The Condensation of the Chakra Fruit

Cang's eyes were closed, yet his consciousness had never been clearer than it was now.

His chakra sank into the earth beneath his feet like roots, into every vine of the God Tree, into Madara's shriveled body, into those piled-up white cocoons. He was drawing it in. Drawing every bit of chakra he could draw into himself. The Six Paths chakra within Madara, the chakra the God Tree had absorbed from all across the shinobi world, the chakra of those trapped within the Infinite Tsukuyomi inside the white cocoons—all of it streamed into Cang's body like rivers flowing into the sea.

That power was immense. So immense that his body began to radiate heat, that his white robe fluttered wildly without wind, that his six Truth-Seeking Orbs spun madly like six ignited stars. Yet Cang's expression did not change in the slightest. The faint, half-smiling curve still lingered at the corner of his lips.

"Come."

He spoke a single word softly.

The six Truth-Seeking Orbs behind him abruptly stopped—not "stopped," but "locked on." Like six satellites simultaneously fixing onto the same target. Cang spread his fingers toward Madara, then slowly clenched them.

Madara's body convulsed violently.

The Six Paths tomoe in his left eye had spun so fast they could no longer be seen clearly, becoming a blurred ring of purple light. His mouth hung wide open. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. His body was withering—not shriveling, but being "drained dry." The chakra within him, the power of the Sage of Six Paths within him, everything he had accumulated since becoming the Ten-Tails' Jinchuriki, all poured from every pore like floodwaters released from a dam, surging toward Cang.

Black Zetsu huddled on the ground, its white eyes fixed tightly on Cang. It was trembling. Not out