield.
But reality, in such a naked, ugly, and despicable way, gave him a resounding slap in the face.
This was not at all the kind of game and confrontation between the strong that he had imagined.
This is the purest, most barbaric, and most predatory form of plunder!
A disgusting war!
Nagato silently walked behind Yahiko. He didn't say anything, but simply placed a hand gently on Yahiko's shoulder, which was trembling with anger.
In his deep, night-sky-like pupils, two flames burned with suppressed intensity.
He could clearly feel the violent rage about to erupt from Yahiko's body.
You can also feel the boundless sadness and fear of the little girl curled up in front of you.
Two completely different emotions collided and intertwined fiercely in his perceived world, creating a cacophony... a jarring murmur called war.