Training Ground × Fight

When Izuna finished speaking, a brief, deathly silence fell over the training ground.

Then, like cold water dripping into a pot of hot oil, it erupted!

The hot-blooded young Uchiha, especially those who had already doubted or resented their "back-from-the-dead" second-in-command, were instantly fired up by the blatant provocation!

Takuma's failed sneak attack had only stirred their competitive spirit—even if he really was Lord Izuna, he had been gone for half a year, and he came back acting this arrogant?

"Get him!"

Someone let out a low shout, and five or six figures lunged at Izuna from different directions at once.

Hidden weapons came first, followed close behind by Taijutsu, while those in the rear were already forming simple Fire Style hand seals.

Izuna was actually a little nervous.

After all, this was his first true "live battle" against the ninja of this world.

Faced with attacks coming from every direction, he instinctively tensed.

But the instant the first young Uchiha's fist whistled toward his face, the familiar "rhythm game interface" unfolded before his eyes again.

The trajectories of his enemies' movements, the points where their attacks would land, and even the faint fluctuations of gathering chakra were transformed into clearly visible notes.

"Notes" and "tracks" of different colors and shapes rushed toward him to the accompaniment of intense, rhythmic background music that only he could hear.

Almost instinctively, his body reacted faster than his mind.

With a flick of his wrist, the clumsy-looking iron shovel traced a smooth arc and met the fist with pinpoint accuracy!

Bang!

The shovel blade collided with the fist with a dull thud.

"Argh!" The young man grunted, a sharp pain shooting through his wrist as the sound of cracking bone rang out clearly.

The shovel continued unchecked and slammed into his chest.

The brute force sent the young man flying upward in an arc before he crashed with a bang onto the sandy ground several meters away, clutching his wrist and unable to get up for a while.

Clean and efficient.

The entire training ground fell silent again.

"Too slow." Izuna shook out his iron shovel and offered the assessment in a flat tone, sweeping his gaze over the others. "Next."

That completely ignited the powder keg!

"Damn it!" "Get him together!" "Show him what the Uchiha can do!"

Five or six young Uchiha roared and charged at once!

Having learned their lesson, they no longer tried to thrust at him up close. Instead, they spread out in unspoken coordination and threw Shuriken and Kunai from different angles, cutting off Izuna's room to dodge.

At the same time, someone formed hand seals and spat out a massive fireball.

Faced with this multidirectional attack from all sides, Izuna remained where he stood.

His gaze was calm and unruffled, and the Tomoe of the Sharingan were not even reflected in his pupils.

In the world only he could see, countless translucent "note tracks" and flashing "judgment circles" appeared instantly in the space around him, like brilliant and dangerous fireworks.

The Shuriken and Kunai were short tapping points, close-range attacks were ordinary tap keys, and the fireball was a long bar trailing flames that required continuous hits or evasion.

"Hmph." Izuna was amused. "That's it?"

Clang! Clang, clang, clang!

The iron shovel in his hands seemed to become the living eye of a storm.

Every swing knocked away a Shuriken or Kunai with precision, the dense clatter of metal like a downpour beating against a tin roof, sparks flying everywhere.

As for the incoming fireball, his response was even more straightforward and brutal—he protected the iron shovel with chakra, wound up, and smacked it hard like a baseball!

Puff—boom!

The fireball was sent flying back the way it had come, exploding in midair into an even larger burst of flame. The blast knocked over two unlucky men who had charged too close.

And through the furious storm of attacks, Izuna himself had not moved his feet an inch.

He merely kept shifting his balance and swinging the unremarkable-looking iron shovel, forcibly "catching" every attack and then "returning" them all.

He knocked away hidden weapons, slapped Ninjutsu apart, and sent anyone who tried to close in flying with the shovel blade or handle along the way.

For a time, an absurd, jaw-dropping spectacle played out on the training ground.

A young man wielding an iron shovel stood firm as a rock in the center, surrounded by Uchiha who kept rushing at him only to go flying backward in all manner of poses, while deflected ninja tools and scattered sparks flew through the air.

Bang! Thud! "Ow!"

One young Uchiha after another was knocked away and fell onto the sandy training ground, unable to get up for some time.

Their expressions changed from anger and defiance to shock.

This was no fight at all. It was a one-sided, spectacular, and efficient "clearing performance"!

"Hikaku! Don't just stand there watching!" Caught up in the fight, Izuna spotted Hikaku standing at the edge of the field out of the corner of his eye, his face now some indeterminate shade of white, green, or red, and casually dragged him into it too.

After sweeping aside an attack from the side with his shovel, he shifted his feet and spun behind Hikaku, thrusting the handle forward against Hikaku's waist and "pushing" him toward another clansman who was charging in.

Hikaku: "!!!"

Forced to meet his clansman's attack, he blocked it in a fluster, screaming inwardly, Lord Izuna! Please spare me!

Across the entire training ground, whether they had joined the assault from the start or had been unable to hold back and joined the fray later.

Every young Uchiha who attacked Izuna, without exception, was knocked to the ground by that iron shovel in a very short time.

During it all, Izuna paid special "attention" to Takuma, who had launched the sneak attack.

Under cover from his companions, he had recovered a little and was glaring venomously at Izuna, looking for an opening.

At last, he seized the tiny interval after Izuna had just knocked three people away and was drawing his shovel back, chakra bursting beneath his feet!

He launched another surprise attack from a tricky blind spot to Izuna's rear and side!

This time, he held a Kunai in each hand, aiming for Izuna's side and the back of his neck!

Got you! Takuma roared inwardly.

But just as his foot landed and he was about to push off into a forward lunge—

Clank.

He seemed to have stepped on a piece of iron.

Takuma: "???"

He looked down and nearly popped his eyes out—the iron shovel Izuna had used earlier had somehow appeared right beneath his landing foot, and he had stepped squarely onto its now uneven blade.

Izuna, meanwhile, looked at him with a smile as he stepped on the shovel handle and dragged it backward!

Slip!

"Waaah!"

Takuma instantly lost his balance and fell backward, flailing like a clumsy acrobat as both Kunai flew from his hands into some unknown corner.

Just as the back of his head was about to hit the ground, Izuna stomped hard on the end of the shovel handle—

Swish!

The iron shovel came free of the sand and traced a semicircle through the air. Izuna caught it, and the blade whistled through the wind and smacked squarely into the face of the youth who had just sat up!

Pfft!

Takuma did not even grunt. The blow made his eyes roll back and his nose bleed, knocking him completely unconscious on the ground with a sandy shovel-blade imprint on his face.

A deathly silence filled the field.

Madara, hidden nearby, could not help covering his face.

Izuna, I know you were close to those two Senju brothers in your world, but isn't using Senju-style Taijutsu so blatantly a bit too arrogant?

Madara could see it, and of course the clansmen who had been through war could see it too.

At the edge of the training ground, the expressions of those Uchiha who formed the clan's core force had completely changed.

They might have started out watching for entertainment or to assess him, but the more they saw, the deeper their shock and doubts grew.

The Taijutsu skills, combat awareness, and control over the pace of battle that Izuna displayed were stronger than they had imagined possible.

Had that been all, it would have been one thing. They actually had no great objection to Izuna returning from the dead; there were plenty of strange things in this world, and "coming back from the dead" was nothing special.

They would watch with their own eyes to see whether this fellow disguised as a dead man would give himself away.

But...

That way of exerting force, the subtle positioning of his body during certain blocks and counterattacks! The technique of using the shovel's long handle as a lever to overcome strength with finesse!

Those were unmistakably the Senju Clan's Taijutsu techniques!

Senju-style Taijutsu?! How could Uchiha Izuna possibly know Senju-style Taijutsu?! And how could he use it so skillfully, so effortlessly?

This person before them, this powerful fellow wearing Lord Izuna's face... could he be an impostor created by the Senju Clan?!

Had those Senju bastards disguised themselves as Lord Izuna by some means the Uchiha could not understand, intending to infiltrate the Uchiha and plot something?

"Senju Style... that's a Senju Style method of exerting force!" a middle-aged Uchiha could not help growling, his gaze turning razor-sharp and furious.

"So he really is an impostor! How dare the Senju Clan insult our Uchiha like this!"

"Take him down!"

Angry roars rang out! This time, it was no longer merely youthful hot blood, but fury at being deceived and insulted, and determination to defend the Uchiha's honor!

The older Uchiha on the training ground unleashed powerful chakra at the same time! They held nothing back; Sharingan appeared, and the light of Ninjutsu began to shine.

"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"

"Lightning Release: Earth Flow!"

"Earth Release: Earth Spear!"

Blazing fireballs, spreading lightning, erupting earthen spikes... Ninjutsu of multiple attributes and flashes of blades intertwined into a web of destruction, sweeping toward Izuna and his iron shovel in the center of the field!

Faced with this volley of Ninjutsu, several times fiercer than the earlier Taijutsu assault, the smile on Izuna's face did not diminish in the slightest. Instead, it grew wider.

"Oh? Getting serious now?" He tilted his head, watching the rain of notes and special tracks in his vision instantly grow dense and dazzling as the difficulty soared. Far from being afraid, his eyes burned with even hotter interest.

"Good! That's the spirit!" He loosened his wrist and swept the iron shovel in a semicircle before him, its tip angled toward the ground as he crouched in readiness.

"But to deal with you—"

"Taijutsu is enough!"

Before the words had finished leaving his mouth, he moved.

He charged straight into the overwhelming wave of Ninjutsu.

With the help of the "Rhythm Game System," the seemingly airtight Ninjutsu attacks all had clear openings in his eyes.

The gaps between the fireballs, the blind spots in the spreading lightning, and the rhythm of the erupting earthen spikes were all plain to see.

Like a peregrine falcon flying through a forest, he stepped in a strange pattern, skimming the edges of flame and lightning and brushing past every Ninjutsu as he charged up to them with unstoppable momentum.

But the middle-aged Uchiha were far stronger than their younger clansmen.

They were true elites who had survived the brutal slaughter of the late Warring States period and been tempered amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Their chakra was abundant and concentrated, their Taijutsu moves vicious and tricky, and their combat experience terrifyingly extensive.

More importantly, they worked together with exceptional coordination. Unlike the younger men's blind assault, theirs deliberately restricted Izuna's room to move, forcing him toward a predetermined trap area.

For a time, the situation on the field reversed.

When facing these seasoned opponents, Izuna's lightning-fast reactions and precise blocks, provided by the "Rhythm Game System," still allowed him to narrowly evade or parry most of their Taijutsu attacks, but he could no longer clear the field as effortlessly as before.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The iron shovel clashed violently with Kunai and short blades, sending sparks flying.

Izuna moved swiftly across the field, twisting and weaving, now using the shovel blade to deflect a slash from the side, now using its handle to block a heavy blow from above. His footwork was nimble, always allowing him to evade deadly combined attacks at the last instant.

The middle-aged Uchiha wore stern expressions as they attacked in waves, striking and withdrawing, their Sharingan spinning rapidly as they caught every subtle movement and possible opening Izuna made.

They traded blows with Izuna and even seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

Damn it, I still can't quite keep up, Izuna thought, tiny beads of sweat appearing at his temples.

He could "see" the attacks, but when it came to making his body respond to such seasoned and relentless assaults, he sometimes still found himself unable to keep up.

After all, the human body had its limits. Even if Madara were here, relying on Taijutsu alone, he could not possibly have handled it any better.

Yet this illusion of an "even match" lasted only a dozen or so exchanges.

When the middle-aged Uchiha realized that a frontal assault would not bring Izuna down quickly, they immediately changed tactics.

"Back!"

One of them barked the command, and the men surrounding Izuna retreated together in perfect unison.

Just as Izuna's steps paused and he prepared to give chase or adjust his stance—

"Wind Release: Wind Cutter!"

"Shuriken Manipulation Technique!"

Several sharp blades of wind came silently from different angles, sealing off his escape routes.

At the same time, several Kunai and Shuriken that appeared to have been knocked to the ground sprang up as if from nowhere and shot at his vital points again from strange angles!

And that was not all!

"Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu!" "Earth Release: Rock Thieving Staff!"

Blazing fireballs rained down from above like scattered impatiens seeds.

The ground trembled slightly, and several sharp stone staffs burst from the earth, stabbing toward his ankles and knees!

Most insidious of all were the almost imperceptible steel wires.

Concealed by the wind and ninja tools, they had been quietly laid along Izuna's possible paths of movement. The moment he touched them, he would be bound.

These were the lethal techniques of a true battlefield!

The environment and Ninjutsu worked together to create a deadly, multidirectional trap.

Even someone with the Sharingan could easily fall victim to such interlocking tactics that combined real threats with feints.

"Force him to activate his eyes!" A fierce light flashed in one middle-aged Uchiha's eyes.

If this "Izuna" really was the genuine article, then faced with such a desperate situation, he would have to activate his Sharingan to calculate and respond with precision.

As soon as he activated his eyes, they would stop.

But... if he could not activate them, or if what he used was not the Sharingan, that would prove beyond doubt that he was an impostor.

When that happened, they would show no mercy and immediately strike to kill.

They believed that even Lord Madara would never stop them from cleaning house once he confirmed that the other party was an impostor sent by the Senju!

Yet faced with the combined Ninjutsu and traps that sealed off nearly every avenue of escape, Izuna's expression showed no panic at all.

In his "rhythm game vision," everything became perfectly clear.

The wind blades were short notes that flashed past quickly, the Shuriken and Kunai were scattered tapping points, the fireballs were long bars trailing flames, the earthen spikes were obstacles that required him to jump clear, and those Chakra Threads... became special tracks that required a long press and slide to handle.

Before absolute "rhythm" and "reading ahead," these carefully arranged killing moves were like notes fixed on a musical score, waiting for him to "play" them.

"Now that's more like it~" A strange smile curved Izuna's lips.

He didn't try to dodge every attack. To an ordinary person, that would have been impossible.

He simply moved.

His figure slipped like a ghost through the gaps between the wind blades. He caught a Kunai with his bare hand and flicked it at another.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The Kunai and Shuriken he struck changed course in an instant. Not only did they miss him, they collided with one another or bounced back toward their users!

As for the earthen spikes jutting from the ground, he jumped at just the right distance and stopped exactly at the limit of their reach.

Phoenix Flower Fire brushed past his hair and struck the ground, bursting into roaring flames, but by then he was already standing on the steel wires.

Then he made a move that left every onlooker dumbstruck.

The iron shovel in his hands was no longer used to block or attack. Instead, as though wielding a giant paintbrush, he flicked it precisely at the wires with a peculiar rhythm and at peculiar angles.

"Scrape—!"

The iron shovel set off the steel wires, but the deadly trap, carefully laid to wait for prey to walk into it, instantly spun out of control.

Some wires were pulled off course, tangling and knotting together.

Others were sent flying by the shovel, back toward their users.

Still others were caught in a chain reaction and snapped.

And each time, he stepped onto a safe wire, remaining steady in midair.

Backlit, he gazed at the chaos all around him.

"What?!"

"That's impossible!"

"How did he do that?!"

The Uchiha's faces changed drastically as they cried out in shock.

The technique they were famous for had been utterly thrown into disarray by their opponent, with nothing more than an iron shovel and barely any apparent effort?!

This wasn't something insight alone could accomplish! No one could make calculations like that!

In the instant they were shaken by the destruction of their trap—

An opening appeared.

For Izuna, in "rhythm game mode," any moment of stiffness or hesitation on an opponent's part appeared in his vision as a note he could hit.

Izuna said nothing, focusing solely on hitting one note at a time.

His figure vanished from midair in an instant, leaving only broken steel wires falling behind him.

The next moment, he appeared beside a middle-aged Uchiha who was still stunned.

The handle of the iron shovel whistled through the air and slammed into the man's shoulder and neck.

"Ugh!" The Uchiha's vision went black, and he collapsed limply to the ground without so much as a groan.

Without stopping, Izuna flitted like a butterfly among flowers through the enemy ranks, thrown into even greater confusion by their companion's fall.

"Bang!" The shovel blade struck the back of another man's head.

"Thud!" The handle jabbed into someone's stomach.

"Crack!" The iron shovel deftly hooked around someone's ankle and pulled, throwing him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

Every move was clean and swift, without a wasted motion, making full use of the moments when his opponents were stunned and distracted, as well as the shovel's length and broad striking surface.

In just a few breaths, seven or eight powerful middle-aged Uchiha who worked seamlessly together fell one after another like toppled dominoes under the dazzling "rhythm strikes," temporarily unable to fight.

Once again, a deathly silence fell over the entire place.

The only sounds were the wind sweeping dust across the training ground and the faint noises of a few Uchiha who were still groaning.

Hikaku's mouth hung open. He was utterly speechless.

The Uchiha who had not joined the attack, young and old alike, stood as though frozen by a jutsu. They stared blankly at the young man in the center of the field as he slowly lowered his guard and planted the iron shovel in the ground with a thud, breathing slightly hard.

He still hadn't activated his Sharingan.

Apart from the fine sweat on his temples and his slightly hurried breathing, nothing suggested he had just taken down all the seasoned battlefield fighters on the training ground.

The ordinary iron shovel's blade and handle were covered in scratches from ninja tools and blackened by flames. It could already be declared ruined.

But not a single person dared step forward to cross him again.

Izuna steadied his breathing and swept his gaze over his clansmen sprawled on the ground, finally resting it on the faces of the onlookers.

A smile with a touch of youthful spirit blossomed on his face.

Sunlight shone down, casting a warm glow in his black eyes. The wind stirred his clothes, and as he smiled, he seemed to glow.

"That's about enough for a warm-up, right?"

He asked in a clear voice.

"Anyone else want to continue?"