I Have a Pact with the Sage of Six Paths

Manji looked at the youth standing tall and proud before him, his eyes calm and his tone indifferent.

"A blade too sharp is easily broken; always leave room for change, and do not be too certain of yourself."

Upon hearing this, Indra immediately reined in his self-satisfaction, bowing respectfully with a nod, his bangs falling to veil his eyes. "This disciple will keep Master's teachings in mind."

Yet, the slight tension in his spine and the lingering brightness in his eyes could not hide the dismissal in his heart.

It was only natural for the eldest son to inherit the family legacy, especially since he had benefited the entire Ninja Sect with his hand-seal techniques. In terms of talent, merit, and bloodline, who else but him could hold the position of successor?

Asura was so naive and innocent that he even needed others to protect him from mountain wolves; how could he possibly manage the vast Ninja Sect?

Such thoughts lingered in his mind, deep-rooted, and Manji's airy words of "humility" were nothing more than wind passing by his ears.

Manji took in the flicker in his eyes, understanding everything.

The youth's pride had long since grown into a towering tree, nurtured by the adulation of others and his own smooth path. His current nod of agreement was merely a superficial gesture out of respect for their master-disciple bond.

Arrogant soldiers are destined for defeat; this has been true throughout history. While Indra's talent was indeed rare, this all-encompassing arrogance had already become his greatest weakness.

Manji shook his head slightly, the Six Paths Sword at his fingertips trembling with a faint hum, before his figure turned into a wisp of pale mist and quietly dissipated into the stillness of the Bamboo Forest.

Only Indra remained standing where he was.

When he reappeared, Manji was already inside a simple, elegant wooden hut.

The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a desk, a few bamboo scrolls, and a sleeping mat covered with an old quilt.

Hagoromo sat before the desk, his hair white and his face etched with deep, ravine-like wrinkles. Though his back remained straight, it could not hide the weariness that time had pressed upon him.

"Master, you have come."

Hagoromo rose slowly, his movements slightly sluggish, yet he maintained a respectful posture, bowing slightly.

"Mm."

Manji's gaze lingered on his aged face for a moment, his mind involuntarily drifting back to the way he looked when they first met.

Back then, Hagoromo's eyes were sharp and his spirit righteous; to protect those he loved, he had even dared to challenge his own mother.

Time had passed like a white horse galloping past a crack in the wall, and the youth of yesteryear had finally succumbed to the erosion of time, becoming the frail, elderly man before him.

Manji waved a hand. "It has been so many years; there is no need for such formalities."

Hagoromo sat back down, his fingertips tracing the cold bamboo scrolls on the desk. After a moment of silence, he spoke calmly: "Master, my time is near."

He said this lightly, as if discussing the weather, yet deep within his eyes lay a trace of attachment to the mortal world and concern for the Ninja Sect.

"The Ninja Sect is my life's work. I have pondered the matter of the successor for a long time, and I have concluded that only by passing it to one of my own blood can I truly be at ease."

"Indra and Asura are both my flesh and blood. I trust them more than outsiders to uphold the foundations of the Ninja Sect."

Manji smiled faintly to himself. In the end, he could not escape the obsession with "family rule." Even though Hagoromo had advocated for connection and kindness his entire life, in the end, he still viewed bloodline as the most reliable bond.

Manji did not point this out, merely looking into Hagoromo's aged eyes and saying slowly, "Do as you see fit."

He had not come this time to interfere with the choice of successor, but simply to see for himself whether this former disciple, despite his advanced age, still retained the power he once held.

Hagoromo seemed to heave a sigh of relief, or perhaps he had summoned great courage, as he rose slowly and bowed deeply to Manji, his forehead nearly touching the ground. "Master, after I pass, could you grant me one request?"

Manji raised a hand in a gesture of support, signaling him to rise. "Speak."

"You are an elder who has lived for countless years; you have always been able to distinguish right from wrong and are never muddled."

Hagoromo looked up, his eyes filled with earnestness.

"Though the Ninja Sect is prosperous now, the various nations of the world are gradually rising, and strife lies hidden in the shadows. I fear that Indra and Asura are young and inexperienced, and if the Ninja Sect encounters danger in the future, they will struggle to cope."

"At that time, I ask that you, Master, step in to restore order and crush all conspiracies."

Hagoromo spoke with the tone of a man entrusting his legacy, placing the entire future of the Ninja Sect into the hands of this transcendent Sage of Six Paths.

Manji watched his pious expression, his tone remaining flat and waveless. "I know. I have my own judgment."

Manji already had other plans in mind: the Ninja Sect appeared to be a religion promoting kindness, but in reality, it had long since become a political and military organization wielding power.

With the various nations of the world established, monarchs might believe in him—this ethereal Sage of Six Paths—because this faith could consolidate their rule, but they would never tolerate the existence of a Ninja Sect that held a massive army and exerted influence everywhere.

Who would allow another to sleep soundly beside their bed?

He had no affection for this Ninja Sect; the so-called "restoring order" was nothing more than a verbal evasion.

His goal had always been the Rinnegan; as for the rise and fall of the Ninja Sect, what did it have to do with him?

Hagoromo did not notice the coldness in his heart, assuming he had already agreed. A look of relief appeared on his face, and he bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Master."

"As for the matter of the successor, once I have made my decision, I will notify you immediately."

Manji nodded slightly, saying no more.

Two years passed in silence.

The Bamboo Forest of the Ninja Sect grew increasingly lush, the green stalks shooting upward to blot out the sky, while the two children of yesteryear had grown into handsome, dashing young men.

Indra wore ink-colored fitted robes, his posture as straight as a pine. The youthful innocence in his features had faded, replaced by a sharp, piercing edge.

He stood among the crowd with an inherent air of aloofness that kept others at a distance, his entire being wreathed in a calm yet icy aura.

Over the past two years, his exquisite mastery of hand seals and his peerless talent had made him the benchmark for all disciples of the Ninja Sect; wherever he went, he was met with gazes of awe.

He had matured significantly, but he had also grown much more heartless.

Asura, standing beside him, was a different story.

He wore simple light-gray cloth robes, his frame appearing slightly broader, and his face still carried a gentle smile, his eyes curved in a way that radiated approachability.

Yet, beneath this gentleness lay a sense of unease.

Compared to his brother's brilliant radiance, he always felt he fell short in every regard.

For the past two years, Hagoromo's health had been steadily declining, yet he had never ceased observing his two sons.

He watched the swift and decisive way Indra handled affairs, and saw him use precise techniques to resolve the Ninja Sect's dilemmas; he had to admit that his eldest son's abilities far exceeded those of ordinary men.

However, he also saw the cold severity Indra displayed when disciples made mistakes, and witnessed his autocratic nature, unwilling to listen to the opinions of others.

That deep-seated arrogance and ruthlessness were so like Kaguya of the past that they filled Hagoromo with a faint sense of unease.

As for Asura, he was always soft-hearted and compassionate, unable to bear seeing others suffer, and always seeking to resolve conflicts through reconciliation.

The disciples all loved this gentle second young master, but Hagoromo knew clearly that this indecisiveness could become a fatal weakness in times of chaos.

He often thought that if he could combine Indra's decisiveness with Asura's kindness, he would have the perfect successor.

But in this world, how could one have the best of both worlds?

On this day, the main hall of the Ninja Sect was buzzing with noise.

All the core disciples and elders had gathered here.

Sarutobi stood at the front of the disciples, his expression steady, his gaze sweeping over the two in the hall.

Hagoromo sat in the seat of honor; though his face was pale, his eyes remained clear.

He raised a hand to signal for silence, his hoarse yet powerful voice echoing through the hall: "I have summoned you all today to announce a matter of great importance."

Hagoromo's gaze slowly swept over his two sons below, pausing for a moment before continuing: "My lifespan is coming to an end, and the Ninja Sect cannot go a day without a leader."

"From this day forward, the successor will be chosen between Indra and Asura."

As his words fell, a low murmur of discussion erupted throughout the hall.

Most of the disciples looked surprised, yet they also felt it was only natural—after all, Indra's excellence was plain for all to see.

Indra stood where he was, his spine straightening even further. A glimmer of expected triumph flashed in his eyes, and a faint, imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He had long awaited this day; this position of successor was his to claim.

Asura, however, wore an expression of indifference, remaining as gentle as ever.

He did not care about being the successor of the Ninja Sect.

As long as everyone was well, he was content.

Ignoring the reactions of the crowd, Hagoromo slowly rose, picked up two scrolls from the desk, and handed them to Sarutobi at his side.

"These are the trials for the two of you."

"Inside these scrolls are the locations of two villages. You are each to go to one and resolve the village's problems in your own way. You shall return to report only when your task is complete."

Sarutobi handed the scrolls to Indra and Asura respectively.

Indra took his scroll, his fingertips brushing the cool bamboo skin. He was filled with confidence; with his abilities, settling the problems of a village would be a mere trifle.

Asura, however, held the scroll with a face full of hesitation. He looked up at Hagoromo, his voice tinged with helplessness and uncertainty: "Ah? Father, why must I be sent to compete for the position of successor?"

Asura paused, then added helplessly: "Brother is so excellent; whether in strength or the ability to handle affairs, he is far superior to me. It would be better to let Brother go and resolve it alone. I... I am afraid I will not do well."

These words came from the bottom of his heart.

In his mind, his brother would always be that unreachable existence, and all he could do was follow behind and try not to be a burden.

Indra glanced at him sideways, his expression indifferent, and said nothing.

Over the past two years, the rift between them had grown ever deeper. He could not stand Asura's indecisiveness, finding him too naive to accomplish anything great.

As for Asura, he did not like his brother's cold-heartedness, finding him too overbearing and lacking in human warmth.

Though they were brothers, they had grown increasingly distant, with almost no communication beyond the necessary greetings.