The dark-red torrent of destruction completely dissipated.
Scalding steam and blackened sand blew away in the wind.
The figure clad in deep crimson armor had not moved so much as an inch.
Madara slowly raised his black leather-gloved hand and casually brushed a trace of ash from his shoulder guard.
His scarlet Sharingan swept coldly over Hiruzen Sarutobi, who was vomiting blood, and the allied remnants wearing looks of despair.
"Is this all the power you can muster?"
Madara's voice was not loud.
Yet it pierced every ear with suffocating arrogance.
"You are not even qualified to make me dance."
Half a second after the words fell.
Madara's figure suddenly blurred.
No hand seals, no flashy ninjutsu.
It was simply a burst of taijutsu refined to its absolute limit!
"Splat!"
A Sunagakure jonin charging at the front did not even have time to blink.
A leather-gloved palm had already pierced through his chest.
Madara expressionlessly pulled out his hand and seized the katana from the man's grip.
Like a tiger charging into a flock of sheep.
The crimson figure became a whirlwind of death amid the crowd.
Blade light flashed.
Severed limbs and warm blood shot into the sky.
The screams did not even make it through half a syllable before the merciless blade cut them short.
Too fast.
So fast that these battle-hardened elites could not even form hand seals to defend themselves.
The Sharingan's dynamic vision, paired with that tireless Impure World Reincarnation body, turned slaughter into a cruel art.
"Stop him!"
Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes nearly split open as he gripped the Adamantine Staff with both hands.
His aged body erupted with its last reserves of chakra as he smashed down at the crimson figure.
"Clang!"
Sparks flew everywhere.
With one hand, Madara used the ordinary katana he