Settling In

The morning mist had yet to dissipate, but the rhythmic sound of air being sliced already echoed across the training ground.

Jingxin stood ten meters away from a wooden target, his wrist flicking with steady precision.

Three shuriken flew out in a triangular formation, pinning themselves accurately within three inches of the bullseye.

He walked over to retrieve the shuriken, returned to his original spot, and repeated the same motion.

This was not a performance; it was the foundation.

He needed every muscle in his body to memorize this sensation.

Physical conditioning followed immediately after.

Squats, push-ups, frog jumps, and weighted runs around the training ground.

Sweat soon soaked through his clothes, but he did not stop until his body was pushed to the brink of its limit.

This was a world where individual martial power could override the collective.

It followed a twisted, flawed logic—the strong were inherently righteous, and the weak were inherently guilty.

To have a bright future, one must inevitably pay with an equal amount of sweat.

Fortunately, Jingxin possessed the system function known as Linear Potential.

He had no bottlenecks and no upper limit to his potential.

For every bit of effort, there was a corresponding reward.

Every drop of sweat would absolutely never fall onto the land of a capitalist.

How could he not be motivated?

Once physical training concluded, chakra refinement was a mandatory daily lesson.

He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and felt the flow of energy within his body.

Chakra was extracted from his cells, slowly converging along his meridians.

This process was dull and long, yet he could clearly perceive the slow growth of his total reserves.

The most special training took place in the afternoon.

When his chakra had recovered to its optimal state, Jingxin formed hand seals to create a Shadow Clone.

The Sharingan of both the clone and the original body ignited with a scarlet glow simultaneously.

A single tomoe slowly rotated.

Genjutsu activated.

The night in the Uchiha compound, corpses strewn everywhere...

Every detail was magnified, and every shred of terror was recreated.

Jingxin maintained his clarity within the illusion.

He forced himself to face that heart-wrenching agony head-on.

During this process, the suppressed emotions combined with his own chakra through his Uchiha bloodline, transforming into a special energy that gathered in his head like a trickling stream.

The Sharingan rotated slowly, and under the influence of this energy, his ocular power grew bit by bit in silence.

The illusion shattered; the genjutsu training ended.

Jingxin gasped for air, raising a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Then, he froze, for the world in his eyes had become clearer than ever before.

The spiderweb in the corner of the training ground, the cracks on the distant rock face, the frequency of a flying insect's wings in the air.

No detail could escape his eyes.

More importantly, the tomoe in his Sharingan had changed from one to two.

Two-tomoe Sharingan.

His ocular power had increased by more than just a single grade.

Jingxin felt this newfound strength; the improvement in his power was so clear, so tangible.

"Jingxin!"

A crisp, feminine voice came from behind him.

Jingxin dispelled his Shadow Clone and turned around.

Kurotsuchi stood at the edge of the training ground with a brilliant smile on her face: "Grandpa told me to come get you for dinner!"

Ever since she found out Jingxin was a boy, Kurotsuchi's attitude had undergone a subtle change.

To put it simply, she had become much more enthusiastic.

Kurotsuchi walked over, wearing the black and red training outfit common in Iwagakure, and even at her young age, one could vaguely discern her stunning leg-to-body ratio.

Kurotsuchi stared at Jingxin with her dark eyes and laughed: "Don't push yourself too hard in training; remember to rest."

"Thank you." Kyoshin Uchiha nodded, though he was analyzing the situation internally.

This change might simply be a case of opposites attracting.

The two walked home side by side, and the dining table was spread with a sumptuous feast.

Ōnoki sat at the head of the table, Kitsuchi sat to his side, and Kurotsuchi naturally took the seat next to Kyoshin.

The atmosphere was much more relaxed than before.

Ōnoki looked at Kyoshin. "Your observation period has ended."

Kyoshin set down his bowl and chopsticks, sitting up straight.

Ōnoki's expression softened. "Welcome to Iwagakure, Kyoshin Uchiha."

A smile appeared on Kitsuchi's face, and Kurotsuchi's eyes lit up.

A weight lifted from Kyoshin's heart.

After the meal, Ōnoki stood up. "Come with me."

Tsuchikage Office.

Ōnoki walked to the stone desk and took out an official registration form.

"Fill in your detailed information."

Kyoshin took the form, filled it out item by item, and handed it back to Ōnoki.

Ōnoki took the form, read it over carefully, and pulled an Iwagakure forehead protector from his drawer. "From today on, you are a ninja of Iwagakure."

Kyoshin took the forehead protector; the metal felt cold and solid. He solemnly tied it around his forehead.

Ōnoki watched his movements, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. "The village can feel your sincerity, and sincerity is a two-way street."

He took out a set of keys and placed them on the table. "You must have noticed the row of detached houses next to mine; the one on the left is yours now."

Ōnoki wasn't finished yet. "Every month, you will receive a stipend of ten thousand ryo."

To be honest, given the cost of living in the ninja world, ten thousand ryo really wasn't much.

But what if that was just pocket money?

Ōnoki continued, "Within Iwagakure, you may take whatever you need from any shop selling ninja supplies; you only need to have the shopkeeper send the bill to the Tsuchikage Office."

Kyoshin was completely stunned.

This far exceeded his expectations.

This wasn't just ordinary acceptance; this was cultivation using the village's full resources.

Yet, it wasn't over!

Ōnoki continued, "You may consult the secret archives where ninjutsu scrolls are stored at your leisure. If you wish to practice a specific technique, bring the scroll to me, and I will assign a jonin familiar with that ninjutsu to instruct you."

"Of course, you are still young, and some techniques are too dangerous for you. Don't find this old man too long-winded when the time comes."

Kyoshin took a deep breath. Having experienced the ninja world—specifically, having been beaten down by both Konoha and the Uchiha—he understood the weight of this gesture.

He said with a complex tone, "Thank you, Lord Tsuchikage."

Ōnoki waved his hand. "Go on, take a look at your new home."

"You are a child with self-discipline, and you don't need your training methods micromanaged, so I haven't assigned you a supervising jonin."

He didn't even have someone to monitor him?!

Holy crap, what else is there to say?

What is Konoha?

I really don't know them.

"From now on, I am an Iwa-nin, and that will never change." Kyoshin made his vow and turned to leave the office.

Outside the door, the sunlight was perfect.

He gripped the keys in his hand, feeling the weight of the forehead protector on his brow.

Iwagakure, Kyoshin Uchiha.

A new identity, a new beginning.

A detached house with a courtyard, a two-story stone building, with a dedicated training ground in the yard.

The interior was exactly as Ōnoki had described, fully furnished.

Bedroom, study, bathroom, kitchen.

The training room was equipped with various apparatus: wooden stakes, sandbags, and shuriken targets.

Kyoshin pushed open the second-floor window, looking out at the panoramic view of Iwagakure in the distance.

People came and went on the streets, and ninjas hurried by.

Shop signs glinted in the sunlight.