The next morning, the last surviving members of the syndicate—the ones who had hired the assassins to take Ash''s life—arrived at Shirogiri Manor. They were summoned by Ash, eager to witness the fruits of their disastrous attempt. They filed into the grand hall, their faces drawn and wary, the weight of the previous night''s failure hanging heavily in the air.


    A long black lacquered table stretched before them, set with a collection of ceramic teacups filled with steaming green tea. But these were no ordinary teacups.


    Each one had been painstakingly crafted from the skulls of the five assassins—their names etched in the bone: Kurai-no-Kaze, Jinrai, Mukuro, Shinsei, Tsumetsu. The skulls had been hollowed out, each polished and shaped into a grotesque vessel. A permanent mark of their failure, each cup now held the bitter taste of death.


    Kaede, dressed in a flowing black kimono embroidered with crimson accents, stood at the head of the table. She moved with an eerie grace, her steps soft yet deliberate. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes cold and calculating as she prepared the tea.


    She poured the steaming liquid into each skull-etched cup with precision, her movements as calm and deliberate as a traditional tea ceremony, but there was no beauty in this ritual. Only finality. Each cup was an offering of dominance, a reminder of the price of failure.


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    One by one, the syndicate leaders took their cups, their hands shaking slightly. Some hesitated, their gazes flicking nervously between Ash, Kaede, and the skull cups. The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with the realization of what they had just witnessed—the death of their own hired killers.


    Ash sat back, watching them with a detached expression. He was calm, calculating. His fingers lightly tapped against the table as he studied each of them. The game had begun, and he was in control.


    Kaede placed the last cup before the final syndicate leader and stepped back, her sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of weakness. The men hesitated, but knowing that refusal meant certain death, they drank. One by one, they lifted the cups to their lips, their hands trembling as they swallowed the bitter liquid. The taste of failure, of defeat.


    But two men refused, their resolve unwavering. They placed their cups back onto the table, their gazes locked with Ash''s. They would not be cowed, not yet.


    Kaede''s eyes shifted to Ash, her face unreadable. She stood silently, waiting for his decision.


    Ash''s expression remained calm, but his eyes burned with the weight of his rule. He leaned forward, his gaze settling on the two men who had dared defy him.


    "Tell me..." he said slowly, his voice low but filled with deadly intent, "why shouldn''t I kill you all?"


    The two men locked eyes, the tension in the room growing unbearable. Kaede''s gaze flicked to Ash, waiting for his judgment.


    As Ash spoke, his voice carried the authority of the Shogun of the Underworld. He had claimed his victory, and now it was time to ensure that those who remained knew that the consequences of defiance were swift and unforgiving.


    The final test of loyalty had begun.


    And the Shogun of the Underworld was ready to deliver judgment.