Uzushiogakure Camp.
Orochimaru stared at the translucent screen suspended before him, pupils narrowing slightly. "Who is this person?"
"If I told you," Li Rong replied flatly, "you'd report it to Konoha without hesitation."
Orochimaru didn't deny it.
"I want to use this as a trial," Li continued. "Let those youngsters investigate it themselves. The process matters more than the answer—it'll temper them faster than any lecture."
Orochimaru's lips curved faintly. "Anyone who can control a Mizukage for years is almost certainly a Mangekyō Sharingan user. You're not worried they'll die for nothing?"
"I didn't force them," Li said calmly. "And Konoha has no excuse to hide the danger. If they chose to step forward, they accept the consequences. If someone fears death, they shouldn't leave home."
Orochimaru chuckled and waved the topic away. It didn't concern him.
"My first improvement plan failed," he said instead. "The medicinal potency of this world's herbs is insufficient. I'm considering replacing Silver Moon Flower with Grade-One Blood-Stopping Grass from another world—and substituting Coagulation Grass for Steadfast Grass. Thoughts?"
"Try it," Li answered without hesitation. "An alchemist grows through refinement, not caution. Don't conserve ingredients for my sake."
"Heh. I asked out of politeness," Orochimaru admitted. "I'd have tried regardless."
He absently brushed the ring on his finger, satisfied. Every day now brought something new—unknowns worth chasing.
"Good," Li said. "Trust yourself—but never blindly. Same goes for others."
Deep underground, far from Uzushiogakure's light.
"Lord Madara," White Zetsu reported eagerly, twisting with barely contained excitement, "the Hidden Mist operation failed. The Third Mizukage is dead. They've confirmed long-term Sharingan control."
Madara's eyes opened slowly.
"What happened?"
"It was those brats," White Zetsu said, gesturing wildly. "They had a living-storage treasure! Two monsters comparable to Tailed Beasts were released—Hidden Mist Village was nearly overturned!"
Tobi stepped in smoothly. "The fallout is spreading. All major villages have reinforced genjutsu countermeasures. Konoha has begun a comprehensive investigation into the Uchiha—missing members, confirmed dead, everything. They're trying to locate every corpse."
Madara's expression didn't change.
"Futile," he said. "They'll find nothing."
No matter how thorough the search, the conclusion would be the same: Uchiha Madara's body was hidden by Senju Tobirama. To find him, they'd have to question their own Second Hokage.
They never would.
As for genjutsu precautions—meaningless. Ants couldn't resist his eyes, no matter how many rituals they added.
The real variable was the Sacrificial Shop.
Calculating calmly, Madara reached a conclusion that even he found unsettling.
If one squad carried two such beasts, the others wouldn't be empty-handed. The Sacrificial Shop likely controlled twenty entities at that level.
Even Madara felt a chill.
"That place is dangerous," he said. "Pull all White Zetsu back from the Land of Whirlpools. No approach. No observation."
He paused. "What about candidates within the Uchiha?"
Tobi handed over a scroll. "Three qualify. Uchiha Obito. Uchiha Shisui. Uchiha Homura. Of the three, Obito is the most emotionally unstable."
Madara studied the profiles in silence.
Time was no longer on his side.
He was alive only because the Gedo Statue sustained him. When he awakened the Rinnegan, his body had already been at death's edge. Though he obtained the truth recorded on the ancestral stone tablet—the power of all creation—he lacked the strength to gather the Tailed Beasts, activate Infinite Tsukuyomi, and impose his vision of eternal peace.
Then he discovered the answer.
Rinne Rebirth.
Die once. Be revived. Return in his prime.
A perfect reset.
But the plan demanded precision.
First—the vessel.
The Rinnegan's power was too vast. Transplant it into an ordinary ninja and it would devour them—chakra, vitality, everything—until only a husk remained. To wield it fully, the host had to meet two conditions: descent from the Sage of Six Paths, and overwhelming life force.
Only two bloodlines qualified.
Uzumaki. Senju.
After years of searching, Madara found his answer—Uzumaki Nagato, an orphan in the Land of Rain.
Second—the guide.
The Rinnegan's system was complex beyond measure. Without instruction, Nagato might never unlock Rinne Rebirth in his lifetime. Madara needed an intermediary—someone who understood the eyes, could earn Nagato's trust, guide his growth, and shape his beliefs subtly enough that, when the time came, he would cast the jutsu.
Third—control.
Once Nagato mastered Rinne Rebirth, his power would surpass restraint. No one willingly dies to resurrect another.
So Madara needed a shadow—an Uchiha proxy—to watch Nagato after Madara's own death.
His gaze stopped on one name.
"Obito," Madara said quietly. "Focus on him."
White Zetsu hesitated. "But he's the weakest of the three."
Madara's eyes dimmed, as if looking into the past. "Strength means nothing to the Uchiha."
He continued, voice distant. "Only when the Sharingan awakens does our true nature appear. The deeper the love… the greater the power when it twists into hatred."
"That is the essence of our eyes."
Tobi frowned. "Konoha is tightening security. Patrols inside and outside the village. The Uchiha have increased their own surveillance as well. Fugaku even invited the Hyuga to participate. White Zetsu infiltration is becoming difficult."
"Then we wait," Madara said, closing his eyes once more. "This balance won't last."
Darkness reclaimed the chamber.
Time, after all, was on his side.
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