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Horyu seized the opportunity. Without a word, he produced a set of scrolls from his cloak and handed them over. "Hold onto these," he instructed, his tone firm yet devoid of any warmth. "These are marks of Zenkage. Use them once a week for regular check-ins or in emergencies to alert me. If you truly wish to repay me, answer my inquiries when I call upon you."

The merchants, savvy as they were, quickly understood the underlying offer. They nodded, agreeing to the terms laid out by this mysterious benefactor. Horyu, using the Insight Sigil, discerned the intentions of each merchant. Noting that two harbored ulterior motives. Without hesitation, he discreetly deactivated the seals he had given to the two whose thoughts harbored greed over gratitude. Horyu was building a network, not a charity, and his resources were reserved for those truly aligned with his cause.

As the merchants hurriedly packed their belongings, Horyu turned his attention to the bandits sprawled on the ground. His dislike for their kind was a flame that needed no fanning, yet something held his hand from delivering the final judgment.

Among the defeated, a young bandit, no more than a teenager, caught Horyu's eye. Tears streaked the dirt on his face as he pleaded for mercy, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. "Please spare me, please. I did it because my family is starving," he sobbed, his words a stark reminder of the desperation that drove many to the life of crime.

Horyu, though hardened by the realities of the shinobi world, wasn't heartless. His disdain for bandits was unwavering, but he understood the difference between those who chose violence for pleasure and those pushed to the brink by circumstance. The youth before him belonged to the latter category, his involvement more a testament to the world's failures than to his own.

In the early light of dawn, the air was tense as Horyu faced the defeated bandits, their bodies scattered on the ground, showing the marks of his swift intervention. The youngest among them, a boy not yet fully grown into manhood, was the only one who dared to voice his plea for mercy, his words punctuated by sobs of desperation.

Horyu's gaze was steely as he regarded the young bandit. The edge of his kunai caught the first rays of the sun, casting long, ominous shadows on the dirt. The fear was palpable, a thick blanket that smothered the boy's cries.

"To choose to hurt others because you're in a tight spot doesn't make it right," Horyu said, his voice cold, devoid of empathy for the path the boy had chosen. His boot connected with the bandit's midsection, a sharp kick that drew a choked gasp from the boy, a mixture of bile and fear spilling from his lips.

He leveled the blade at the bandit, its surface gleaming menacingly in the growing light. The sight of the weapon, a promise of death, caused a visible shudder to run through the group. "However, today's your lucky day. I'm not in the business of cutting down desperate fools without giving them a chance to redeem themselves. You work for me now. Perform well, and you'll find my payment more than fair. What do you say?"

The bandits exchanged fearful glances, their eyes darting between Horyu and the kunai that promised a swift end should they refuse his offer. The youngest, still reeling from the kick, nodded vigorously, the others quickly following suit, their eagerness to avoid death overpowering any remnants of pride.

"Good choice," Horyu stated, his smirk barely visible in the dim light. He sheathed his kunai, a clear signal that, for now, their lives were spared. "First order of business, you're going to help me with something. There's a village not far from here that could use some protection. You're going to be that protection."

The notion of protecting a village, of being on the other side of the law they'd so casually disregarded, seemed to baffle the bandits. Yet, none dared to voice their confusion, the memory of their recent defeat too fresh in their minds.

"The people there are simple farmers, trying to make an honest living. You're going to protect them while they work and sell their produce. In return, they'll pay you with food."

A mix of confusion and relief flickered across the bandits' faces. From terrorizing villagers to protecting them—a turn of events they hadn't anticipated. Yet, the alternative, as made clear by Horyu's earlier demonstration, was far less appealing.

"And," Horyu continued, his gaze piercing each of them, "your main job is to gather information for me. Anything unusual, any stranger passing by with too many questions, you report back. Understood?"

The bandits nodded, the reality of their new roles slowly sinking in. The prospect of redemption, or at least survival, provided a glimmer of hope in their otherwise bleak existence.

"Got it," the youngest murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the others murmuring their assent.

Horyu surveyed the group, a plan forming in his mind. "Good. Remember, failure isn't an option. You mess this up, and you'll answer to me. And you don't want that."

With a final nod, Horyu turned, blending into the shadows as he left the bandits to their fate. His departure was silent, a testament to his recent training, leaving the bandits to contemplate their new reality.

Horyu stepped back into the shadows, a mere silhouette against the dimming light, leaving behind the bandits he had just turned into unwilling recruits. With a mixture of anticipation and a stern resolve, he applied a modified version of the Cursed Seal to each of them. This seal, a product of his careful study, was far from Orochimaru's original but carried a sinister twist of its own. It was his insurance policy, a means to ensure their loyalty—or at least compliance. He made it clear: betray him, and the consequences would be dire. "Remember, I'm always watching," he warned, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken threat.

The bandits, now marked, understood the gravity of their situation. The youngest, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and newfound determination, nodded vigorously. "We won't let you down," he promised, a statement echoed by the murmurs of agreement from his companions. Horyu, however, didn't rely on their word alone; the seal would be his eyes and ears, a constant reminder of the oath they had been forced to take.

With the early morning's work done, Horyu made his way south, keeping the Distress Map active. Having dealt with two bandit groups already, he doubted more would cross his path soon. He wasn't seeking them out; if fate intervened and placed him in a position to help, he would, but not out of any misplaced sense of heroism. He was no savior.

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