Chapter 76: The Bandits’ Last Laugh

The moon shone brightly over the dense forest, its soft light filtering through the leaves and casting eerie shadows on the ground. In a small clearing, a group of rogue ninjas and bandits lounged around, their attitudes as relaxed as if they were hanging out at a local izakaya after a hard day's work. If you didn't know any better, you'd think they were just a bunch of old friends catching up—except these guys had a nasty habit of making a living by robbing and pillaging.

"Heh, you guys don't even know! I'm the fastest kunai thrower in the whole freakin' region!" bragged a scrawny bandit with a crooked grin, twirling a kunai in his fingers like it was some kind of party trick.

A beefy, bearded guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Fast? Hah! Who cares about speed? Precision's where it's at! You see this scar?" He flexed his arm, showing off a jagged line that ran from his wrist to his elbow. "Got this from a fight with a Jonin! Took him out with a single shot—right in the eye! That's real skill, boys."

The rogue ninja leaning against a tree, katana resting on his shoulder, yawned lazily. "You two and your little knife tricks… it's all about stealth, idiots. I could sneak up on a whole squad of ANBU and take 'em out before they even knew what hit them." He made a slicing motion in the air, as if his imaginary ANBU targets were falling left and right.

The others nodded and laughed, each one trying to outdo the other with ridiculous stories. Their laughter echoed through the trees, their egos inflating with every boast.

But the fun and games came to an abrupt halt when a sharp-eyed bandit, perched on a nearby rock, suddenly squinted into the distance. "Oi, shut up for a sec! We've got company!" His voice cut through the chatter like a kunai through butter.

The group instantly quieted down, their attention shifting to where the scout was pointing. A caravan, barely visible in the moonlight, was trundling down the dirt road in the distance.

Finally, some action!

"How many wagons?" asked the bearded bandit, already cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

The scout narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the details. "Looks like… three, maybe four. They're moving pretty slow, too. Probably hauling something heavy."

The rogue ninja with the katana grinned, already imagining the loot they were about to score. "And the shinobi situation? Any ninja lurking around?"

The scout hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, no shinobi. Just a bunch of scruffy merchants and maybe a few laborers. Looks like easy pickings to me."

The rogue ninja chuckled, his grin widening. "Merchants without shinobi protection? Either they're total idiots or just too broke to afford any guards. Either way, this is gonna be a breeze."

Another bandit, a little more cautious than the rest, chimed in. "Maybe we should send a couple more scouts, just to be sure. Last thing we need is to get ambushed by some wannabe hero playing ninja."

The rogue ninja waved his hand dismissively, but then nodded. "Fine, fine. Better safe than sorry. You two, go check it out." He pointed at two bandits who immediately dashed off into the shadows, moving through the trees like a pair of well-trained hunting dogs.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group started getting ready, sharpening their weapons and stretching like they were about to go for a morning jog. If they had known what was coming, they might have just stayed in bed.

A few minutes later, the scouts returned, grinning from ear to ear. "All clear! No ninja, no guards, just a bunch of helpless merchants waiting to get robbed!"

The rogue ninja's grin turned into a full-blown smirk. "Perfect. We hit them hard and fast. Take everything that's worth anything, and leave the rest for the crows."

With that, the group sprang into action, their earlier banter replaced with the cold efficiency of seasoned criminals. They moved swiftly and silently through the trees, their confidence sky-high. After all, they'd done this a hundred times before. No shinobi, no problem.

But as they closed in on the caravan, something strange was happening. The merchants weren't panicking or fleeing at the sight of bandits. In fact, they seemed oddly calm… almost too calm.

The bandits had no idea that the world had changed, that the rules they'd lived by were about to be rewritten in the most explosive way possible. And so, with all the arrogance of seasoned criminals who thought they had it all figured out, they approached the caravan, completely unaware that their days of easy scores were about to come to a very abrupt—and very loud—end.

As the rogue ninja and his band of misfits prepared to strike, the night air seemed to hum with a new kind of energy, one that none of them recognized. It was the end of an era, but for now, they were blissfully ignorant of what awaited them on the other side of this fateful encounter.

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The night was still and quiet as the rogue ninjas and bandits moved into position, blending seamlessly into the shadows that lined the forested road. Their movements were precise and silent, honed by years of experience in ambushing unsuspecting travelers. Each member of the group knew exactly where to go, positioning themselves along the road to create a perfect trap. The plan was simple: strike hard, strike fast, and leave no survivors.

Crouching low behind a cluster of bushes, the rogue ninja with the katana signaled to the others. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he watched the caravan slowly make its way down the dirt road. The moonlight glinted off the metal frames of the wagons, and the creaking of wooden wheels echoed in the stillness. 

"Look at 'em," he whispered to the bandit beside him, a grin spreading across his face. "Completely clueless. This is gonna be easier than taking candy from a baby."

The bandit nodded, barely containing his excitement. "No shinobi, no protection… just a bunch of helpless merchants. We're gonna be swimming in loot tonight."

As the ambushers readied themselves, the scene within the caravan was a stark contrast to the tension lurking in the shadows. The wagons were packed with valuable goods—silks, spices, rare ores, and other treasures that would make any shinobi worth their salt drool. Normally, a caravan carrying such wealth would be surrounded by a small army of elite ninja, ensuring its safe passage through the treacherous lands. But this caravan? Not a single shinobi in sight.

At the center of the caravan, riding in a lavishly decorated carriage, was the merchant who owned it all. His name was Takeda Shigenobu, a man known across the land for his shrewd business sense and an even more infamous stinginess. His reputation as a successful merchant was matched only by his reputation as a cheapskate who would haggle over the price of water in a desert.

Takeda adjusted his spectacles and peered out of the small window of his carriage, surveying his caravan with a self-satisfied smirk. Everything was going according to plan—his plan. 

"If I had hired those greedy ninjas," he muttered to himself, "I'd be out a small fortune by now. But no, this time, I've outsmarted them all."

He recalled how, just a few weeks ago, he had been on the verge of shelling out an obscene amount of money to hire a team of Jonin-level shinobi to protect this very caravan. After all, even he knew that the goods he was transporting were too valuable to risk losing to bandits or rogue ninjas. In the past, he would have reluctantly hired the best protection he could find, gritting his teeth as he signed away a chunk of his profits.

But then he had witnessed something that changed his mind.

It was the story he had heard from a friend, a fellow merchant who had been passing through a small, war-torn village. The villagers, desperate and defenseless, had pooled their meager resources to buy a single pistol. Just one bullet in the chamber, but that was all they needed. When an elite chunin showed up, thinking he could have his way with the village, a trembling villager had taken the shot. One shot, one kill. The chunin, who had surely laughed at the sight of the trembling hands holding the pistol, hadn't even had time to dodge. It was all over in an instant.

The memory of that story sent a thrill through Takeda. He had been skeptical at first—firearms, they were calling them. Tools that allowed ordinary people to generate ninja-level lethality without any chakra. It sounded too good to be true. But after seeing it with his own eyes… well, it was an opportunity too good to pass up.

So, instead of hiring a team of expensive shinobi, Takeda had invested in a different kind of protection. Every member of his caravan, from the drivers to the porters, had been armed with firearms. Pistols, rifles, even a couple of shotguns. Takeda had made sure they were trained, too—well, as much as a few hurried lessons could teach. It wasn't like they were going to be fighting an actual battle. Bandits and rogue ninjas were sneaky and tough, sure, but they were still human. And a bullet didn't care if you could walk on water or throw a shuriken at the speed of light.

Back in the shadows, the rogue ninja with the katana silently signaled the others. It was time. The caravan was in position, and the ambush was about to begin. The plan was simple: surround the caravan, strike fast, and take out anyone who resisted. No ninja meant no real threat. 

Takeda, oblivious to the impending danger, was still lost in his thoughts, a smug smile on his face. He imagined the envious looks of his competitors when they heard how he had transported such valuable goods without a single shinobi and without losing so much as a copper coin.

But as the bandits and rogue ninjas prepared to spring their trap, Takeda's gamble was about to be put to the ultimate test. In the shadows, the tension mounted, and the night air grew thick with the promise of violence. The bandits were confident, the rogue ninjas were deadly, and Takeda… well, Takeda was about to find out just how much the world had changed. 

The stage was set, the players were in position, and the only thing left was to see who would walk away from this encounter—and who would be left in the dust.