Negotiation

To be honest, this matter did not mean much to Mizuki. After all, it was basically impossible for him to transplant a Rinnegan, much less become the Ten-Tails' Jinchuriki.

The Ten-Tails' resurrection was inevitable. Mizuki had already done enough by now; presumably, when the final battle came, the Ten-Tails' Jinchuriki would be considerably weaker.

Nearly all preparations were complete. All that remained was to see who would emerge victorious in the end.

Still, the Rinnegan had its uses—not for its combat power, but for its inseparable bloodline-based connection to the Ten-Tails. At a critical moment, it might prove useful.

Vortices formed by hazy spatial turbulence rose and fell throughout Mizuki's extended senses. After an unknown amount of time, a colossal shadow appeared before him.

"Is this the Ten-Tails' chakra?"

It was the strongest chakra Mizuki had ever sensed in his life. Its quantity was beyond estimation, and it carried an oppressive force that made resistance seem utterly impossible.

It was like a towering wall whose summit could not be seen even when one looked up. Standing at its base, the helplessness of gazing toward its peak seeped out from the depths of his soul. This suppression on a spiritual level was like that of a god who ruled over all things.

The stronger the shinobi, the more keenly they could feel its terror. Those with powerful souls and especially sensitive spiritual abilities were affected even more severely.

Ignorance bred fearlessness. Once one possessed eyes capable of seeing through all things, one could better perceive that despairing terror.

At this moment, Mizuki deeply understood the so-called surging torrent of history. The Ten-Tails, manifested from the authority the God Tree used to refine the shinobi world—what kind of despair-inducing existence was it?

The Ten-Tails' power was absolutely not as simple as the