Return Trip · Madara's Gaze

The embers of battle had yet to fully cool, and the scent of blood mixed with the smell of scorched earth, pressing heavily upon everyone's hearts.

The Uchiha ninja moved with swift, silent efficiency, scouring every corner of the fortress for any intelligence scrolls or supplies of value. As for the bodies—whether enemy or ally—they were handled with practiced routine: the enemy's were gathered for incineration, while their own were carefully collected in sealing scrolls, prepared to be brought back to the clan lands for burial.

This was the way of the Warring States period; cruel, yet necessary.

Uchiha Sou assisted with the cleanup, but the bulk of his focus remained submerged in the shock of his earlier "unintentional interference." He subconsciously reined in his mind, avoiding unnecessary thoughts while meticulously sensing the subtle connection between his ocular power and the surrounding environment.

He discovered that when he deliberately kept his mind as calm as an ancient, unrippled well, the feeling of being "out of sync" with the world—as if he could slightly nudge reality—diminished until it was almost imperceptible. Yet, the moment his emotions fluctuated—be it killing intent, vigilance, or even intense focus—that subtle "sense of interference" became a fraction clearer.

Was this more of a passive, domain-like influence based on his emotions and willpower, rather than an active skill?

He could not fully grasp it yet, but he at least had a preliminary direction for perception and control: to control his emotions was to control the switch and intensity of this ability.

"Withdraw!"

Izuna's cold voice rang out, interrupting Tsang's thoughts.

The intelligence gathering was complete; there was no value in lingering. The Uchiha squad retreated as silently as they had arrived, leaving behind the burning fortress and plumes of black smoke as a bloody declaration to the Senju clan.

The atmosphere on the return journey remained oppressive, but compared to the grim resolve of their departure, it was now tinged with exhaustion and melancholy. Even in victory, the pain of losing comrades lingered. The squad moved silently through the dense forest, maintaining a faster pace and peak vigilance to guard against potential pursuit or retaliation.

Uchiha Sou continued to follow at Izuna's side, his Double Tomoe Sharingan remaining active. However, he no longer processed information at high intensity, maintaining only basic observation and warning while continuously practicing the perception of his own subtle "sense of interference" while in a state of mental calm.

He discovered that during high-speed movement, if he could predict subtle changes in the terrain a fraction of a second in advance—such as a low-hanging branch suddenly jutting out or a loose stone—he didn't even need to use his special ability. A mere, minute adjustment of his body or a flicker of chakra was enough to guide the clansmen following diagonally behind him to naturally avoid these trivial obstacles, making the squad's movement smoother and more stealthy.

This guidance was not forced; it was a near-instinctual, subtle prompt based on precise prediction. This seemed to be another way to utilize the combination of those eyes and that special sensory power.

Izuna clearly noticed this. During a brief rest, he walked over to Tsang and handed him a canteen.

"Your eyes are more useful on the battlefield than I imagined." Izuna's voice was lowered, carrying a hint of inquiry. "It's not just observation and prediction... you seem to make the coordination around you more 'fluid'?"

Uchiha Sou's heart tightened slightly, knowing Izuna's observational skills were razor-sharp. He took the canteen and took a sip, using the moment to organize his words.

"I just see a little more clearly, allowing me to spot minor troubles in advance," he chose an explanation that was closest to the truth while concealing the core. "I try to save everyone some effort."

Izuna glanced at him, those sharp Three Tomoe eyes seemingly capable of peering into the soul, but in the end, he simply nodded without pressing further. "A good instinct. Keep it up; it will save many lives at critical moments."

"Yes." Tsang breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The squad continued forward, and finally, the silhouette of the Uchiha clan lands came into view. When the remaining clansmen saw them return—especially when they saw the remains of their comrades being carried at the rear—the atmosphere turned sorrowful and heavy once more.

This raid had been a success, but it had come at a price.

Clan Head Uchiha Tajima came out personally to hear Izuna's brief report. When he heard that they had successfully wiped out the enemy outpost and obtained border defense intelligence, a look of satisfaction appeared on his grim face, but that satisfaction was quickly replaced by coldness when he heard the casualty figures.

"For the glory of the Uchiha, their sacrifice is worth it." Tajima's voice held no warmth. "Bury them properly. Double the compensation."

"Yes, Father." Izuna bowed in response.

With the report finished, the squad disbanded. The exhausted ninja dispersed to tend to their wounds, rest, or immerse themselves in the grief of losing friends and family.

Uchiha Sou prepared to return to his quarters to rest and review the day's battle and discoveries.

However, just as he turned, an indescribable, mountain-like pressure suddenly descended from behind him!

It was not killing intent, yet it was more suffocating than any killing intent. It was as if he were being stared at by some ancient, primordial beast; his blood and chakra seemed to freeze for a split second!

He whipped his head around.

Not far away, under the shadow of a Honeysuckle Pine, a figure stood with arms crossed.

Long black hair, a face as cold as stone, and in his scarlet eyes, three tomoe slowly rotated, carrying a cold, powerful indifference that looked down upon all living things.

It was Uchiha Madara.

He had appeared there at some unknown time, seemingly having watched for a long while. His gaze was not directed specifically at Tsang, but swept over the remains being carried away, over the grief-stricken clansmen, and finally, that gaze landed with tangible weight upon Uchiha Sou, who still bore the smoke and blood of the fierce battle.

Merely being caught in the periphery of that gaze caused Uchiha Sou's Double Tomoe Sharingan to spin uncontrollably, as if encountering something of the same origin but far superior—he felt both oppressed and a surge of irrepressible resonance and agitation.

Madara's gaze lingered on him for about a second.

That one look seemed to pierce through his skin, seeing the newly evolved Double Tomoe in his eyes that already displayed extraordinary performance despite their rawness, seeing the heavily depleted yet exceptionally active ocular power within his body, and perhaps... even vaguely sensing that unique "fluctuation" that even Tsang himself had yet to fully understand.

There was no indication, no praise, and no questioning. It was like a lion glancing at a cub that had just learned to pounce.

Then, Uchiha Madara withdrew his gaze, his figure merging into the shadows and vanishing without a sound. The suffocating pressure dissipated as if it had never existed.

Not until long after Madara had left did Uchiha Sou slowly exhale a breath he had been holding, a fine layer of cold sweat breaking out on his back.

Was this the power of Uchiha Madara? That merely standing there was enough to make one unable to even conceive of resistance?

Moreover, had he... noticed something just now?

Alarm bells rang in Tsang's heart. Madara's perception and insight far exceeded Izuna's, perhaps even exceeding his own imagination. Could his little secret really remain hidden in front of him?

But at the same time, a more intense longing burned in the depths of his heart.

A longing to possess such power! A longing to be able to control his own destiny, and perhaps... control the chaotic causality of this world!

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

Back in his quiet quarters, Uchiha Sou did not rest immediately. Instead, he activated his Sharingan once more and stared at his own palm.

This time, he did not attempt to influence external objects.

He began to attempt a more precise internal observation, to feel the linkage between the flow of ocular power and that special "sense of interference," and to attempt to actively, and with extreme subtlety, "set" a certain "cause" within himself.

For instance, to increase his chakra refinement speed by one percent over the next minute.

Or, perhaps, let the subtle fatigue in a muscle of his arm recover just a fraction faster.

The effect was infinitesimal, almost impossible to measure, and perhaps even a mere psychological placebo.

Yet he knew that this path was the right one.

External causality was difficult to shake, but starting from within himself—practicing and controlling the "causality" that was most minute and closest to his own being—was perhaps the safest and most effective approach at this stage.

Outside the window, the setting sun dipped low, stretching the shadows of the Uchiha compound into long, distorted shapes.

In the compound, a few more fresh graves had been added; sorrow and hatred were silently settling and fermenting.

Inside the room, the youth stared at the faint glimmer in his hands, the two tomoe in his eyes rotating slowly as he attempted to capture and weave those intangible, formless threads of fate that might determine his future.

The gaze of Uchiha Madara was like a sword hanging over his head, bringing with it an unprecedented sense of crisis, yet also fueling a more powerful drive.

He had to grow faster, to possess the strength to protect himself and even... to play the game, before those eyes that overlooked everything truly took notice of him and potentially marked him as an anomaly or a pawn.

In this chaotic era of the Warring States, there was no room for the slightest slack.