A wisp of white smoke rose from the muzzle on a stretch of Gobi five kilometers from the battlefield.
Broken pieces of wood and craters of varying depths were scattered across the Gobi.
Boom!
The long blade in the hands of the Perfect Susanoo struck the fist of a massive wooden figure. Dark green wood chips flew as the wooden fist was cleaved apart, but in the blink of an eye, its palm regenerated and grabbed the Susanoo's shoulder.
"Madara, this is completely meaningless. You and I have both been dead for many years. Why must we still fight to the death? We were forced to fight back then."
Hashirama Senju had no desire to fight Madara.
"You... are still lecturing me."
Madara was somewhat furious. There was one thing he had always cared about: when he and Hashirama fought, Hashirama had used a Wood Clone to distract him and then stabbed him in the back.
If someone else had stabbed him in the back, Madara would have felt that he had simply let his guard down. But Hashirama was different. He had once been Madara's friend, and in Madara's eyes, Hashirama should never have done something like stabbing him in the back.
"We... are already dead. Why should you care whether I'm lecturing you? The past is over, and the people from the past are gone. I know you've always cared about what happened to Izuna..."
"Shut up!"
Madara was truly enraged this time.
"I should have made you taste the pain of losing your closest kin back then. If it weren't for my clan, I never would have built Konoha with you, let alone that hypocritical village that makes me sick."
This time, Madara had struck Hashirama's sore spot. To Hashirama, three things were important, and Konoha was