God-Tier Kazekage: Building the Ultimate Hidden Sand Village

Hashiya-chō, the most bustling area in the western district, was a continuous stretch of interconnected courtyards adorned with bamboo groves, wooden bridges, and artificial rock gardens. The air was filled with a refined elegance.

However, within one of the houses on the left side, the scene unfolding was entirely at odds with the serene atmosphere outside.

"Please, sir, no! I only perform arts, not this!" cried a beautiful young girl, her face filled with terror as she pleaded with the well-dressed middle-aged man before her.

"Heh heh! Whether you only perform arts isn't up to you to decide!" The middle-aged man had a grotesque appearance: a round head, small eyes, a pale, beardless face, and hair only remaining on the sides of his head.

"Sir, if you come any closer, I'll scream for help!"

"Ah!" The girl let out a sharp scream.

The middle-aged man's breathing grew rapid as he took in the girl's delicate and pitiful appearance.

He raised his thick hand and reached directly for the pale pink kimono she wore.

Tears welled up beneath the girl's slender eyebrows, but she continued to struggle desperately.

"The madam said I'm qualified to compete for Oiran! She promised me I wouldn't have to entertain clients yet..." her voice was filled with stubborn determination.

"Oiran? Hahaha! Do you think becoming an Oiran is that easy? She's just waiting for the highest bidder, that's all."

"I've already offered several times the usual price. It's more than enough for them to make a fortune."

"Don't worry. As long as you submit to me, your deadbeat father's debts will be written off!" The middle-aged man forcefully tore open the front of her kimono. The sight of her smooth, fair skin ignited the flames of lust that had been simmering within him.

Ever since he had accidentally seen this girl, he had been captivated by her graceful figure and dignified demeanor.

This kind of temperament, cultivated through years of immersion in art and literature, was his favorite. However, the exorbitant price of an Oiran meant he could only admire her from a distance.

In the pleasure quarters, young girls with potential were trained extensively in various arts, including dance, calligraphy, tea ceremony, musical instruments, conversation, and etiquette.

The high-ranking courtesans who completed their training exuded an aura comparable to noblewomen.

However, their skills also included specialized techniques to please clients in intimate settings, which made them all the more sought after by aristocrats.

The middle-aged man had managed to secure this opportunity today thanks to his connections with the management of this pleasure quarter.

He grabbed the knot of the girl's kimono and pushed her onto the bed, his massive body pressing down on her.

"Ah!"

The girl, frail and petite, was nearly overwhelmed by the greasy stench invading her nostrils and the weight of over 200 pounds bearing down on her. She was on the verge of fainting.

...

"Hey, have you completed the task assigned from above?" Outside the courtyard, two guards were chatting.

"No, it's so hard to make a living... Are we really consuming the courtesans this quickly? Why are we being forced to fill two slots ourselves?" complained a young guard in black, who appeared to be in his twenties.

"Heh! I've already filled four slots this month!"

"And the rewards are paid on the spot!" The older man beside him wore a smug expression.

"Wow! Senior, where do you get so many resources?"

"If I can't meet the quota this month, I'm going to lose this job!" The younger guard's face was filled with envy and frustration.

"Haha! Kid, since you've been respectful to me, I'll give you some advice."

"Normal families won't sell their children, but you'll have better luck with those who have bad habits like gambling or heavy drinking."

"Spend some time in taverns and gambling dens—it's easy to find opportunities there!" The older man patted the younger guard on the shoulder, speaking with confidence.

"But, senior... isn't that just tricking people into selling their daughters?" The younger guard hesitated, his expression uneasy.

"Hah! Never thought you'd be such a soft-hearted fool."

"Then why are you even doing this job?" The older man sneered.

"Well... I have to support my family..." the younger guard muttered, embarrassed.

"There you go! Money doesn't have a clean or dirty side. We're not forcing anyone to sell; we're just giving them a channel to do so." The older man gave a knowing smirk.

"Hey, enough talking! Someone's coming!"

"Looks like a big spender. We might get a bigger reward this time!" The older man's eyes lit up as he spotted two figures approaching in the distance.

"Sir, this is the place!" Kazuhiro Mori was stopped by the two guards. He turned his yellow-brown eyes toward Sōmi, his gaze filled with anticipation and urgency.

Sōmi nodded slightly, then cast a heavy gaze at the two guards. A suffocating aura emanated from him, making it feel as though a ferocious beast was standing before them, ready to devour them whole.

"Take me to see Risa Izawa!" Sōmi commanded in an unquestionable tone.

Sweat beaded on the forehead of the younger guard, who froze in place under the oppressive pressure. Fortunately, the older guard's experience kicked in.

He quickly nodded and bowed, ushering Sōmi and Kazuhiro Mori inside while frantically searching his memory for the name "Risa Izawa."

"Sir, please wait here. I'll bring her to you shortly," the older guard said, leading Sōmi to an elegantly decorated side room.

The room was flanked by maids dressed in gray kimonos. Though their appearances were plain, their demeanor was impeccable.

After Sōmi took a seat, the maids swiftly served tea and water with practiced efficiency.

Before long, a middle-aged woman entered with a pigeon-toed gait, followed closely by the older guard, who was whispering something to her.

"Greetings, sir!"

"You're here for Risa Izawa, correct?" The middle-aged woman dismissed the guard with a wave of her hand before kneeling gracefully across from Sōmi, her face adorned with a polite smile.

She observed Sōmi carefully, occasionally sneaking a glance at Kazuhiro Mori, who stood beside him.

"Yes," Sōmi replied casually, lifting the steaming teacup before him. The rich aroma filled his senses, evoking the refreshing vitality of budding bamboo shoots in spring.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but Risa is currently attending to another guest." The middle-aged woman, her makeup meticulously applied, still retained a certain charm. She must have been quite beautiful in her youth.

Sōmi frowned, his patience wearing thin. "Bring her here!"

"Sir, I'm afraid that's impossible. First come, first served. You're a guest, but so is the other party," the woman replied smoothly, her crimson lips parting and closing with practiced precision.

With a loud thud, Sōmi tossed a piece of red gold onto the table.

As someone who wielded Magnet Release and controlled gold sand, money was never a concern for him.

"Bring her to me now!" Sōmi's tone turned icy, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees instantly.

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