Wanting to Curl Up the Master's Body

Uchiha clan compound, central district.

In the vast courtyard, a youth, lazy to the extreme, lay on a rocking chair.

A gentle breeze brushed his face, causing several cherry blossom trees to sway, and the wind chimes hanging from their branches tinkled melodiously.

"This is what you call living. Going out to fight and kill—that's just asking for trouble."

Uchiha Yang slowly opened his eyes, the sleepiness still lingering within them, and stretched out with a yawn.

In his past life, he had been a corporate drone who died of overwork after being fed too much "inspirational" nonsense by his boss. After that, he transmigrated into this Warring States era of the ninja world, which was practically a death sentence.

Fortunately, the Uchiha clan still had decades before their eventual annihilation in the plot; he might just die of old age before then, so there was no need to worry about that problem at all.

"Yang, you're sunbathing again."

A youth appeared on the wall, looking at him with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"You know how it is. With you and your brother in the clan, I'm at ease. I just want to be an ordinary person and keep an eye on the compound for you both."

Uchiha Yang didn't care in the slightest; in fact, he took pride in being an ordinary person.

"You guys are out there risking your lives, isn't it all for the peace of the clan?"

"I'm enjoying the peace you provide, so your efforts haven't gone to waste."

Uchiha Yang spouted this twisted logic with such confidence that it actually sounded reasonable, leaving Uchiha Izuna momentarily speechless.

"I have to say, this chair really is comfortable. Coming here after a mission helps me relax quite a bit."

Uchiha Izuna jumped down beside him with a helpless expression, lay down on another chair, and let out a look of contentment.

A maid nearby, possessing a keen eye, had already brought over fruit and iced water, placing them on the table between the two.

"Hiss~~~"

Without even looking, Uchiha Izuna picked up a cup and took a sip, his features instantly contorting into a knot as the sourness made his mouth water uncontrollably.

Uchiha Yang, sipping his iced watermelon juice, burst into laughter at the sight.

"Forgot to tell you, that's iced lemonade. It's just a tiny bit sour."

"You guy, ptooey, ptooey, ptooey, ptooey."

Uchiha Izuna hurriedly set the lemonade aside, the sharp tang of lemon still lingering in his mouth.

"Speak up, then. You came to see me this time—is there something you need?"

Uchiha Yang set down his watermelon juice and leaned back into the rocking chair, squinting his eyes comfortably.

The only reason Uchiha Izuna knew him was because of their kinship; he was his cousin, and his older cousin was none other than Uchiha Madara.

His own biological uncle was Uchiha Tajima, which was the very reason he could stay in the Uchiha compound with peace of mind, never needing to go out and fight for his life.

When his older cousin wasn't fully developed, he relied on his uncle; once his older cousin grew up, he relied on his cousin.

Uchiha Tajima felt pity for the only bloodline his younger sister had left behind; after all, the Uchiha clan wasn't exactly hurting for one more combatant.

Raising him in the compound was harmless—one more person didn't make a difference, and one less wouldn't be missed.

Providing him with food and drink was, to the Uchiha, merely a drop in the bucket.

Uchiha Izuna sighed inwardly at these words, feeling that the inability to become a ninja had dealt too heavy a blow to his cousin.

Otherwise, given his cousin's intellect, his strength would definitely not be below his own.

Uchiha Izuna looked at him with a complex expression and, following what he had agreed upon with his older brother, spoke up.

"My brother says you can't keep going on like this. Even though you have people protecting you, having the power to protect yourself would be safer."

"Even if you don't become a ninja, becoming a samurai would give you another path."

"The clan's secret library has methods for samurai cultivation. As for weapons, don't worry—my brother is already collecting the best materials to forge one for you."

"He really doesn't want to see you continue to rot away like this."

Uchiha Madara truly cared for Uchiha Yang, and the relationship between the two was excellent.

Furthermore, Uchiha Madara had always assumed that Uchiha Yang had become this decadent because the loss of his parents and his inability to become a ninja had been too much for him to bear.

"Don't even think about it. I just want to spend my life in peace. I'm staying in the compound and not going out, so how could I possibly be in danger?"

Uchiha Yang quickly cut off Uchiha Izuna's attempt to continue.

Trying to lure me into becoming a samurai now? Next, they'll be trying to get me onto the battlefield. That would be a disaster.

In his past life, he had seen enough of this in the corporate world—these "big pictures" they painted, one after another, were endless; his fridge couldn't even hold all the leftovers.

"Alright, alright. I've said what I needed to say. That's it for now, I'm heading back."

Seeing that he was as stubborn as ever, Uchiha Izuna had no choice but to leave.

Uchiha Yang didn't let this little episode ruin his mood.

A samurai? Not even a dog would want to be one.

Besides, he still had the ten secret guards his parents had left behind protecting him in the shadows.

Among them, the captain who commanded the nine guards was an elite jonin possessing the three-tomoe Sharingan.

The other nine were merely ordinary chunin and jonin, all selected and raised from orphans of the war-torn era.

The Uchiha clan had been locked in constant conflict with the Senju scum for years, and with many innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, it was only natural for some of these orphans to be taken in and trained as loyal death squads.

With their parents dead, the object of these trained ninjas' loyalty naturally shifted to Uchiha Yang, the sole remaining bloodline of the two.

Holding this power in his hands, Uchiha Yang had even more reason to just slack off and lie flat.

So what if I'm slacking off?

My life is comfortable enough as it is.

So what if I'm lying flat?

Being able to lie flat is a skill in itself.

[Sharingan: Master, I've already touched the edge of the Two-Tomoe Sharingan. I will definitely grow stronger and bigger so that you can possess the Mangekyo Sharingan as soon as possible.]

[Brain: Guys, who gets this? Master is actually trying to corrupt and influence me with his slacking off. Ah, I feel like I have endless energy! Let's pull an all-nighter and put in some overtime to train tonight.]

[Fire Style: Currently studying nature transformation. If you don't work hard in your youth, you'll only have regrets in your old age. I'll strive to let Master use me as soon as possible.]

[Water Style: That damn Fire Style is secretly trying to outdo me.]

[Fire Style: I am not! You're talking nonsense, you're spouting lies!]

[Hands: To succeed, you must first go crazy. Only through training can one succeed. Who uses hand seals like a normal person? Just clap and unleash a grand technique! Let Master enjoy the thrill of unleashing a big move as soon as possible so he can finally stop slacking off.]

[Legs: My Shadowless Kick of Foshan has reached minor success. It will be completed soon, and then slaughtering everyone on the battlefield will be just around the corner.]

[Lightning Attribute: Master, don't be decadent! Pulse back to life with me—one, two, one, two, one, two!]

Uchiha Yang simply ignored these annoying fellows, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to lie on his rocking chair.

The only thing preventing him from lying flat now was his own body.

He didn't know if it was because he was too comfortable lying flat, but his body had actually started to develop a sense of self-awareness. It despised him for being too lazy, and so these guys had started popping up one by one.

Each one was as spirited as if they'd been fed stimulants, even more of a corporate slave than a corporate slave.

Their efforts looked exactly like the times his boss used to feed him motivational drivel in his past life.

Although he could control them, these guys would actually pull all-nighters and work overtime while he was trying to sleep.

Bastards! Didn't they know that working overtime could lead to sudden death?

Especially the brain—if you were to drop dead from overwork, I wouldn't just be skipping the "lying flat" stage; I'd be lying in a coffin.

The only silver lining was that the brain's overtime didn't affect him personally; otherwise, he would really have to be on guard against his own internal thieves.

But seeing them work so hard only reminded him of his past self.

The more this happened, the more he resisted, and the more determined he became to lie flat and slack off.

He wasn't a loser by nature; this body was an absolute genius, and fortunately, he had managed to hide that from everyone.

As long as he didn't make a move, no one would ever know he was a ninja, and all the efforts of these guys would be in vain.