Training

"Hold this stance for an hour. If you dare move... Hmph!" Madara Uchiha said without expression, his cold eyes fixed on Qile.

At that moment, Qile was struggling to hold a wooden sword almost as tall as he was, keeping it raised in the middle of a downward swing.

"Madara Uchiha, you ungrateful bastard. No wonder you didn't get picked as First—you're just using your position to settle a personal grudge!" Qile muttered under his breath.

He knew perfectly well that Madara Uchiha was doing this to train him and make him stronger. But faced with training like this, he couldn't help grumbling a little.

It was just like parents who were always telling you to study hard. You understood their good intentions, but still didn't want to listen to them.

Studying was nowhere near as fun as playing...

But with Madara Uchiha's sharp eyes and keen senses, how could he fail to notice Qile muttering under his breath?

He hadn't actually heard what Qile was saying, but after spending the past two days with the boy, he could say for certain that nothing pleasant was coming out of his mouth.

"Another half hour," Madara Uchiha said coldly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Don't..." Qile panicked at once and hurried to defend himself.

But before he could finish...

Somehow, a long, slender whip had appeared in Madara's hand. He swung his arm, and the whip lashed toward Qile like a serpent.

With a sharp crack, the unexpected lash caught Qile off guard, making him bare his teeth in pain.

The pain made him suck in a breath, but now he didn't dare move at all. He even kept his mouth firmly shut, not making another sound.

Time passed, second by second. Qile stood there holding up the sword, his arms beginning to tremble uncontrollably. His hands shook even harder, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

At last, the long hour and a half was over. Just as Qile was eagerly hoping for a brief rest, Madara, who had been sitting behind him and leisurely savoring his tea, slowly spoke again:

"When I was your age... my father made me and ... stand perfectly still like this for a whole hour every day. After that, we had to swing our swords a hundred times."

"But when training was over, I saw the cold bodies of my clansmen being carried back from outside. So I added another hundred sword swings for myself. Oh? Looks like you've reached your limit. You can rest now."

At Madara's words, a stubborn glint suddenly appeared in Qile's exhausted eyes. He knew Madara was trying to provoke him, but he gritted his teeth and snapped, "It's just sword swings, Madara! You did two hundred a day back then, right? Hmph, I'm doing three hundred today! One day, I'll be stronger than you, and then I'll fight you." With that, Qile took a deep breath, forced down the ache in his body, and resolutely picked up the wooden sword beside him, swinging it with all his might.

Madara simply sat behind him, quietly sipping his tea. He said nothing, watching Qile begin to swing his sword with a calm, deep gaze.

Qile gripped the wooden sword tightly and swung it with all his strength, but his form was far from proper.

Madara didn't correct him, though. These first few days of sword practice were a test of willpower.

As long as Qile could grit his teeth and persevere, he would have taken the first step toward success. Whether his form was correct was something they could fix later, once formal training began.

As time went on, Qile's mind began to grow hazy.

Even so, deep down, he still had a stubborn drive to prove himself and refused to give up.

At the same time, he knew with absolute clarity that if he wanted to survive in the perilous Ninja World, he had to throw himself into harsh training with everything he had.

Only then could he find a way to survive the many dangers that would come one after another in the future.

And so Qile kept swinging the long sword in his hands. Beads of sweat poured down like rain, quickly soaking through his clothes and even blurring his vision.

Then, something strange happened—he seemed to suddenly enter an almost surreal state.

His body still felt utterly exhausted, but he could clearly sense that whenever his stamina neared its limit, a faintly cool energy would mysteriously well up inside him.

The mysterious energy raced wildly through his body like a horse that had bolted, bringing with it a strange and exhilarating sensation.

He didn't know if it was chakra, but he was lucky that this flowing energy kept him swinging his sword until now. Otherwise, he would have passed out long ago.

At that moment, Madara, standing behind him and watching him swing the sword without blinking, narrowed his long eyes slightly, disbelief showing in them.

Qile still hadn't fallen. This truly shocked Madara.

Madara had originally thought that, at Qile's young age, managing two hundred sword swings would already be impressive.

The Uchiha had determined through generations of experimentation that two hundred swings was the limit for a body Qile's age!

Yet, to Madara's utter surprise, the small figure before him showed a resilience and determination beyond anything he could have imagined, holding on until now.

Though astonished, Madara still didn't stop Qile, even when he saw the boy's sword form grow so warped from exhaustion that it was barely recognizable.

"Two hundred ninety-nine, three hundred, Madara! One more for the road! Three hundred and one."

At last, with a hoarse, furious shout, Qile summoned the last shred of strength in his body and managed to complete his final swing.

Immediately afterward, there was a heavy thud. Qile collapsed stiffly to the ground as if his backbone had been pulled out, then passed out once more.

Madara's gaze grew more complicated as he looked at Qile lying unconscious on the ground.

After a brief silence, Madara slowly gave an order: "Go find... Forget it. Prepare a medicinal bath."

Yeling, who had kept her head lowered and said nothing from the start, answered without hesitation when she heard the order. "Yes, Clan Leader!" Her tone was respectful and obedient, and she turned to leave.

But just then, Madara spoke again. "From now on, he is your only master."

Yeling had only taken a few steps when she heard him. Her body shuddered, and she stopped at once. A look of surprise crossed her face; she seemed taken aback by the sudden order.

But after only a moment's hesitation, she turned around and answered solemnly, "Yeling understands. Please rest assured, Clan Leader."

Only after Yeling had left did Madara slowly walk over to Qile. Qile was lying on the ground, his whole body drenched in sweat, his wet clothes clinging tightly to him.

Madara bent down and easily lifted Qile with one hand.

Then, without any unnecessary movement, he vanished from the spot with Qile, leaving behind an empty training ground as the only witness to what had just happened.