At the Peak of the Storm! The Gathering of Crimson Eyes

The rain poured heavily.

London's night sky was covered by thick clouds, and rainwater seemed to be pouring down from the heavens, splashing against every surface it could reach. The rain reflected none of the lights across the river—only a blurred, shattered darkness.

Big Ben's spire pierced through the heavy curtain of rain.

At the summit of this iconic landmark, there was even less shelter from the rain. Cold droplets, swept along by the high-altitude winds, lashed sideways with enough force to sting the cheeks. Up here, the whole world seemed reduced to the howl of wind and rain and the hazy outline of the city below.

Madara stood at the edge of the tower, almost blending into the darkness.

Dense raindrops pounded against the old stone bricks of the clock tower, shattering into finer mist that the wind swept against him. They produced a dull, ceaseless sound, like countless tiny drumbeats striking Zhaoyang's heart. Cold and damp, yet it left him exceptionally clear-headed.

He watched pedestrians below hurrying beneath umbrellas toward the subway and buses. The city at his feet was a blurred sea of light, twisted and washed away by the torrential rain. Those lights represented order, rules, and the city where he now lived.

It was the year 1990.

For most people in this city, it was nothing special.

But for Madara, more than half a year had passed since his rebirth.

According to his subordinates' intelligence, the British wizarding world's legendary "Boy Who Lived," the "Savior," Harry Potter, would be starting school this year.

If nothing unexpected happened, Harry Potter, having inherited the Yagyu Family, would surely receive his own letter of admission as well.

The clock tower beneath his feet stood nearly a hundred meters tall. For most ordinary people, without guardrails or stairways, very few could stand atop it and admire the view without changing expression.

Rainwater slid down his short black hair and dripped from his chin.

He wore a retro Japanese robe. The dark fabric had long since been soaked through, clinging heavily to his body and outlining a tall, powerful frame.

Around him stood or crouched more than ten figures.

Their uniforms were strange, fitted close to their bodies for ease of movement while carrying a certain peculiar discipline. In the torrential rain, they did not move an inch, like statues cast from iron.

Rainwater streamed down from the hoods concealing their faces, making it impossible to see any of their features.

Only in the instant lightning suddenly flashed among the dark clouds—

"Crack!"

A deathly pale flash illuminated the tower roof, clearly revealing the flame pattern shaped like a ping-pong paddle on their sleeves. The light vanished in an instant, and the world returned to darkness and clamor.

Then—

"Whoosh!"

A sound so faint it was nearly swallowed entirely by the rain rang out.

An additional figure appeared in the open space at the center of the tower without warning.

He wore the same night attire and the same outfit. His appearance was so abrupt that he seemed to have seeped directly out of the shadows.

The moment he appeared, he dropped to one knee and lowered his head. Rainwater immediately gathered along his hunched back.

"My lord." The newcomer's voice was steady, piercing through the rain curtain and reaching Madara's ears clearly.

Madara did not turn around. He merely cast a slight glance with his crimson eyes.

The kneeling man continued his report. His voice contained no discernible emotion, only absolute calm and obedience. "The target has been eliminated. Aside from the Pure-Blood Alliance's territory, which we did not touch under your orders, most of London is now ours."

After finishing his report, he lowered his head again and waited like the most perfect tool. "Please give your orders."

The tower roof fell into a long silence.

Madara did not respond, and the kneeling subordinate did not complain. Only the wind and rain continued.

London below was indistinct beneath the downpour. Vast patches of neon light bled through the water like an overturned palette.

At the foot of the tower, a boy around Madara's age wiped his glasses, draped his clothes over his head, then rushed into the rain and vanished from Madara's sight.

The sight made the corner of his mouth lift involuntarily.

"The happiness of mortals."

He remained there, looking down at London being ravaged by the storm. Silence enveloped the tower roof, broken only by the unceasing noise of rain striking stone bricks.

Just then—

A pitch-black raven flew in from afar. Though its feathers were soaked through by rainwater, it still stubbornly crossed the rain curtain and landed precisely on Madara's shoulder.

He reached out and removed a small parchment scroll sealed with magic from the raven's leg.

Rainwater dripped from the ends of his black hair, spreading across the Flame Fan Crest embroidered on his shoulder. A trace of magic flowed from his fingertips, effortlessly breaking the scroll's seemingly exquisite protective enchantment.

Unfolding the scroll, his crimson Sharingan swiftly scanned its contents in the dim light.

It was an "invitation" led by the Bosde Family and joined by several declining pure-blood families. Its wording was cautious, yet could not conceal its arrogance—inviting "a representative of the Uchiha Clan" to Bosde Manor to "discuss matters concerning the future order of the wizarding world."

At first, Madara's face showed no expression.

But gradually, a twisted, uncontrollable curve rose at the corner of his mouth.

That curve grew wider and wider, eventually becoming a low, wild laugh that seemed capable of piercing through the storm and shaking the soul!

"Hmm... hehehe...—!!!"

His low laughter gradually rose, becoming brazen and uninhibited before finally turning into an undisguised, open-mouthed howl of laughter!

"Ha... hahaha... hahahaha—!"

He suddenly spread his arms wide, as if he wanted to embrace London's rainy night and this land he had conquered!

His head was raised high toward the dark clouds pressing down over the city and the torrential rain pouring from above as he laughed wildly!

His laughter echoed from the storm-lashed summit of the tower, carrying endless mockery and disdain, even drowning out the wind and rain!

Those pure-blood families who called themselves noble, those fools who had once regarded Flamel as material and him as a threat—

At last, they had no choice but to lower their "noble" heads and send him an "invitation"!

At that very moment!

"Crack—!!!"

Another enormous bolt of lightning tore through the sky. Blazing white light erupted in an instant, illuminating the tower roof as brightly as day!

And in that same instant, it illuminated the dozen or so figures standing silently behind Madara like statues.

Their bodies were enveloped in specially made black cloaks, like ghosts merged with the shadows. But beneath the lightning's fierce radiance, they all raised their heads—

Beneath their hoods, pairs of crimson eyes suddenly lit up!

Those were simply not human eyes!

Whether left or right, each blood-red eye flared brightly beneath the pale lightning!

Within every red eye was a black tomoe, slowly rotating with its owner's emotions and radiating a cold, sinister, powerful gleam.

Over the past few months, Madara had selected these unwavering loyalists from among those who had "voluntarily" or "involuntarily" pledged themselves to him. They had endured inhuman pain and successfully received Sharingan Marking!

They had abandoned their past, even their humanity, becoming a special force loyal only to Uchiha Madara—

The Uchiha Shadow Guard!

More than a dozen pairs of bloodline-limit eyes inherited from the Uchiha Clan, eyes symbolizing insight and power, opened abruptly atop this foreign tower on a rainy night like stars of hell!

The lightning vanished in an instant, and darkness returned to the tower's summit.

Yet the dozen or so crimson Sharingan, still clear in the darkness and burning like the torches of hell, deeply branded the sight from moments ago into the air.

Thunder exploded with a deafening roar, as though even the sky had been shaken by this sudden evil and power.

Madara's laughter slowly faded.

With his back to that sea of crimson gazes, he looked out at hazy London beneath the torrential rain.

After a long while, he spoke. His voice had returned to its usual coldness, but it carried unquestionable resolve.

"Prepare gifts."

"It is time to visit our 'noble' neighbors."

The Shadow Guard members bowed silently. Their crimson eyes traced neat arcs through the darkness, like an obedient pack of wolves awaiting the alpha wolf's command to hunt.

"Let the world fear us..."

The rain grew heavier, battering the ancient clock tower's stone bricks madly.

"...fear the power of Uchiha!"

The moment his words fell—

"Whoosh!" "Whoosh!" "Whoosh!" "Whoosh!"

A series of faint, urgent sounds cutting through the air rang out.

[Who could it be? Why, it's all you handsome young Uchiha boys here! Could you toss me a five-star-review shuriken?]