Vengeance for Today's Grudge!

The entrance to the village was already crowded with people.

The elderly, women, and children all stood there quietly, waiting for their loved ones to come home.

When the crowd saw the four stretchers covered with white sheets, a few suppressed sobs rang out, but no one cried out loud.

The pride of the Uchiha wouldn't allow them to lose their composure in public.

Those clenched fists, those reddened eyes, those tightly bitten lips—all silently spoke of sorrow.

Xiaoye's grandmother Earth Flow over shakily, stretched out her withered hand, and gently stroked her granddaughter's face again and again, but did not say a word.

Natsu stood on the high platform at the entrance of the village, looking down at his people. The last rays of the setting sun fell on him, turning his figure golden.

He didn't offer many words of comfort; the Uchiha didn't need cheap words of comfort.

"Today, we lost four family members." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears. "They fought and died here to protect our home."

"I won't offer any words of condolence. I'll only say one thing—this grudge will be avenged."

"The Navy owes us four lives, and I will make them pay back tenfold, a hundredfold."

He raised his hand, pointing towards the sea, a crimson light surging in his eyes. "Starting tomorrow, the entire tribe will enter a state of highest alert."

Everyone, regardless of age or gender, participated in the Haki training.

Within six months, I will ensure that every member of the Uchiha clan masters Armament Haki and Observation Haki.

"I'll let the entire ocean know what happens when you mess with the Uchiha Clan."

The clansmen below the stage raised their heads one by one, their Sharingan lighting up in the Dusk.

The suppressed sorrow now transformed into burning anger and resolve.

The pain of losing loved ones did not break them; instead, it brought them closer together.

Night gradually enveloped Origin Island. In the square of the clan's territory, four huge bonfires were lit.

According to Uchiha tradition, clansmen who die in battle will return to nature in flames, and their souls will forever protect this land.

Natsu stood by the campfire, watching the flickering flames, clutching the Ace Mushi that Den Den Mushi had left behind.

The Kakkō reflected on his face, half bright and half dark.

The Navy will not let this go easily, and the World Government will not let them off so easily either.

With the shadow of the Summit War still looming ahead, Blackbeard's ambitions are quietly growing.

The road ahead is destined to be full of thorns.

But he wasn't afraid.

He had the entire Uchiha Clan standing behind him.

As long as these clansmen are still alive, as long as the flame of the Uchiha clan has not been extinguished, he is confident that he can lead them to carve out a world that belongs to the Uchiha on this vast ocean.

The bonfire burned brighter and brighter, illuminating the entire clan territory and the unwavering light in the eyes of every Uchiha clansman.

The next morning, the shouts of battle from the Training Ground started a full hour earlier than usual.

The wooden cane that Uchiha Jian used on a daily basis was still leaning against a wooden stake by the Training Ground, with deep marks left on the cane from his years of gripping it.

But Uncle Jian, who used to chase after lazy kids with a wooden cane, cursing and swearing but always secretly slipping them rice balls, will never come back.

A dozen or so teenagers stood in the center of the Training Ground, clutching their unsharpened Ninja Blade tightly, their lips pursed white.

They were all Uncle Jian's most prized students, the oldest being only fourteen years old and the youngest just ten.

Yesterday, when they carried Uncle Jian's stretcher past the village entrance, they stood in the crowd. No one cried; they just stared intently at the white cloth covering the Gunbai, their fists clenched so tightly that their knuckles bled.

"Drink!"

Someone shouted first, and more than a dozen Ninja Blade were swung out simultaneously.

The wind howled through the morning air, carrying a ferocity beyond its years.

They practiced the Uchiha Style Iaijutsu Uncle Jian had taught them over and over again. Every movement was so precise that it looked as if it had been carved. Sweat slid down their cheeks and dripped into the soil under their feet, leaving small wet marks.

Suddenly, the boy in the front row named Uchiha Rin stopped moving abruptly.

His hand gripping the knife trembled violently, and his eyes widened abruptly. A crimson dot slowly emerged in his originally dark pupils, swirling and transforming into a clear One Tomoe.

Then, the second, the third... the crimson Sharingan lit up one after another in the morning sunlight, like burning sparks.

"Two Tomoe! It's Two Tomoe!"

A low gasp rippled through the crowd.

At the end of the line, two boys stood with two Tomoe) spinning rapidly in the crimson depths of their eyes.

They were Uncle Jian's two most valued disciples. Yesterday, in order to cover their retreat, Uncle Jian took a heavy punch from a Rear Admiral with Armament Haki, coughing up blood on the spot, but still smiled and pushed them to safety.

Fugaku stood on the high platform of the Training Ground, looking down at the pairs of Sharingan that were lighting up, his fingers unconsciously tightening.

He had witnessed the Sharingan being activated countless times, but never before had it made his heart clench as tightly as it did today.

The Sharingan is the glory of the Uchiha, but behind this glory lies unforgettable pain.

Every time the Tomoe turns, it signifies a loss, a heartbreak.

Uncle Qi leaned against a pillar, stroking Uncle Jian's broken Ninja Blade in his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing a few times.

He looked at the bloodshot in the children's eyes, at the hatred and determination in their eyes as they brandished their knives, and finally just let out a long sigh.

It's not just these children.

Many members of the clan who had gone on missions and shared drinks with Uncle Jian also awakened their Sharingan overnight.

Some were old partners who had worked with Uncle Jian for over a decade, while others were younger generations who had been saved by Uncle Jian.

Sadness and anger spread like wildfire through the tribe, eventually transforming into the crimson light in their eyes.

There was no one organizing it, no one urging it on.

Everyone came to the Training Ground on their own initiative.

The elderly practiced basic Taijutsu, the young people practiced gathering their Haki in front of wooden stakes, and the children repeated every move that Uncle Jian had taught them over and over again.

The entire territory was shrouded in a tense and resolute atmosphere, with everyone desperately trying to become stronger and grasp the power that could protect themselves and their families.

Natsu did not go to the Training Ground.

He came alone to the beach from yesterday.

The setting sun was slowly sinking into the sea, dyeing the sky a deep orange-red.

The waves crashed against the beach again and again, washing away the remaining bloodstains, but not the faint smell of blood in the air.