That Night, Indra Pondered for a Long Time...

Indra's face was cold as frost. With a furious snort, he flicked his sleeves and turned to leave.

A gust of wind swept across the floor as he strode out of the hall, his figure devoid of any lingering attachment. His proud, resolute back vanished behind the pillars in an instant.

Inside the great hall, Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo slowly furrowed his brows.

His withered fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk, a flicker of complexity crossing his eyes before settling into absolute certainty.

"It seems my choice was the right one."

Hagoromo whispered to himself.

He had not expected his eldest son to be so paranoid, yet it was precisely this moment of volatility that convinced him his decision was correct.

Indra possessed peerless talent and had used his power to forge the techniques of the Ninja Sect and unite the clan, yet his heart held only a thirst for power and conquest, devoid of any bonds or compassion.

If he were to entrust the Ninja Sect to him, this sanctuary, which carried the original intent of peace, would sooner or later be forged into a blade of war to sweep across the world, plunging humanity back into the flames of conflict.

Once the thought was set, he made his decision.

Hagoromo raised his eyes, his gaze falling upon Asura, who stood with a sturdy frame and gentle features.

"Asura, from this day forth, you are the legitimate successor of the Ninja Sect!"

Hagoromo's steady, majestic voice resonated throughout the hall.

The announcement fell like a thunderclap. Every gaze in the hall converged upon Asura, filled with anticipation, anxiety, and confusion.

Asura froze, his gentle eyes wide with shock, followed by a surge of complex emotions too deep to unravel.

He had followed his brother since childhood, wishing only to protect the Ninja Sect and assist his father, and later to support his brother once he took the mantle. He had never harbored any desire for power. Now, thrust into the spotlight, he felt completely at a loss, his fingertips curling slightly.

"Sigh..."

Hagoromo took in his hesitation, letting out a soft sigh in his heart.

Indecision—this personality was exactly like his own in his youth.

Back when his mother Kaguya was ravaging the world, he had still harbored feelings of filial piety, turning a blind eye to her atrocities.

It was not until Haori died tragically at his mother's cruel hands that all warmth and hesitation vanished, and he finally killed his own mother with his own hands.

Hagoromo composed himself, his voice suddenly heavy, each word striking Asura's heart like a hammer: "Asura, you bear the heavy responsibility of the Ninja Sect's survival. You must never be indecisive again!"

"Being soft-hearted and hesitant will only harm the clansmen who trust you and destroy the very foundation of the Ninja Sect!"

Asura shuddered at these words. Seeing his father's grave expression and catching the expectant gazes of the clansmen, his chaotic thoughts suddenly settled.

Asura took a deep breath and nodded heavily.

"Father, I understand. I will never let everyone down, and I will never let the Ninja Sect go astray!"

A firm resolve finally ignited in Asura's eyes.

The night was like ink, spilling over the mountains, and a cold wind swept through the desolate valley, carrying withered branches.

Inside a hidden cave, there was no light, save for a crude candle flickering weakly against the cave wall.

Indra sat slumped on a stone throne in the center of the cave, his crimson Three-Tomoe Sharingan glaring fixedly ahead.

"Why!? Why!?"

Indra suddenly threw his head back and roared, his voice filled with such resentment and unwillingness that loose stones fell from the cave ceiling.

He was the eldest son of Ōtsutsuki, a natural prodigy, the creator of the Ninja Sect's techniques, the one who had single-handedly led the sect to prosperity!

He had poured his heart and blood into building a powerful Ninja Sect, only to be discarded by his father like a worn-out shoe, while the position of leader was handed to Asura, who spoke only of empty bonds and lacked any edge!

He would never admit he had lost—not even a little!

He had not lost because of his strength, his talent, or his dedication to the Ninja Sect; he had lost only because of his father's blatant, biased favoritism!

It was Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo, this so-called father, who had favored Asura and erased every bit of his hard work!

That man was no father to him.

He was merely his biological sire.

Indra pressed a hand to his forehead, veins bulging at his temples. The candlelight flickered across his twisted features, making his Three-Tomoe Sharingan appear even more crimson and terrifying.

Outside the cave, the night was deep and silent, with only his heavy, ragged breathing echoing through the cavern.

That night, he sat motionless on the stone throne, tossing and turning in his mind, pondering for a long time as he replayed half a lifetime of sacrifice and devotion.

He had refined chakra and spread the art of hand seals, allowing the Ninja Sect to stand firm and strike fear into the world—was all that effort to end in such a result?

He could not accept it! He was so unwilling!

"I, Indra... what am I to do now..."

Indra muttered to himself, his voice hollow and desperate.

Slowly, he raised a trembling hand, his fingertips gently brushing against his burning pupils, touching the Three-Tomoe Sharingan that represented supreme power.

The moment those icy fingertips collided with his burning pupils!

An extreme surge of violence and killing intent erupted from the depths of his heart, sweeping away all resentment and agony!

What to do?

Only kill!

Nothing but kill!

Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Only through absolute power could he reclaim everything that should have been his!

Indra surged to his feet, his chakra erupting like a tsunami; the violent energy swept through the cave, instantly extinguishing the candlelight.

Deep purple-blue chakra gushed from his body, condensing layer by layer into a massive skeletal frame, armor, arms, and a giant blade that took shape with a roar, the terrifying pressure sweeping across the valley and making the earth tremble in fear.

The colossal Susanoo stood in the night, like a demon god descended to earth. Indra stood at its brow, his scarlet eyes sweeping toward the distant Ninja Sect main hall, his voice cold and resolute, echoing through the night sky:

"If that is the case, then I shall seize power by force!!!"

On the other side, in a quiet chamber deep within the Ninja Sect.

This was the place where Hagoromo usually retreated for meditation, now serving as a secret location for a private conversation between father and son.

Hagoromo dismissed all attendants, leaving only himself and Asura in the vast, silent room.

Hagoromo raised his eyes to look at Asura, whose expression still carried a hint of trepidation.

"Asura, I intend to transfer all of my life's chakra and senjutsu to you. Only in this way can you possess the power to contend with Indra."

Hagoromo's Rinnegan rippled with pale purple waves as he spoke with earnest gravity.

"Father!"

Asura looked up abruptly, his eyes filled with shock. He had just started to speak when Hagoromo raised a hand to stop him.

"Indra has long been consumed by obsession and malice, falling into the path of demons. The threat he poses to the Ninja Sect is imminent."

Hagoromo's voice carried a trace of exhaustion.

"My lifespan is nearing its end. If, after I pass, Indra launches a brutal assault on the Ninja Sect, remember: if you cannot resolve it, you must contact Mount Myōboku immediately and find our grandmaster, the Sage of Six Paths. Only if he intervenes can the chaos caused by Indra be thoroughly quelled."

Hearing this, Asura's expression became incredibly complex. His throat bobbed, but for a long time, he could not utter a single word.

He had never imagined that brothers, once so close, would reach the point of drawing weapons against each other in a fight to the death, nor had he imagined that his father would place such a heavy mission entirely upon his shoulders.

At the very moment he had yet to recover his senses.