The wind blew, carrying away the scorched scent of burnt flesh, mixed with the lingering smell of gunpowder.
Madara stood there, his Rinnegan fixed fiercely on Yoru, the skin on his face twitching from rage.
The black cloth wrapped around his lower body had long been shredded by the blast's aftershock, exposing two skinny, bony old legs covered in dark spots.
His sparse leg hair was gray and dull, an eyesore just to look at.
"Dance?"
Yoru sneered, both hands tucked into his pockets as his leather shoes made wet slapping sounds against the scorched, waterlogged earth.
He circled Madara twice.
His gaze was no different from someone inspecting pork about to be fed into a meat grinder.
"Old man, looks like your dance steps can't keep up with the beat."
Yoru snapped his fingers.
"These past few years, the rules of the Shinobi World have changed owners."
Madara's temper flared.
When had he ever suffered such humiliation?
Even in the peak era of the Warring States, Hashirama Senju had to address him politely as Madara.
Who the hell was this brat?
A junior whose hair had barely grown in dared to shit on his head?!
"Seeking death!"
Madara clenched his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums, trailing down the corner of his mouth onto the black cloth.
He abruptly lowered his body, and that half-human, half-monster wreck of a body erupted with astonishing force.
"Shinra Tensei!"
He did not use Susanoo. He simply intended to use the Rinnegan's power to blow this brat away first and recover a little dignity.
A massive repulsive force swept across the ground.
Chunks of earth were forcibly thrown into the air, forming a semicircular wave of dirt.
An ordinary jonin would have already been crushed to their knees and begging