The Security Force's Gaze

Lin Feng followed behind Jiechuan Uchiha, captain of the Uchiha Security Force.

The moment they stepped out through the clan compound gates, the morning sunlight spilled across Konoha's streets.

The shops lining both sides of the street had already opened, and villagers heading out early passed by in twos and threes.

Yet there was an indescribable sense of oppression in the air.

Lin Feng frowned slightly, his peripheral vision sweeping over the roadside.

Several Uchiha clan members had gathered outside a dango shop, talking quietly among themselves in hushed voices.

He vaguely caught a few words—"Hokage," "oppression," "can't endure this any longer."

Captain Jiechuan glanced back at him, said nothing, and continued forward.

Lin Feng withdrew his gaze and kept close to the group.

The two ordinary Security Force members walking behind them also remained silent, though their faces carried gloomy expressions.

They reached the entrance to the commercial street.

The crowds gradually thickened.

A farmwoman carrying baskets of vegetables passed by. When she saw the Uchiha Security Force, she froze for a moment before hurriedly lowering her head and walking away.

Lin Feng noticed the evasiveness in her eyes.

The stall owner nearby also silently looked away, pretending to arrange his merchandise.

This sense of alienation was completely different from the Uchiha of his previous-life memories, who had been praised as the "strongest ninja clan."

He remembered the outline's opening—the patrol had only just left the clan compound and stepped onto Konoha's streets when the discussions of those around them had already let him feel the tense atmosphere.

Now, following Captain Jiechuan's footsteps, he crossed the commercial street toward the blacksmith's shop.

Just then.

An angry shout came from ahead.

"Captain Jiechuan!"

A broad-shouldered Uchiha blacksmith rushed out of his shop, still clutching an unfinished kunai in his hand, his face filled with fury.

"Tell me this—the Hokage's side wants to cut patrol funding again! Our Uchiha Security Force is practically becoming decoration! The young people in the clan want to make trouble, and I support them!"

The blacksmith's voice was loud, and passing villagers all turned to look.

Lin Feng paused, his gaze falling on the anger on the blacksmith's face.

Jiechuan Uchiha frowned slightly and sighed. "Blacksmith, don't talk about this in the street. The patrol comes first."

But the blacksmith refused to let it go. "Comes first? The clan is practically being trampled underfoot, and you're still talking about patrols! Do you know how much our shop made this month? Thirty percent less than last month! Thirty percent! The Hokage's policies are aimed right at us!"

Lin Feng listened silently, his fingers lightly rubbing the kunai pouch at his waist.

The air around them seemed to freeze.

Several passing villagers stopped and whispered among themselves.

"Uchiha again..."

"Stop talking. Let's go..."

The crowd dispersed, distant and indifferent.

Captain Jiechuan did not respond to the blacksmith again. He merely waved a hand, signaling Lin Feng and the two members to follow.

Lin Feng continued onward with them.

But he had already noted the information in the blacksmith's words—funding cuts, dissatisfied young people, and unrest brewing within the clan.

They reached the middle of the commercial street and turned left at the intersection.

The entrance to a narrow alley came into view.

Lin Feng was just about to turn with the group when his peripheral vision suddenly caught a figure.

In the shadows at the mouth of the alley stood a young man dressed in an Anbu uniform.

Black hair. Cold eyes.

Uchiha Itachi.

Lin Feng halted.

Itachi stood against the wall, seemingly having just returned from a mission. His expression was blank as his calm gaze swept over the patrol.

Lin Feng took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Senior Itachi! Long time no see. Why are you wearing that? A mission?"

He tried to make his tone sound natural, as casual as a younger clan member running into an elder.

Itachi gave him a faint glance. When he spoke, his voice was cold. "Focus on your patrol. Don't concern yourself with unnecessary matters."

Lin Feng's heart tightened.

Itachi continued, "Take part in fewer of the clan's gatherings."

There was an unmistakable warning in his tone.

Lin Feng opened his mouth, wanting to explain. "Gatherings? I haven't—"

Before he could finish, Itachi had already brushed past him. As he passed Lin Feng's side, he lowered his voice and said—

"You know it in your heart. Staying alive is more important than anything."

His voice was extremely soft, like a breeze brushing past Lin Feng's ear.

Lin Feng stood where he was, his back stiffening slightly.

Those words pierced his mind like a needle.

Stay alive.

More important than anything.

Itachi knew something.

He definitely knew something.

Lin Feng clenched his fists and forced himself to recover, then hurriedly caught up with the patrol.

Captain Jiechuan had not noticed what had just happened. He simply walked ahead, occasionally looking back at Lin Feng to make sure he had not fallen behind.

The patrol continued.

At the end of the commercial street, in the alley near the Security Force's shift-change room, the surroundings gradually grew quiet.

The sky began to darken.

Lin Feng followed the group into the shift-change room, preparing to hand over their duties.

Two clan elders sat on a bench inside, speaking quietly, with several members changing shifts nearby.

The moment Lin Feng entered, Elder A's voice drifted into his ears—

"In exactly one year, it will be the day the clan assembly decides to act."

Elder B coughed. "Keep your voice down! Don't let outsiders hear..."

Lin Feng stopped abruptly.

One year.

His mind exploded with a roar.

The clan massacre.

Only one year remained.

The timeline he had been able to foresee from the outline was now spoken aloud by an elder on the scene, instantly becoming a tangible, crushing pressure.

Lin Feng felt his palms begin to sweat.

He forced himself to maintain his expression as he walked to the shift registration desk in the corner and lowered his head to fill out the form.

But his fingers felt somewhat cold.

The elders were still talking, but their voices had dropped too low for him to make out the specifics.

Lin Feng strained his ears and caught only scattered words like "action," "take a stand," and "must."

He quickly finished the form and set down the pen.

Then he turned and walked out of the shift-change room.

Night had completely fallen.

The lamps along Konoha's streets had just been lit, their dim yellow light spilling over the road and casting long shadows.

Lin Feng stood alone by the roadside.

The surroundings were empty. Occasionally, patrolling ninja hurried past, but no one paid attention to him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Itachi's warning still echoed in his ears—

"Staying alive is more important than anything."

The elder's words also spun through his mind—

"One year."

Lin Feng opened his eyes and clenched both fists.

He could not tell anyone the truth.

He could not reveal to the Security Force what would happen in the future.

He could not say that he knew the outcome of the clan massacre.

That would trigger a butterfly effect and might even draw the Anbu's attention ahead of time.

He could only act in secret.

That cold Itachi hid far too many secrets. Lin Feng decided that starting today, he would try to contact him in secret.

He was the key channel for what came next.

He was also the only living person in this year who might be able to provide useful information.

Lin Feng slowly raised his head.

The moon overhead was half full, its cold light spilling across Konoha's rooftops.

He turned and headed toward his Household in the clan compound.

His steps were firmer than when he had arrived.

There was only one year.

But at least now, he knew what ground he stood on and how much time he had left to prepare.

He had to make a plan. He had to act.

In this village.

Before death descended.