I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

Uchiha headquarters.

The moment the shadow clone dissipated, all the memories flooded back into Shuoge's mind like a tidal wave.

The morning mist, the gate of the farmhouse, and the terrified look in Takuya's eyes as he turned around.

A knife.

Then he crouched down next to the corpse, took out his ninja tool bag and headband one by one, formed hand seals, and used Fire Release: Ash Burning.

Flames licked the ground, bones shattering, turning white, and crumbling into powder in the intense heat. A gust of wind blew, scattering the ashes, which mingled with the soil, leaving nothing behind.

Throughout the entire process, his hands never trembled, his breathing remained steady, and his heartbeat never accelerated.

Shuoge stood by the window, looking up in the direction where the Shimura clan was located.

That direction was far away, blocked by layers of rooftops and trees, and nothing could be seen. But he knew that Danzo was in some underground base over there, sitting in the darkness, tapping his cane with his fingers, like a lurking snake.

"This is just interest, Danzo."

He spoke. His voice was very soft, so soft it was as if he were talking to himself.

His expression was grim. Not from regret, not from fear, but because—he felt nothing at all after killing Takuya.

There was no pleasure, no satisfaction, not even a trace of relaxation.

That man's nephew died, and that man wouldn't even frown at this good-for-nothing.

One life for another?

No.

My uncle's life is far beyond what Takuya could compare to. Even a hundred Takuyas tied together wouldn't be worth a single finger of my uncle's.

This is just a little interest. A pittance of interest.

Shuoge withdrew his gaze and looked down at his hands. These hands had just killed someone, cleanly and efficiently, leaving no trace.

But he didn't feel proud; on the contrary, he felt somewhat ashamed.

Next time—

He didn't want to keep doing this sneaking around anymore.

It's not that I don't want to kill, it's that I don't want to hide.

I don't want to use shadow clones at night, I don't want to use fire jutsu to burn corpses, and I don't want my enemies to die without knowing who did it.

He wanted to stand before Danzo, to make him see clearly, to let him know who it was, and to let him die knowing the truth.

But that's not enough yet.

Far from enough.

Danzo is surrounded by Root, Jonin, and countless spies and traps. For him to rush in now would be tantamount to suicide. Takuya is merely a pawn; killing a pawn won't save the player's life.

He needs to become stronger. Stronger than Danzo's men can't stop him. Stronger than the Third Hokage dares not touch him. Stronger than the entire Hidden Leaf Village can't suppress him.

Shuoge turned around, walked to the wall, took down his long sword and hung it on his back.

Pushing open the door, the moonlight in the courtyard was very bright.

The wind wasn't waiting for him in the neighbor's yard, and he didn't go to see the wind tonight. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to be seen, and didn't want anyone to ask him, "Are you alright?"

He is very bad.

But he doesn't need anyone else to know.

He left the Uchiha compound, walked through the empty streets, and headed towards the forest near the river.

The river flows under the moonlight, just as it did when the mirror was still there.

He stood on the shore and drew his knife.

Swing a knife.

One, one, another.

The sound of the blade slicing through the night wind echoed through the woods, just like yesterday, just like the day before yesterday, just like when the mirror was still there.

But his blade was faster than yesterday, heavier than the day before. Each strike carried something long suppressed—not anger, but determination. The determination to do it "next time."

……

……

……

After Kagami died, Shisui became very quiet.

It wasn't the kind of childish sulking or refusing to speak; it was genuine silence—like a still pond. A four-year-old shouldn't be this quiet.

Shuoge would visit him in the neighboring yard every day.

Sometimes it was before setting off in the early morning, sometimes it was after returning at night. He wasn't good at coaxing children, nor was he good at saying comforting words; he just sat beside Shisui and watched him practice shuriken.

Shisui's shuriken had already been thrown very accurately.

Ten shots, all hitting the bullseye—that's genius level for a four-year-old.

But after each throw, he would look back at that spot where Jing used to stand. He would squat down, pat him on the head, and say, "Good shot."

It's empty now.

Shi Shui glanced at it for a moment, then turned back and continued throwing.

The eleventh target missed. The twelfth target missed again.

Zhi Shui's hands were trembling.

It wasn't from exhaustion; it was the kind of trembling that you've held back for so long and finally can't hold back anymore. He lowered his head, looking at the shuriken in his hand, his shoulders trembling slightly. There was no sound, just trembling.

Shuoge walked over, squatted down, and took the shuriken from his hand.

"take a break."

Zhi Shui didn't move, her head bowed, tears sliding down her cheeks and dripping into the soil.

Shuoge didn't know what to say. He was never good at this.

When Jing was around, these were the words she said: "It's okay," "It will be alright," "I'm here."

Now that Jing is gone, he should say these words, but he can't bring himself to say them.

He simply squatted in front of the still water and didn't leave.

"Brother Shuoge," Zhishui suddenly spoke, his voice very soft, as if afraid of being overheard. "Is he not coming back?"

Shuoge was silent for a moment.

"Um."

Zhi Shui lowered his head again.

Tears were still flowing, but he didn't cry out loud.

"I know," he said. "I know... he went to a very far place."

"But... why did he take so long? He promised to teach me a new shurikenjutsu. He promised so many times. Every time he said he would teach me when he got back. But he never did."

He looked up at Shuoge. His eyes were red, but he wasn't crying.

Shisui suddenly turned around, staring at Shuoge with red eyes.

"Brother Sakugo, is it Danzo? Is the murderer that guy named Shimura Danzo?"

Shuoge's fingers tightened slightly. "Who told you that?"

"I overheard it." Shisui's voice trembled. "Uncle Feng said that the information was leaked to Iwagakure by Root's people, and Root was acting on orders from Shimura Danzo."

Sakugo looked into those eyes. Those eyes would later become the legendary "Shisui of the Body Flicker," eyes that would terrify Danzo to the point that he would stop at nothing to steal them.

But now, those eyes only hold the sorrow of a child who has lost a loved one.

"Zhi Shui." Shuo Ge squatted down to look him in the eye. "Your task now is to grow up safely."

"But--"

"No buts."

Shuoge interrupted him.

"Before my uncle left, he told me that Shisui always practiced shuriken alone and had no one to keep him company. He told me to go and check on him more often."

"He doesn't need you to avenge him."

"It's about your happy and healthy growth."

Tears welled up in Zhi Shui's eyes, and he sobbed, his shoulders shaking. Shuo Ge didn't hug him; he just squatted in front of him and didn't leave.

When the crying subsided, Shuoge stood up and handed the sword back to him.

"Can I still vote?"

Shisui sniffed and took the shuriken from his hand.

Turn around and face the target.

The sixteenth target, the bullseye.

The seventeenth target, the bullseye.

The eighteenth target, the bullseye.

……

……

……

Half a year.

Jing's death was like a stone thrown into water; the ripples not only did not dissipate, but spread outwards in concentric circles, growing farther and farther, and sinking deeper and deeper.

The atmosphere at the Uchiha compound has changed.

When Kagami was alive, the clansmen were wary, but that wariness was directed outwards—towards the village, the Hokage, and other clans.

It's different now.

Vigilance turned into silence, and silence into repression. Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one spoke it aloud.

The Third Hokage visited several times to offer his condolences, saying things like "Kagami is a hero of Konoha" and "The Will of Fire will never forget him."

The clansmen listened, nodded, bowed, and saw them off.

Then he went home and remained silent.

The mirror's seat was empty; no one was sitting there.

-

In the past six months, Shuoge has grown taller, his shoulders have become a little broader, and the calluses on his hands have thickened.

He had already mastered the use of his two-tomoe Sharingan, and had shown his prowess in several small-scale conflicts.

Feng said he was progressing too fast and told him to take it easy.

Shuo Ge verbally agreed, but his knife never stopped.

Kakashi also went to the battlefield.

It's not logistics, it's the front line.

White Fang's son, with his reputation as a genius, was thrust into the line of fire earlier than others. He returned twice, each time more silent than the last.

The two men occasionally bumped into each other by the river, but they didn't speak; instead, they each brandished their knives.

Kai did not go to the battlefield.

He wasn't qualified. The ninja academy only had first and second-year students left; the older students had all "voluntarily" applied to graduate early.

But he ran even more frantically.

Five hundred laps become one thousand laps, one thousand push-ups become two thousand.

Some people said he was stupid, but he ignored them. Some people said he would never catch up with Kakashi, but he ignored them. He just ran, running in circles, as if chasing something.

Shi Shui has grown another year older.

At five years old, he already throws shuriken more accurately than most genin.

He stopped asking about Uchiha Kagami and Shimura Danzo. He just practiced every day, until dark, until his fingers were worn raw, until Sakugo came to call him home.

Then the next day, they continued practicing.

-

The change began with a message.

The Third Kazekage has disappeared.

When the news reached Konoha, everyone was guessing—what did "missing" mean? Was he dead? Was he captured? Or did he leave on his own? Nobody knew.

But everyone knows one thing: Sunagakure, the Village Hidden in the Sand, has vanished.

A village without a shadow is like a headless snake. It either curls up and waits to die, or it goes berserk and bites wildly.

Sunagakure chose the latter.

They suspected other ninja villages were behind it—Konoha, Iwagakure, and Kirigakure. There was no evidence, and no need for evidence.

War doesn't need evidence, it only needs a reason.

The Sand Village declared war on the Leaf Village. Immediately afterward, the Stone Village moved, the Mist Village moved, and the Cloud Village loomed menacingly on the border. The Third Shinobi World War had officially begun.

-

The Land of Fire is located in the center of the ninja world, possessing the most fertile land, the densest forests, the most abundant water resources, and a network of thoroughfares.

This should have been Konoha Village's greatest advantage, but during the war, it became the target of everyone's attacks—everyone wanted a bite, and no one wanted to take less than others.

There is no real alliance among the five major powers.

The declaration of war stated "to jointly attack Konoha," but everyone knew in their hearts that it was just empty words.

Sunagakure wants the resources of the Land of Fire, Iwagakure wants to expand its territory, Kirigakure wants to take advantage of the situation, and Kumogakure wants to test Konoha's bottom line.

They gathered together not because of trust, but because of greed.

Interests have temporarily bound them together on the same chariot, but no one knows which direction it will go, how far it can go, or when it will fall apart.

What Konoha needs to do is not to defeat everyone at the same time.

That's impossible, the First Lord is no longer here.

What Konoha needs to do is hold on.

Hold on through the first wave, withstand the fiercest impact, hold on until that chariot falls apart on its own.

Because wolves aren't a monolithic group; when their interests align, they're a pack of wolves, but when their interests clash, they become vicious dogs—vicious dogs will kill each other. Konoha only needs to stand alive in the mud and watch them tear each other apart.

This is not a fair and square tactic; this is war. It is the bloody reality of survival in the cracks.

-

When the news reached the ninja academy, the classrooms were silent for a long time.

Then someone cried.

It's not fear, it's that those senior students who were called up to the front lines really won't be coming back.

The streets were plastered with conscription notices.

Long lines formed at the recruitment office; it wasn't voluntary, it was by appointment.

Those whose names were on the list came to register, while those whose names weren't on the list hurried past with their heads down, not daring to look into the eyes of those in line.

The lines outside the grocery store grew even longer. Rice, salt, dry rations, medicine—everything was rationed, and everything was in short supply. Someone bought a roll of bandage for ten times the price on the black market, only to hear that there wasn't even enough hemostatic agent at the front lines.

The lights in the Hokage Building stayed on all night.

The Third Hokage sat in his office all night, his pipe going out again and again. Three intelligence reports lay spread out on his desk—Sunagakure on the northern front, Iwagakure on the western front, and Kirigakure on the eastern front.

Three lines, attacked from three sides.

"When the First Generation was here..." he muttered to himself, without finishing his sentence.

—Konoha is no longer the Konoha that could suppress the ninja world by itself.

But Konoha cannot fall in his hands!

-

When the news reached the Uchiha camp, the clansmen remained calm.

What was bound to happen has finally happened.

Fugaku stood in the clan hall, a conscription order in front of him.

The number of ninjas the Uchiha clan needed to send, their assignments to which fronts, and who would lead them—everything was written down clearly. He finished reading, put it down, and looked up.

"Execute according to the list."

No further words were needed.

The tribesmen accepted their tasks and turned to leave.

Some people looked back, some didn't.

When Jing was around, she would always say something before each expedition—"Be careful," "Come back alive," "I'll be waiting for you."

Nobody says those things anymore.

Sakugo also received a mission. Not logistics, but the front lines. The Land of Rain, towards Iwagakure.

Departure time: tomorrow morning.

He returned home, wiped the knife clean again and again, checked his ninja tool bag three times, and tucked the shuriken that Shisui had given him into his waistband. Then he sat by the window and looked out.

The wind knocks at the door. "Ready?"

"Um."

"Come back alive."

Shuoge did not answer. Feng stood there for a while, then left.

Late at night.

Shuoge was still sitting by the window, his knife resting on his knees.

I could hear weeping in the distance; I wondered which family was seeing someone off.

Tomorrow, he'll leave too. Like Jing, he'll exit through the same door, walk the same path, and head in the same direction. But he's going to kill, not to die.

He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, the war will truly begin.