Although the soul-tearing pain was subsiding and numbing at an extremely slow pace following the completion of the cutting.
The mere flash of a thought in his mind—"What just happened"—caused a terrifying sensation known as "phantom pain" to immediately coil around him like a cold venomous snake, making him suffocate instantly, as if that boundless agony would return at any moment.
Time flowed silently amidst the dead silence and gasps for breath.
After an unknown amount of time, Takuno finally managed to prop himself up with difficulty.
Benefiting from a physique and recovery power far exceeding ordinary people, the purple bruises on his skin were fading at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He took another deep breath, forcibly suppressing the residual palpitations in the depths of his soul and the tremors of his body, and steadily formed a complex seal with his hands in front of his chest.
Kai (Release)!
The memory seal regarding 'Sasuke' was released.
Sure enough, it was as expected.
The core of the memory had been completely excised. Beneath the unraveled seal, all experiences regarding that name were left as nothing but a cold, lifeless void.
Takuno gazed at this void, the corners of his mouth twitching upward ever so slightly, his eyes flashing with a tired yet cold satisfaction.
However, this was only the beginning.
Next, there were four more segments of memory that needed to undergo this hell-like cycle of cutting...
As this thought rose, Takuno's gaze fell upon his own hands.
Those hands, which had once formed seals to release powerful ninjutsu and held blades to slay strong enemies, were now trembling uncontrollably, subtly yet violently.
He looked silently at these hands that had betrayed his will; a moment later, an extremely faint, cold smile with a thick sense of mockery appeared on his face.
Heh, is the body's instinct in fear, using this method to protest and resist repeating that torture-like act?
Pity.
His will was the sole and absolute master of this powerful shell!
Even if every nerve was screaming to flee, even if the instinct of the flesh was fighting back desperately, it would not stop his established path!
Thus, amidst the ruins of this hidden, deep underground laboratory known to no one.
The ninja who had already stood atop the peak of power in this era closed his blood-red eyes once again, preparing to welcome the next round of soul-lingering torture.
Roars of pain, accompanied by dull thudding impacts, once again tore through the underground silence, echoing for a long time.
Time seemed to flow viscously amidst the endless torment, until the last trace of abnormal fluctuation in the laboratory completely subsided, and the small space returned to dead silence.
On the cold floor, Takuno collapsed as if all his strength had been drained.
Sweat and eye-piercing blood had long since mixed on the ground, forming patches of dark red, messy puddles, soaking his entire body within them and emitting a heavy scent of rust and salt.
His expression was listless to the extreme; his eyelids drooped heavily, and his unfocused gaze was cast toward the blood-stained ceiling, as if even the strength to think had been squeezed dry.
This was likely the first time Takuno had been so listless in this world—not because of surrounding powerful enemies, nor because of being near death from heavy injuries, but rather the result of him taking a knife to his own memories.
Those five segments of entangling memories were finally forcibly "excised," but the pain of the surgical process was something that even he, as the practitioner, would never be willing to replay even a single fragment of in his mind.
That soul-tearing agony—even if one had fortunately survived it in past experiences—offered no possibility of becoming accustomed to it; every touch was like falling into the Avici Hell.
Takuno did not even want to move a single finger now. The impact injuries on the surface of his body were actually quite heavy, but with the perverse recovery power of his body itself, his bones and muscles were not in serious trouble.
Now, despite the blood splattered all around him, the injuries on his body had actually recovered by seventy or eighty percent.
However, a bone-deep sense of fatigue pressed heavily upon his spirit like a maggot in the marrow, lingering and unavoidable.
This fatigue did not stem from muscles, but from the exhaustion and emptiness in the depths of the soul, far more suffocating than physical injuries.
Looking around, compared to his own wretched state, the "tragic state" of this laboratory was undoubtedly more shocking.
Everywhere his gaze reached—the cold floor, the pale walls, the high ceiling—was splattered with mottled, dripping bloodstains.
They were like a frantic ink-splatter painting, arbitrarily smeared in every corner.
Coagulated dark red and yet-to-dry bright red intertwined, forming a hair-raising scene, as if a bloody chainsaw massacre had just taken place; the thick smell of blood almost condensed into substance, lingering in the air.
Time passed slowly, and after an unknown duration, Takuno finally struggled with his body with extreme reluctance.
It wasn't that some urgent matter was calling him, but rather the bloody and filthy environment made it truly impossible for him to rest in peace.
He was not a person with a cleanliness obsession, but he did not want to accept such a slovenly place either.
He grit his teeth, and a low grunt full of pain and resistance escaped his throat; almost by sheer willpower, he dragged his body—heavy as lead and with every inch of muscle protesting strongly—out of the pool of blood.
He staggered, pausing with every step, dragging his leaden legs as he moved with difficulty toward the bathroom.
The cold stream of water flushed down, carrying away the blood, sweat, and stickiness from his body, yet it could not wash away that weariness in the depths of his soul.
He completed his cleaning at the fastest speed and then, almost by instinct, threw himself heavily onto the bed in the lounge, instantly falling into a dazed darkness.
In the following days, Takuno rarely interrupted all his training.
It wasn't that his heart was lazy; it was simply that the spiritual sea was like cracked, parched land—exhausted and listless, far from recovered.
To force training in this state would not only result in half the effort for twice the result, but a slight lapse in concentration could trigger unknown and dangerous backlashes, which would be the real trouble.
Specifically, the "Spirit Transformation Technique" which required precise mental control—he had to seal it away for a long time to come and could not touch it at all.
However, this pure recuperation did not last long.
A few days later, when the suffocating sting deep in his spirit eased slightly, even though complete recovery remained distant and most research was impossible.
But Takuno had already begun pure physical tempering that did not rely on spiritual power.
Thus, after a long time, he poured all his concentration into the polishing of his body.
At this moment, he also felt a bit fortunate, because those few segments of memory were actually only memories from within illusions; the content of the memories seemed long, but in reality, they were quite short segments of memory.
And this made Takuno's excision of this part of the memory slightly easier.
But even so, as he estimated the speed of spiritual healing, it was not a short journey—it might take several months to completely calm down.
During this long one-month recovery period, his overall combat power—especially the part dependent on spiritual power—would inevitably suffer non-negligible weakening.
But Takuno felt no excessive worry in his heart.
With his current foundation of strength, even if his spirit was slightly lacking, the combat power he could exert was still enough to rank among the top even today, ensuring self-preservation without concern.
Although he had endured that unforgettable skin-deep pain and had to face this one-month "window of weakness," he was absolutely certain in his heart that it was all worth it!
If he had not chosen this extreme and painful "excision" therapy, he would have had to wait passively, enduring those segments of memory affecting him slowly like malignant tumors for several years.
That kind of indefinite torment was the price he absolutely could not tolerate.
Now, although he needed to stay away from mental training during this month, it wasn't as if he had nothing to do.
Physical tempering was like climbing a never-ending natural chasm; its limit was far from being reached, just like the legendary peak of Taijutsu, Might Guy—ahead of him, there still existed an even broader realm.
Then, taking this recovery period as an opportunity to focus on polishing the shell, letting power roar in the flesh and tenacity settle in the bones—that would be fine!
......
In the depths of the Anbu headquarters in Konohagakure, a quiet and heavy atmosphere filled the office of the Commander-in-Chief.
Behind the massive desk, Takuno's Wood Clone was seated in the primary position—the seat symbolizing the highest authority of Konoha's shadow forces.
He leafed through scrolls and reports, the slight rustle of paper exceptionally clear in the silent room.
As three years flowed by, Takuno had been promoted from Deputy Commander to Commander-in-Chief overseeing the entire situation.
The increase in power also brought an expansion of responsibilities: he now had a vital task on his shoulders—protecting the safety of the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato.
However, this responsibility was, for him, more of a symbolic arrangement than a heavy burden.
With Minato's miraculous Flying Thunder God Technique and the powerful sealing foundations of the Uzumaki clan, true "protection" was nearly redundant.
If an actual accident were to occur, under Takuno's principle of not exposing his strength, it might be a toss-up as to who was protecting whom.
What Takuno did was merely arrange a small number of elites to take turns on duty near the Hokage building as a matter of routine, essentially providing some manpower for Minato to handle miscellaneous and complicated affairs.
Therefore, Takuno's total daily workload did not significantly increase due to the change in title, and overall he maintained a relaxed composure.
This "ease" actually stemmed from that frank job negotiation he had with the Fourth Hokage back then.
At that time, Namikaze Minato had hoped to hand over the three core powers of the Anbu—intelligence collection and analysis, the Hokage's personal guard, and the Special Operations Division for executing top-secret missions—all to him.
If that had truly been the case, Takuno probably would have had no leisure time at all.
Fortunately, after he clearly expressed his personal wishes and argued his case, Minato finally conceded with a bit of a helpless compromise, peeling off the most mentally taxing "Special Operations Division" and handing it to the newly promoted Deputy Commander.
The candidate for this new Deputy Commander was no surprise: Namikaze Minato's most outstanding student, Hatake Kakashi.
As time settled, the "genius youth" from the Third Shinobi World War—who once stood out solely due to his sharp offensive edge while being slightly thin in other aspects—had now finally stepped fully into the true Jōnin realm.
Although this speed was somewhat delayed given Kakashi's startling talent, he had ultimately grown solidly.
Takuno's gaze lingered for a moment on Kakashi's evaluation report, and he understood.
That single Sharingan that did not belong to him was like an invisible shackle, having long hampered the growth and application of his chakra.
Fortunately, Kakashi was now in the prime of his strongest physique; although his chakra volume was far from vast, he had moved past the predicament of the very scarce amounts of his early years.
While maintaining the continuous daily consumption of the three-tomoe Sharingan, he could finally squeeze out more precious chakra to put into training.
With his talent and foundation, climbing steadily to the level of an Elite Jōnin should not be difficult.
It's just... Takuno shook his head imperceptibly, a trace of unspeakable regret flashing through his heart; it was a pity for those golden years that should have seen high-speed growth.
He quickly collected his thoughts, because this was ultimately the path Kakashi chose to shoulder, and no one had the right to criticize it.
Minato's high hopes for him were already glaringly obvious; Kakashi's future was almost paved as a smooth path toward the Anbu Commander-in-Chief, and even the position of the Fifth Hokage was not impossible.
Under such high regard, and with the top-tier sealing expertise of Namikaze Minato and Kushina, handling a single three-tomoe Sharingan was by no means impossible.
That eye remained in Kakashi in a perpetually active state to this day; the answer could only be that Kakashi himself was unwilling to seal it.
If this were placed on Takuno, it would absolutely never happen.
Had it been his choice, he would have unhesitatingly attempted to seal it in the shortest possible time to isolate its influence;
If the seal proved ineffective, he would have decisively gouged it out and sealed it properly, only taking it for use once his own chakra was sufficiently vast.
But this was merely "his" opinion.
He and Kakashi did not have a deep personal friendship, so he naturally saw no need to remind the other.
Kakashi's choices and results ultimately had nothing to do with Takuno.
To speak deeply to a casual acquaintance is a great taboo in social conduct; even if the words are truly for the other's sake, they may lead to misunderstanding or even resentment.
Thoughts returning to the present, Takuno's gaze refocused on the latest report submitted by the intelligence department in his hands.
The information on the paper caused a slight ripple in his deep eyes.
The core of the report was the Uchiha clan, which had been silent for a long time.
After the Nine-Tails' Rampage, under the effective appeasement policies of the Fourth Hokage and the extreme constraints of Clan Head Fugaku.
The behavior of the Uchiha clan within Konoha had indeed been restrained and low-key for a considerable period, and the tense relationship between the clan members and the villagers once showed signs of easing.
However, this hard-won peace had recently seen disturbing cracks quietly appear.
Intelligence showed that the signature arrogance and indifference—looking at everyone as if they were thorns—of some Uchiha members seemed to be showing signs of resurgence.
And there had already been several verbal and even physical conflicts with villagers.