Time flowed on through the peace of the omni-dimension to the one hundred and twentieth spring and autumn. The Seed of Transmitted Thoughts had long since taken deep root in the souls of every generation of living beings. Hearts falling into harmony had become instinct, and the Realm of No-Thought wrapped around all things like air. The power, rhythms, and missions of the past had all shed their glitter and returned to the truest form of existence.
Boruto and the others' faces had been lightly touched by time, gaining a few traces of gentle age, yet they still stayed together day after day, their steps unhurried. They no longer deliberately went to the heart-dwelling place, no longer touched the gap net, no longer activated Dojutsu. They simply walked through the streets and alleys of the Leaf in the form of the most ordinary living beings, living amid the smoke and warmth of the mortal world.
That morning, before the forest dew had dried, an extremely faint, extremely soft breath—utterly different from the Sound of Returning Order and the omni-dimensional Heart Sound—quietly washed across the entire Shinobi World. It carried no sense of power, no sound of resonance, and could not even be perceived, yet in an instant, it stirred in the hearts of all living beings a long-lost tranquility, clear and pure as the beginning.
Boruto was bending over to help a child pick up a fallen paper kite when his fingertips paused slightly. He did not activate his Jōgan, yet he clearly "saw" that wisp of breath—colorless, formless, without warmth. It was the Breath of Omni-Dimensional Return to Truth after every embellishment, every rule, and every obsession had been stripped away.
Sarada had just sealed away the organized clan records in the secret chamber of the Exchange Bureau. The