Class dismissed!

Class dismissed! In the serene Bamboo Forest, the aftermath of the battle sent bamboo leaves rustling to the ground, blanketing the earth in shades of green and yellow.

Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo lay sprawled amidst the fallen leaves, his clothes in tatters and his chakra in total disarray. He was so battered that he lacked even the strength to lift a hand.

Manji stood before him with his hands behind his back. His robes were pristine, and his breathing was as steady as if the earth-shattering battle that had just occurred were nothing more than a dream.

"Hagoromo, do you have anything left to say?"

Manji looked down at Hagoromo, his tone calm and ripple-free, revealing neither joy nor anger.

Hagoromo's cracked lips parted slightly. He spoke weakly but with stubborn persistence, his voice thick with an unresolvable confusion: "Teacher, I don't understand..."

"Why did you help Indra? Who exactly is Indra to you? That unique method of performing Hand Seals—did you teach it to him yourself?"

Hagoromo looked up at Manji, his clouded eyes filled with bewilderment and a desperate need for answers.

Manji did not deny it; he merely nodded faintly, his tone indifferent: "Yes. The reason I helped Indra is that Indra is my disciple."

"Am I not your disciple as well?"

"I am also a student you treated with genuine care! And Asura is your grand-disciple!"

Hagoromo's voice rose sharply, laced with a hint of obstinacy.

He wasn't truly jealous; he simply could not fathom how, after centuries of companionship between master and student, Indra—who had only followed the master for a decade—could warrant such personal intervention from this unfathomable old man.

Was it truly only the crying child who received the extra sugar?

He wanted to know what possible reason could drive his teacher to take up arms against him.

At these words, a flicker of imperceptible hesitation crossed Manji's face.

He had lived for so many long years, and the disciples he had taken were countless: Hagoromo, Gamamaru, Fukasaku, Shima, and even the Nine Tailed Beasts... He had treated every one of them with sincerity. In his heart, these disciples were all clever and endearing, and he had never favored one over the other; for a moment, he couldn't even say who he favored most.

There were no treacherous ministers here, only loyal ones!

Seeing Manji's silence, Hagoromo forced himself to speak again, asking the question that weighed most heavily on his heart:

"Teacher, what will you do now? Do you truly intend to help Indra seize control of the Ninja Sect? Or..."

"I will not help Indra seize the Ninja Sect."

Manji cut him off directly, his tone remaining flat.

"Indra's line of thinking is too extreme, and his temperament is too immature. He does not understand the true essence of the Ninja Sect's survival. If he were to succeed as the head of the Ninja Sect, it would only lead to a terrifying, centralized, and despotic rule that would bring chaos to the world."

Regarding Indra, he had merely acted out of the bond of master and student, combined with certain considerations of interest, to ensure his survival.

Having lived for thousands of years, his perspective had long since transcended the mundane. He saw further than anyone else and naturally understood that Indra's path of tyranny and isolation was a dead end; he would never allow him to run wild.

"So, Teacher, you knew all along..."

Hagoromo let out a bitter laugh upon hearing this.

He had been anxious and uneasy, fearing that his teacher intended to join forces with Indra to rule the world. Only now did he realize that his worries had been entirely misplaced.

Manji looked at him and spoke slowly, his voice carrying the depth and clarity of one who had weathered the ages: "Teacher, I... know far more than you could ever imagine..."

The bitterness at the corners of Hagoromo's mouth deepened, his clouded eyes filled with the confusion of a lifetime. Supporting his broken body, he asked softly:

"Teacher, what is the truly correct philosophy? Is the Ninja Sect I poured my heart and soul into creating... right or wrong?"

Manji crouched down.

When a person is near death, their words are sincere. Since Hagoromo asked with such earnestness, he, as the teacher, would answer with equal gravity.

Manji plucked a falling bamboo leaf with his fingertips, his gaze drifting into the depths of the Bamboo Forest. His voice was slow and heavy, carrying a clarity that had traversed a thousand years:

"Hagoromo, from the very beginning, you mistook 'the only way' for 'the correct way'."

"There has never been an absolutely correct philosophy in this world. Just as heaven and earth are divided into yin and yang, and the sun and moon into day and night, Indra's aloof sharpness is a path, and Asura's gentle tolerance is also a path."

"You were obsessed with distinguishing right from wrong, obsessed with forcing the Ninja Sect to follow a single, fixed road. That in itself was where you lost your way."

"You ask me if the Ninja Sect is right?"

"Your original intention was never wrong."

"You saw the strife in the world and sought to connect hearts through chakra, to resolve hatred through bonds. That is the truest meaning of the Ninja Sect—"

"It is not a tool for rule, nor a shackle for inheritance, but a bridge connecting different people, different thoughts, and different paths."

Hagoromo's pupils trembled as he listened, stunned.

"You feel lost because you wanted everyone to walk the same path, wanting the Ninja Sect to become a perfect, flawless set of rules."

"But the living beings of this world are myriad. Some are like Indra, protecting through power; others are like Asura, coexisting through benevolence. No one is required to replicate the way another lives."

"Who can guarantee that everything should be the same?"

"The truly correct philosophy is never a single answer, but 'tolerance'."

"The true essence of the Ninja Sect is not to select a perfect successor, but to ensure that everyone walking the path of the ninja can hold onto their original intention—not to bully the weak, not to abandon their bonds, and not to turn power into a blade, but to use it only as a shield for protection."

Manji released his hand, and the bamboo leaf drifted away on the wind, landing in Hagoromo's palm:

"You founded the Ninja Sect to stop war, not to dictate rules; to connect hearts, not to dominate."

As long as you hold fast to this original intention, the Ninja Sect will always be in the right.

As for the right or wrong of your philosophy, leave it to time, leave it to the masses; there is no need for you alone to cling to such bitter obsession.

In short, future generations will have their own blessings; trust in the wisdom of those who come after!

Manji said, feeling a sense of relief.

Hagoromo gazed at the bamboo leaf in his palm, then looked into Manji's indifferent eyes. The confusion that had weighed on him for a century vanished in an instant, his heart suddenly clear, and a glimmer of lucidity finally surfaced in his clouded eyes.

Trust in the wisdom of future generations... wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

Hagoromo muttered to himself.

Cough, cough, cough, Teacher, this Bamboo Forest seems to be the place where you and Mother fought back then...

Hagoromo suddenly laughed.

Hearing this, Manji looked at the Bamboo Forest, a sigh flashing through his eyes: Indeed, after all this time, I have circled back to this Bamboo Forest.

The Bamboo Forest is still the same Bamboo Forest as it was back then.

It is just that many things and people have changed, generation after generation.

Hagoromo nodded gently, revealing a relieved smile: Thank you for teaching me this final lesson in your capacity as my teacher. I almost killed my own children; whether it be Indra or Asura, they are both my good sons.

Whether it be the world or the Ninja Sect, let us leave it to those who come after!

Seeing Hagoromo at peace, Manji smiled slightly.

Alright, class dismissed.

Having said that, Manji turned his back, intending to leave.

Wait, Teacher!

Hagoromo suddenly called out to stop Manji.

Teacher, my days are numbered...

My Rinnegan might be of some use to you; consider it a gift from your disciple.

Hagoromo closed his eyes and said softly.

Manji's expression tightened, and his figure paused.

Damn it, I was so busy acting cool and preaching grand principles that I almost forgot the main point!

Since you insist...

Manji clasped his hands behind his back.

I'll say it again:

I won't be standing on ceremony!