We offer the nobles a share of the profits—and they will support us.
As for those who refuse… we send a few shinobi bearing gifts, wishing them long life and good health.
Licenses will be ours quickly.
Naturally, we prefer negotiation—buying them out where possible, unifying the trade peacefully.
He had the advantage of modern knowledge of salt production.
Once his facilities were running at full capacity, output would soar, profits would multiply, and he could even undersell other nations—bringing wealth and stability to Konoha at last.
Minato Namikaze lifted a cup of fragrant flower tea, took a gentle sip, then turned to the elder of the Hyūga clan.
He spoke solemnly: “In that case, I entrust this difficult task to the prudent and steady Lord Hyūga.”
The Hyūga had always been known for their caution and reliability—exactly the qualities Minato needed.
He sought not only the clan’s cooperation, but to demonstrate his sincerity.
By placing this matter in their hands, even if it did not succeed, their measured approach would prevent any irreparable rift between Konoha and the Land of Fire.
The Hyūga elder nodded silently, though he had yet to grasp the full gravity of the situation, his mind still weighing how new taxes would affect his clan.
“This is not a matter for one house alone—it concerns the entire Land of Fire,” Hikuro said evenly.
“Every sector must be informed to avoid future strife.
We have no wish to hoard everything, but we will concede no more than thirty percent of the profits.”
The bond between the Land of Fire’s Daimyō and Konoha was tangled and fragile.
To reshape the world, Hikuro knew he must first erode the Daimyō’s power—and when the time came, overthrow it entirely.
From this moment, he would move with deliberate care.
The Third Hokage drew on his pipe, his expression dark.
“The Daimyō will not resist openly—the realm itself teeters on the edge.
If this venture brings greater revenue, he will grumble, but little more.
Yet…” He trailed off, uneasy.
Men like them had always lived by the blade; commerce was foreign to them.
In the old wars, skill and rank determined reward.
Trade and production were beneath a shinobi’s station.
Only an outlier like Hikuro spoke of business.
A rare few might run supply shops or dabble in odd ventures, but these were personal pursuits, not the way of the ninja.
Shinobi had long confined themselves to war, blind to politics and economics.
Asuma bore the title of Guardian of the Twelve, yet it meant nothing in practice.
Hikuro’s alliance with Minato shattered old norms—and filled the Third with deep unease.
Still, he knew Konoha had no good options.
Minato was his chosen successor; if the boy trusted Hikuro, he would support him.
Salt was cheap to shinobi—their pay made it trivial—but for ordinary folk it was a luxury beyond reach.
In the poorest regions, people still used vinegar‑soaked cloth as a substitute.
Sarutobi had seen it firsthand; the memory weighed on him.
Without salt, farmers lost their strength to work, and families starved.
It was essential.
If demand rose and Hikuro’s methods boosted supply, Konoha’s finances might yet recover—and the common people might finally eat well.
The meeting ended in gloom.
The Third Great Ninja War had barely ended, and the shadow of conflict loomed again.
Few believed Hikuro could truly mass‑produce salt—only his past successes kept them from dismissing the idea entirely.
The consensus was clear: full‑scale war was unlikely, but skirmishes were all but certain.
“Monday to Friday – Update 3 Chapters a Day”
“Saturday and Sunday – Off”