Night of the Clan Annihilation

Seeing the situation fall into a stalemate, Danzo's expression grew darker. He knew that although these daimyo seemed to support the Hokage, what they valued deep down was Konoha's stability. Once his actions were defined as breaking the rules, they would never stand on his side.

"Hmph. A pack of shortsighted fools." Danzo gave a low, cold snort, the chill in his single eye sweeping over everyone present. "When Konoha truly falls into crisis because of this Duanmu of unknown origin, I hope you can all remain this calm."

With that, he slammed a hand down on the table, rose, and made to leave.

"Danzo!" Hiruzen Sarutobi shouted sternly, his aged face full of disappointment. "Do you think you can avoid responsibility like this? Root is Konoha's blade, not your personal tool! What happened today must be explained to every Konoha ninja!"

Danzo's steps paused, but he did not look back. He only left behind one cold sentence. "Everything I have done has been for Konoha. As for an explanation... wait until I eliminate the threat!" Before his voice had even faded, his figure had already vanished beyond the doors of the council hall, leaving only the heavy silence of the room and Hiruzen Sarutobi's deep sigh.

Not long after Danzo left, the Anbu found Hiruzen Sarutobi and reported that someone seemed to have infiltrated the village from outside the barrier. Seeing this, several daimyo from the Land of Fire also walked out in silence.

Hearing those words, Hiruzen Sarutobi's already deeply wrinkled brows knitted even tighter, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the First Hokage figurine on the tabletop.

He knew very well that an infiltrator appearing the moment Danzo left was no coincidence. Was Danzo's Root secretly stirring up trouble, trying to use an external threat to divert attention? Or had that mysterious man named Duanmu truly begun to act? Or had some other ninja village come to spy while Konoha was in internal chaos?

Countless possibilities flashed through his mind at high speed, and any one of them could drag Konoha into an even deeper whirlpool. He slowly raised his head, his cloudy yet still sharp gaze sweeping over the several higher-ups present, and said in a deep voice, "Strengthen security throughout the village immediately, especially around the Hokage Building and the place where Duanmu is being held. Deploy all Anbu. You must find out the infiltrator's identity and purpose. Remember, capture them alive if possible. I want to know exactly who is causing trouble for Konoha at a time like this!"

After saying that, he leaned back wearily in his chair, the heavy sense of responsibility in his heart pressing down on him until he could barely breathe. Konoha, this great tree, seemed to be about to face an unprecedented storm.

The one who had infiltrated was none other than Obito. At this moment, he was wearing a mask, carrying a longsword, and moving under the name of Madara Uchiha. But he had been discovered by Itachi.

Itachi had already begun considering the plan to exterminate the Uchiha clan, so he needed Obito's help.

"Hey." Itachi called out to Obito from behind.

Obito's hand tightened suddenly around the hilt of his sword, and a trace of vigilance flashed through the single eye beneath his mask.

He slowly turned around, his black robe cutting a cold arc through the night wind, his hoarse voice like sandpaper scraping. "Uchiha brat, you're much sharper than those old fools."

Itachi stood in the shadows, his crimson Sharingan glowing faintly in the darkness. There was no expression on his face, as though he were merely stating something irrelevant. "Konoha's Anbu have already begun hunting you. There's still time to leave now."

His voice was terrifyingly calm, without the slightest emotional fluctuation. Only his tightly clenched fists betrayed the struggle inside him.

"Hmph. Just a rabble." Obito gave a cold snort, a trace of disdain flashing through the single eye beneath the mask. "Do you think I came here for sightseeing? Itachi Uchiha, I know what you're thinking. Those eyes of yours saw through your clan's stupidity and Konoha's hypocrisy long ago, didn't they?"

Itachi's pupils shrank slightly, and his Sharingan turned silently in his eye sockets as he watched the mysterious man before him who called himself "Madara" with caution. He could feel the bottomless dark power radiating from the other party, as well as a kind of... despair that seemed born from the same suffering.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Itachi's voice remained icy, but his clenched fists betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

"Oh? Is that so?" Obito took a step forward, and the pressure around him seemed to make even the air solidify. "The Uchiha coup plan—who do you think you can hide it from? Konoha's higher-ups have long regarded you as a thorn in their side, while your clansmen are still immersed in so-called 'glory,' dreaming sweet dreams of overthrowing the Hokage's rule. Truly laughable."

He paused, his single eye locked tightly on Itachi. "You're a smart man, Itachi. You should understand that whether this coup succeeds or fails, the Uchiha clan cannot escape destruction. You should know what I'm here for. So, you came to cooperate with me."

Itachi did not answer, as though silently admitting it...

Duanmu lay on the hospital bed. By now, Itachi should have met Obito.

For the sake of the village's peace, Itachi needed it. Obito needed a large number of Sharingan. And so the two hit it off immediately, reaching that cruel agreement.

Although Duanmu knew the plot, he was powerless to stop any of it from happening.

Perhaps he could also benefit from this page? The thought suddenly surfaced in Duanmu's mind.

He could take advantage of the night of the massacre to get his hands on the Uchiha's secret techniques, or perhaps one or two Sharingan.

At that thought, Duanmu's heart began pounding uncontrollably, and an indescribable heat spread from the depths of his heart through every limb and bone.

It was feasible, but before that, he had to recover as quickly as possible.

The night of the massacre took place with Hiruzen Sarutobi's tacit approval, so that night, all of Konoha's security forces were transferred away. Even several of the Anbu stationed around Duanmu were pulled away. He sensed this and immediately understood that the night of the massacre had arrived.

Duanmu used the Clone Technique to fool the several Anbu guarding him, then quietly slipped out of the hospital himself.

He moved quickly through the darkness, doing his best to avoid the patrolling ninja.

The Uchiha clan compound was located in the southwest corner of Konoha Village. There stood a towering stone wall bearing the clan crest, usually carrying a stern majesty that warned strangers to keep away. But at this moment, it was filled with an abnormal, deathly silence.

The closer he got, the faster Duanmu's heart beat, and sweat began to gather in his palms. He knew that after tonight, this once-glorious great clan would completely disappear from Konoha.

He carefully bypassed the guards at the entrance to the compound—those guards were clearly distracted. Perhaps they had also sensed something, but simply refused to believe it.

After successfully infiltrating, Duanmu hid himself and quietly waited for the massacre to begin.

"Who's there?!" A guard's shout rang out from the entrance of the compound. Duanmu knew that Obito had come in.

As a short scream tore through the silent night sky, like a spark igniting a fuse, it instantly detonated the bloodshed hidden in the darkness.

Duanmu tightly covered his mouth and nose, forcing himself to calm down. He could hear the crisp clash of weapons, the muffled groans of ninja before death, and a certain... hair-raising sound, like clothing being cut open by a sharp blade and then soaked through with liquid.

He curled up behind a dense thicket of bushes. Through the gaps between the leaves, he could only see vague black figures moving rapidly in the distance, each flicker accompanied by the end of a life.

That was Obito. Like an asura from hell, he used the longsword in his hand to mercilessly harvest the lives of the Uchiha clansmen. Occasionally, a few weak Great Fireball Techniques or shuriken would cut through the night sky, but they seemed so pale and powerless, and were soon swallowed by even deeper darkness.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that moment, every second like being fried in a pan of oil. Duanmu's heart pounded wildly, almost bursting from his chest.

He saw several panicked Uchiha clansmen attempt to resist, their Sharingan lighting up crimson in the darkness. That was their final struggle in despair.

But before Obito's overwhelming power and bizarre space-time ninjutsu, their resistance seemed so futile. A young clansman had just activated his three-tomoe Sharingan and had not even had time to use any ninjutsu before a sudden black energy pierced through his chest. The light in his eyes quickly dimmed, and his body collapsed limply to the ground.

Duanmu's fingers dug deeply into his palm, the pain keeping him clear-headed. He kept telling himself that this was an inevitability of the plot, that he was powerless to change it, and that he had only one purpose in coming here—to obtain what he needed amid the chaos. His gaze searched the depths of the compound, looking for places where secret technique scrolls might be stored, or... those Sharingan that had just lost their owners.

Suddenly, a rush of hurried footsteps approached from afar, accompanied by heavy panting. Duanmu immediately held his breath and shrank his body even tighter.

He saw a middle-aged Uchiha clansman covered in blood stagger over. His left arm was already gone, and blood gushed from the wound, dyeing half his body red.

His Sharingan had lost focus. Clearly, he was already at his limit. He seemed to want to seek help somewhere, but after running only a few steps, he pitched headfirst to the ground and never got up again.

Duanmu's gaze fell on those eyes of his that had not yet fully closed. Three-tomoe Sharingan. Although it was not Mangekyo, to him right now, it was still an extremely tempting power.