By the time the deep night had arrived, the moon shone bright. In the mountain ravines north of Konoha, a stream trickled below while a flat cliff top stretched above.
The cliff top lay beneath the shadow cast by the broad canopy of a towering tree, and lush bushes at least half a person tall grew beneath it. Apart from the mosquitoes it bred, this could be considered an excellent hiding place.
At the same time, it was also an excellent observation point. From here, one could clearly overlook most of Konoha. More importantly, the Uchiha Clan's residential district lay diagonally below. Ever since Konoha was founded, the "independent-minded" Uchiha Clan had always been one of the village's main objects of attention, so that they could be shown deeper care at the "appropriate" time—or destroyed more thoroughly.
So far, the Uchiha Clan had indeed received little care, but neither had it been destroyed. Their various circumstances had fueled their dissatisfaction and magnified their ambitions. They had constantly tested Konoha's bottom line, while Konoha's reactions had always been so slow, even yielding at times. To some extent, this had allowed them to sink into a sense of blind optimism.
The Uchiha Clan had always remained in a Schrödinger-like state of being ready to explode at the slightest touch. They might rebel, or they might not; nothing could be said for certain. But was Konoha really so helpless that it could be pierced like a balloon with a single poke? Anyone with a normally functioning brain knew how to answer that.
At that moment, a small squad of ANBU shinobi crouched silently on the cliff top. Two watched the streets below, while one kept guard against their surroundings.
It was not until the early hours of the morning that another squad came