Obito wasn't stupid!
Yes, he was a simp and a Byakugan Wolf, but he wasn't an idiot.
Especially when Nohara Rin wasn't involved, his intelligence was far from low.
This near-mutual destruction of the White Zetsu Army and the Allied Forces was nothing like his usual style.
No matter how much he wanted to force out the Allied Forces' hidden cards through casualties—most crucially, to draw out Asuma, the one implanted with the Rinnegan—he would never charge in so bluntly.
He definitely had another objective.
Tang Ping was glad he hadn't acted rashly. Otherwise, he might have been the one enjoying this scheme.
Atop a steep cliff behind the White Zetsu Army,
a group of figures clad in Black and Red Cloud Robes watched the distant battlefield.
Akatsuki!
Every member was present.
Yet their gazes were all fixed on a figure nearby, draped in a white, snake-scale hooded cloak, with a white snake as thick as half an arm swaying behind him as he studied them with cold, sinister eyes.
Farther behind him stood dozens of upright coffins.
How could such an eerie scene not put them on guard?
Even Deidara, a madman wholly devoted to "art," wasn't shouting about displaying his art at a time like this.
He vaguely sensed that something was wrong.
"Madara, do you really think those people down there can breach the Allied Forces' defenses?"
Kakuzu turned his mung-bean-sized eyes toward Obito, who wore a spiral mask that exposed only one Sharingan.
He called himself "Madara," so everyone called him that too.
Whether they believed him was another matter.
When they needed to believe it, he was Madara. When they didn't, he wasn't.
It was that mystical.
"My preparations naturally consist of more than just this!"
Obito withdrew his gaze from the battlefield.
Of course,