The Vengeful Old Fox

Inside the command tent, the topic of becoming the Fourth Hokage was still under discussion, but everyone's expressions had grown much more solemn.

Uchiha Fugaku's voice was low and grave, as though every word weighed a thousand pounds. "Everyone, we need to make a decision. Do we return to Konoha with honor and money, content with the status quo? Or do we take a risk and fight for the position of Fourth Hokage?"

The moment he finished speaking, Uchiha Yashiro abruptly rose to his feet. The Three-Tomoe Sharingan in his eyes spun madly, while rage suppressed for years burned within his scarlet gaze. He slammed his palm heavily onto the table, making the tea set clatter loudly.

"Fugaku, is there even a choice? The Uchiha Clan has endured for far too long. Last night's battle proved that we have the power to change the Ninja World's balance. If we miss this chance, the Uchiha Clan will forever be shut out from Konoha's center of power."

The water in the teacups sloshed violently, dark brown tea continually spilling over and winding across the sandalwood tabletop. Like the fury the Uchiha Clan had suppressed for years, it had finally found an outlet.

Clan Head Kurama stroked the fresh scar on his chin thoughtfully and said with concern, "But supporting the Kirigakure battlefield will definitely mean many casualties... Without the village's supplies, and with the higher-ups in the village secretly holding us back... can we... really win?"

His gaze swept across every face in the tent before finally settling on Fugaku.

Clan Head Kazami slowly turned the ring on his finger, its jade surface occasionally reflecting a soft gleam.

"But this is also our best opportunity. In wartime, strength reigns supreme. We have just secured a decisive victory against Iwagakure, and our prestige is at its peak. If we can achieve another great feat on the Kirigakure battlefield, the position of Fourth Hokage will not be beyond reach."

Upon hearing that Clan Head Kazami agreed as well, Uchiha Yashiro suddenly erupted. The three tomoe in his Sharingan spun rapidly, crimson chakra nearly spilling from his eyes.

"Everyone, last night's battle saw us capture five thousand Iwagakure shinobi and demand thirty billion ryo in reparations. Such achievements have already made Konoha's higher-ups unable to sit still. We have become a threat to them, so even if we obediently return, will we truly be safe?"

His voice suddenly dropped, yet became all the more chilling. "How did the Senju Clan disappear? How did Hatake Sakumo die? It has only been a few years. Have you really forgotten already?"

The tent fell deathly silent. Only Uchiha Yashiro's angry breathing echoed through it, while everyone's expressions became unreadable.

As he listened to their arguments, Uchiha Fugaku's eyes fell upon the small flag representing Konoha on the sand table. It stood at the center of the Land of Fire, surrounded by the flags of the other four great nations. It was just like the Uchiha Clan's position in Konoha—seemingly at the core, yet actually isolated and helpless.

"If we decide to defy orders and head to the Kirigakure battlefield, how exactly do we proceed? What about Sarutobi Hiruzen? He will certainly send people to stop us." Uchiha Fugaku's voice broke the silence.

Uchiha Sanpo's eyes gleamed with a shrewdness far beyond his age. "We need a legitimate reason. For example... intelligence that the Kirigakure battlefield has sent an urgent plea for aid. For Konoha's benefit, we would have no choice but to rush to their support immediately. Once we arrive at the Kirigakure battlefield and secure a decisive victory, even if the Third is dissatisfied, he will be unable to condemn us before the villagers."

Hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the tent. An Uchiha shinobi threw open the flap. "Report! Ōnoki has arrived with thirty billion ryo in war reparations. He has reached the entrance of the stronghold!"

Uchiha Fugaku nodded, his face revealing no emotion. "Understood. Arrange for them to wait outside first."

After the messenger shinobi withdrew, he looked around at the others. "Let us put the matter of supporting the Kirigakure battlefield aside for now. We will decide after refining the details of the plan. First, let us meet Ōnoki and collect the thirty billion ryo in reparations."

Outside the camp gates, Ōnoki's small figure floated in midair, the wrinkles on his face seeming to have deepened further.

Behind him stood dozens of Iwagakure jonin. Their bodies were tense, and unwilling fury burned in their eyes.

Ōnoki's voice was hoarse and dry, as if he had not had water in a long time. "Gari, bring out the reparations."

The Iwagakure shinobi named Gari stepped forward. His movements were stiff and mechanical, as though every joint resisted this humiliating task. He gently placed a large sealing scroll on the ground, formed hand seals with both hands, and struck it.

With a bang, the white smoke dispersed, revealing dozens of black metal chests neatly arranged on the ground. Every chest bore a sealing talisman marked with the character for "Rock," and the edges of the paper still showed traces of other seals having been torn away.

Uchiha Fugaku signaled his subordinates to inspect them while ordering several thousand Konoha shinobi to secretly prepare for battle, in case Ōnoki went back on his word and launched a surprise attack. His Sharingan remained fixed on Ōnoki at all times, ready to respond to any possible assault.

Uchiha Fugaku slightly raised his hand, and a squad of Uchiha elites immediately stepped forward to inspect the chests.

To guard against Ōnoki reneging on the deal, several thousand Konoha shinobi had already secretly prepared for battle. The cold glint of kunai flickered among the branches and leaves, while the fuses of Explosive Tags were carefully clutched in their hands.

Ōnoki said expressionlessly, "I have brought the money. When will you release them?"

Uchiha Fugaku calmly responded, "Bring them all out."

The camp gates slowly opened, and more than five thousand Iwagakure prisoners marched out in a long line. Most of them were wounded and dispirited, completely unlike the fierce figures they had been on yesterday's battlefield.

Ōnoki's gaze searched through the prisoners before suddenly fixing on a tall figure... his son, Kitsuchi.

Kitsuchi kept his head lowered, deliberately avoiding his father's gaze. The shame on his face was plain to see.

Ōnoki suddenly cursed, his voice filled with anger and disappointment. "Useless trash... You fought the war into this state... and you still have the nerve to live."

Kitsuchi's body visibly trembled, but he continued to keep his head lowered, not daring to meet his father's eyes.

Several Iwagakure shinobi stepped forward to support him, but he roughly shoved them away.

The exchange proceeded unexpectedly smoothly. Though Ōnoki's face was so dark it seemed ready to drip water, he ultimately did nothing out of line.

Only when the last Iwagakure prisoner had left the camp did Uchiha Fugaku's tense shoulders relax slightly.

An Uchiha shinobi reported in a low voice, "Clan Head, the inspection is complete. It is indeed thirty billion ryo, not a single coin short."

Uchiha Fugaku nodded almost imperceptibly. As he watched Ōnoki lead the Iwagakure forces away, a question arose in his heart.

"Will that vindictive old fox really admit defeat so easily?"

Ōnoki