Aftermath of Battle, Undercurrents Rise

The Uchiha clan retreated to their ancestral lands.

Unlike the tragic solemnity and flames of vengeance that had marked their departure, the returning procession was shrouded in a strange silence. Had they won? It seemed so. They had forced the Senju to retreat, and their clan leader had displayed power akin to that of gods and demons, suppressing Hashirama Senju. Yet, why was there so little joy in their hearts, replaced instead by a deeper confusion and an indescribable exhaustion?

The clansmen's gazes drifted involuntarily toward the solitary, aloof figure at the front—Uchiha Madara. He walked in silence, radiating a chilling aura that forbade approach, as if he had locked all his emotions within that powerful shell. No one dared to step forward to speak; even cheers felt inappropriate. He had personally avenged his brother, yet he had also personally halted that vengeance. This contradiction left the entire clan feeling adrift.

Upon returning to the clan grounds, Madara headed straight for Naka Shrine, sealing himself away once more. Clan affairs were temporarily handed over to a council of elders.

The victory banquet was held in haste, the atmosphere stifling. As the sake flowed, the talk was not of future aspirations, but of fear and awe toward that god-like power, and anxiety over the clan's path forward after the sudden loss of Izuna.

"That power of Lord Madara... it was truly like a god..." "But Hashirama Senju actually blocked it..." "What happens now? Peace talks? With the Senju?" "Are you joking! Tobirama killed Lord Izuna! How could that debt just be forgotten?!" "But the clan leader stopped..."

Various speculations, anxieties, and even subtle complaints and confusion regarding Madara's decision circulated quietly in private. With Izuna, the de facto administrator, gone, the various voices within the Uchiha that had been suppressed by sheer force began to surface.

Uchiha Sou observed all of this in silence. He clearly perceived that the sense of "Dissonance" permeating the clan had not diminished with the pause in hostilities; rather, it had become more complex and obscure. Hatred, fear, confusion, the thirst for power, uncertainty about the future—these emotions intertwined, as if the entire Uchiha territory were shrouded in an invisible, restless web.

He knew that Madara's decision to stop was not forgiveness, but rather a brief stagnation following extreme pain and bewilderment, perhaps coupled with a lingering attachment to the illusory dream Hashirama had painted—a sentiment even Madara himself might not have realized. But how long could this fragile balance last?

As for himself, he used this relatively calm period to immerse himself more deeply in the practice of "Weaving Logic."

He repeatedly recalled and savored that strange, fleeting experience on the battlefield, the moment his Inner Harmony collided with the immense "Dissonance" of the outside world—the glimpse he had caught of those crisscrossing "threads."

What exactly were they?

Were they threads of Causality? Strings of fate? Or were they the "veins" of the world's operation, perceptible and perhaps even exploitable when the rules of the world were in motion?

He attempted to re-enter that state while in a calm environment, but it proved exceptionally difficult. It seemed he could only touch that level of perception when there was a sufficiently strong "Dissonance" in the external environment to serve as a reference point and "fulcrum."

Thus, he made a bold decision.

He began to walk through the clan grounds consciously and with extreme caution, actively approaching those clansmen whose emotions fluctuated violently and whose hearts were filled with contradiction. He did not intervene; he acted only as a quiet observer, simultaneously channeling the state of "Weaving Logic" to try and perceive the subtle ripples of "Dissonance" radiating from them, attempting once more to "touch" them with his own Inner Harmony.

This process was far more difficult than it had been on the battlefield, as the "Dissonance" of an individual was far weaker and more complex than that generated by the collision of god-like powers. He failed time and again, and the drain on his mental energy was immense.

But Tsang did not give up. He knew well that if he could not perceive and understand the subtle "Dissonance" of an individual, how could he ever hope to touch or influence the grand "Causality"?

Hard work pays off. By chance, while approaching an elderly woman who wept day and night over the loss of her son, her heart filled with sorrow and hatred, he channeled "Weaving Logic" to its limit and carefully extended his Inner Harmony.

This time, he did not try to touch the intense sorrow itself, but instead attempted to perceive the "connection" between this sorrow and the surrounding environment.

In an instant, he felt as if he had seen it again!

Though extremely blurry and fleeting, he had indeed "seen" an incredibly faint, dim "thread" extending from the woman and connecting to the distance—the direction, shockingly, was where the battlefield lay! This thread radiated an aura of deep sorrow and deathly silence.

At the same time, there were several even finer "threads" connecting her to others in the clan (likely her relatives or friends), and these threads carried emotions like worry and pity.

He had succeeded! Although he could not intervene, he had indeed perceived it! He had perceived a certain invisible "connection" between individual emotions and the outside world!

This confirmed his hypothesis! The path of "Weaving Logic" was no delusion!

Suppressing the excitement in his heart, he continued his silent attempts. He found that the number of "threads" he could perceive grew, and although the vast majority remained blurry and difficult to interpret, he began to roughly distinguish the attributes of the "emotions" or "intentions" these threads carried—sorrow, anger, joy, killing intent, protection...

He even attempted, upon sensing a thread of faint "killing intent" directed at him by a clansman (perhaps merely displaced anger due to a bad mood), to mobilize his Inner Harmony ever so slightly. He did not resist; instead, he "disturbed" that thread like a passing breeze.

As a result, the clansman simply felt an inexplicable palpitation and irritability, glared at Tsang, and walked away without taking any real action.

The effect was so weak it was almost negligible, but this was undoubtedly a milestone! It meant that his power could indeed exert a minute influence on the "causal connections" of the outside world!

Just as Uchiha Sou was engrossed in this novel exploration and cultivation, the situation in the outside world was not truly calm.

The Senju clan was likewise licking its wounds, digesting the terrifying fact that Uchiha Madara had obtained new power. Tobirama Senju held great vigilance and distrust toward the possibility that "Uchiha Madara might agree to peace talks." He firmly believed that the evil nature of the Uchiha could not be changed, and he began to secretly accelerate research into certain forbidden techniques, especially those meant to counter the Sharingan and Madara's new power. He believed that peace was merely an illusion, and only sufficient power could ensure the safety of the Senju.

Meanwhile, Uchiha Madara remained alone in Naka Shrine, his gaze shifting unpredictably as he stared at the stone tablet. Izuna's death, the power of the Eternal Mangekyou, Hashirama's words, the undercurrents within the clan—everything was intertwined in his heart. His will swayed violently between hatred and that faint, lingering yearning for another possibility.

Beneath the brief post-war calm, the embers of hatred had not been extinguished; instead, they were quietly growing in the shadows, weaving together with the fragile, nascent sprouts of peace.

Undercurrents were gradually surging beneath the tranquil surface.

Uchiha Sou perceived all of this, and he knew that this fragile balance would not last long. He had to seize the time to travel as far as possible on the path of "Weaving Logic" before the storm arrived once more.

His gaze turned toward the south again, as if piercing through layers of obstacles to see that blood-soaked land, and the opportunity for deeper power that might be buried beneath it.