The darkness of the night was profound.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
A group of people knelt on the cold ground, heads bowed low. They ignored the numbness in their knees and kept slapping their swollen cheeks with vigor, as if this act might grant them a sliver of security.
Before them, a martial master with a bun knelt, his head pressed to the ground and his back arched. His body trembled. A bloodstained knife tip had pierced through his abdomen, and blood snaked along the ground. Enduring the agony, he was committing ritual suicide by seppuku.
This method of dying was excruciatingly painful.
In ancient times, someone often stood by with a large sword, ready to sever the head of the person performing seppuku. This served both to alleviate their suffering and to uphold the samurai spirit of an honorable death.
The bun-headed martial master wasn't so tough because of strong willpower.
It was simply because times had changed.
Before his seppuku, he had injected himself with a drug.
