Chapter 450: Let's Have a Proper Talk

Looking at the scene before him—everyone trembling beneath his oppressive presence like the most docile of lambs, not even daring to breathe, much less resist or question him—

The killing intent in Indra’s eyes finally faded, replaced by a strange, deeply satisfied gleam.

This is how things were always supposed to be.

He suddenly felt as though a knot that had weighed on his heart for years was quietly unraveling.

So this was the sense of control that power brought—the kind that required neither explanation nor compromise.

Making everyone submit through fear was far more efficient, and far more satisfying, than wasting endless words seeking that illusory thing called “understanding” or “acceptance.”

And at this moment, he finally understood completely, from the depths of his soul—

What a true dictator really was.

It was not the demonized label his father had spoken of. Rather, it was… the ultimate embodiment of power, will, and absolute authority.

The supreme authority to make the entire world kneel at his feet!

“Enough.”

A deep and authoritative voice, carrying the resonance of the Pure Land and the weight of millennia, came from the deepest reaches of the Ninshū. Like a stabilizing pillar, it rang clearly in the hearts of every disciple still reeling from terror.

It was the Sage of Six Paths!

The moment that voice sounded, every Ninshū disciple in the square, tense to the breaking point, unconsciously let out a long breath. Like drowning men finally grasping a piece of driftwood, they had temporarily escaped the suffocating grip of fear.

The bone-chilling killing intent that had blanketed the square also seemed to recede somewhat beneath the weight of that voice.

Indra narrowed his eyes. The satisfaction and coldness within them did not fade; instead, his gaze became even sharper.

Slowly, he raised his head. His eyes were like tangible arrows piercing through the intervening halls as he gazed toward the source of the voice, as though he and his father—seated in the Pure Land and watching over the Ninshū—had exchanged a silent yet fierce confrontation across the distance.

“Indra, come and see me.”

The Sage of Six Paths spoke again, his voice steadier than before and even less open to refusal, carrying the natural authority of one who had stood at the pinnacle for ages.

“You’ve been growing more and more out of line lately.”

“We… should have a proper talk.”

“Gladly.”

A cold smile curled across Indra’s lips. There was not the slightest warmth in it—only open provocation.

“As it happens, I also have quite a few things… that have been weighing on my mind for a very long time, which I’d like to discuss properly and thoroughly with you, Father.”

He deliberately emphasized the words “Father” and “discuss,” making the distance between them—and the confrontation lurking beneath his words—impossible to miss.

With that, he no longer spared the people in the square a glance, nor did he pay any attention to the corpse on the ground. He simply strode toward the innermost halls of the Ninshū—the place that represented its highest authority and deepest secrets.

His steps were steady, his back straight, and his figure carried an air of solitary determination.

Asura’s expression shifted constantly. He looked at his brother’s retreating back, utterly devoid of hesitation, then at the corpse of his fellow disciple lying on the ground. Pain, confusion, and anger intertwined in his eyes.

In the end, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists before quickly following after him.

No matter what awaited them, he could not allow his brother to face their father alone. Nor could he allow this storm between father and sons, and between brothers, to descend into an irreparable abyss without anyone there to witness or intervene.

Only after the two central figures had left did the remaining disciples finally release their tightly wound nerves. Many had their legs give out beneath them and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.

They looked at one another, the relief of having survived the ordeal—and their bone-deep fear of Indra—lingering in their eyes for a long time.

In an extremely secluded corner of the square, shrouded in shadow—

Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned against the cold wall, his face as pale as paper and his forehead drenched in sweat. Even his voice trembled uncontrollably.

“This time… we were wrong. Terribly wrong.”

Beside him, Danzō swallowed with difficulty, his fingertips still trembling and lingering terror visible in his eyes.

“Y-Yes… it was far too dangerous. We never should have… never should have tried to test Indra. Who could have imagined that he’d become such a… completely unrestrained monster? And of all days, he had to come back today! The idiot we stationed at the gate was only supposed to provoke him a little and make him lose his composure. Instead, he practically threw himself onto the blade—and exposed all of us!”

Hiruzen’s face was filled with lingering fear as he spoke rapidly.

“We only wanted to anger him and make him do something excessive, so the Sage of Six Paths would have a reason to punish him and weaken his influence within the Ninshū… But who could have imagined it?! He doesn’t care about rules or punishment at all! Just because of one disrespectful remark, he… he killed him immediately! Without the slightest hesitation!”

He suddenly grabbed Danzō’s arm, his fingernails nearly digging into the other’s flesh.

“Quick! Stop everything immediately! Every little move we’re making against Indra—suspend it all!”

“No. End it completely!”

“He’s a complete madman now! A madman with terrifying power!”

“Someone like him isn’t someone we can afford to provoke—and we absolutely cannot provoke him again!”

“I understand! I understand!” Danzō nodded repeatedly, his face equally bloodless. “Brother, don’t worry. I’ll deal with it immediately. I’ll cut off every lead that could possibly connect back to us, and we won’t touch this matter again. Right now… all we can do is hide and wait!”

Only then did Hiruzen loosen his grip slightly. As though all his strength had been drained away, he slowly slid down the wall and muttered in a low voice, his tone filled with the lingering dread of narrowly escaping disaster and profound helplessness.

“That’s good… that’s good… All we need to do now is wait quietly and stay as far away as possible. I’m terrified… terrified that if that madman finds even the slightest clue and takes his anger out on us… He doesn’t hesitate when he kills.”

He paused and raised a trembling hand, looking at his clenched yet powerless fist.

For the first time, doubt and disillusionment appeared in his eyes toward the “wisdom” and methods he had always believed in. His voice was bitter and defeated.

“So… in the face of absolute power and ruthless resolve like Indra’s, all our schemes, our attempts to turn people against each other, our plans to kill with borrowed blades… they’re nothing but worthless garbage!”

The shadows in the corner seemed to grow even darker.

These two young schemers, once ambitious and eager to stir the waters of power within the Ninshū, had been crushed beneath absolute violence. For the first time, they tasted fear born from the depths of their souls—and the despair of watching the rules of the game they had relied upon be torn apart completely.

Beneath the Heavenly Curtain, the ancient Ninshū was being pushed into an unprecedented state of turmoil and danger. With Indra’s return, the hidden currents and open struggles alike had reached new and perilous heights.