Bloody Reckoning, Night Raid Trap

After dealing with Viper and leaving behind the Uchiha mark, Madara did not immediately leave Knockturn Alley. Its chaotic, mixed-bag environment was instead the perfect cover for him.

Deep within the alley, he found an inconspicuous-looking wizarding tavern—Thestral's Severed Tail.

The moment he entered, the previously boisterous noise instantly died down. Countless gazes swept over him—greedy, curious, malicious. The rules of Knockturn Alley were naked and primitive: weakness was the original sin, and a child alone was nothing more than walking meat.

Madara adjusted the sunglasses on his nose. This cheap pair bought from a Muggle shop temporarily blocked the gazes constantly sizing him up.

Rumors outside were already spreading like wildfire. No matter how terrifying the titles "Blood Lord" and "Flamel Wraith" sounded, there would always be desperadoes willing to test their luck.

He ignored them, walked to the bar, and ordered a glass of water—given this body's age and condition, alcohol was not suitable yet.

After finishing it, he rose and headed for the second floor.

Three burly figures blocked the staircase. Their bodies were covered in Dark Magic scars, wands in hand, yellow teeth bared in grins.

"Kid, hand over your Galleons and anything valuable! Take off those sunglasses and let everyone have a look! Wearing those in broad daylight, pretending to be blind? Hahahaha!" The lead dark wizard snarled, flashing a mouthful of yellow teeth as malicious laughter rang out behind him.

Madara did not respond.

The next second—

His figure flickered like a ghost!

No spells, no incantations. Only dull impacts and crisp cracks of breaking bone!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

When Madara's figure became clear again, he had already stepped onto the first stair.

Behind him, the three hulking men lay sprawled on the floor like discarded rags, their limbs twisted, their throat bones shattered. They could only make hoarse, leaking sounds as their bodies twitched unconsciously.

Madara did not pause for even a moment and went straight upstairs.

The tavern fell into dead silence. The dark wizards who had been laughing without restraint moments ago now dared not make a sound, like neutered mongrels. Only the three bodies on the ground, not yet entirely dead, continued to convulse faintly. Every malicious gaze instantly withdrew, leaving behind nothing but deep fear.

Now, no one doubted whether this sunglasses-wearing kid was easy prey. He had already given them the most direct answer—if they provoked him, they had better be prepared to become the "clutter" on the floor.

Late at night, Madara sat cross-legged on the bed.

Half his consciousness sank into his body, sensing the active Otsutsuki Clan cells and surging magic. The other half guided the magic to slowly merge with the primal power belonging to Indra deep within his bloodline.

He had already formed an initial plan for the future: building his own force was essential, and the first step was acquiring resources.

At dawn, he planned to make a trip to Gringotts—see what remained in the Flamel Family vault, and put the keys dug out from the dead men's memories to use.

However—

The next morning, as Madara descended the stairs, his senses instantly detected something unusual.

The tavern owner, the bald man who had still been somewhat fearful and ingratiating toward him last night, was now standing behind the bar, vigorously wiping a glass. Yet his movements were stiff, his eyes darted about, and he did not dare meet Madara's gaze. Fine beads of cold sweat covered his temples. When Madara's eyes passed over him, his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.

Something was wrong.

Madara remained impassive, as though he had noticed nothing, and continued toward the tavern entrance. His steps were steady, but every muscle in his body had silently shifted into its optimal state, magic flowing soundlessly within him.

Just as his hand was about to touch the doorknob—

From the corner of his eye, he saw the owner suddenly reach beneath the bar, his face anxious as he fumbled for something.

A cold curve appeared at the corner of Madara's lips.

After fumbling for several moments, the owner's face instantly went pale—he had found nothing! The magical rune he had hidden there for emergency contact was gone!

Seeing Madara about to vanish through the door, the owner could no longer bother concealing anything. He hurriedly bent down, thrusting nearly his whole head beneath the bar as he tried to see what had happened.

Just then, a voice so calm it was chilling sounded beside his ear:

"Are you looking for this?"

The owner's body instantly stiffened as if frozen. Slowly, with extreme difficulty, he raised his head, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints from overwhelming terror.

Madara was standing right beside the bar! Less than half a meter away! And clutched in his hand was the wooden token engraved with the Communication Rune!

"H-how? You... weren't you at the door..." The owner's voice was dry as sandpaper scraping. "How did you..." He suddenly whipped his head toward the entrance—the black-haired "boy" in sunglasses was still standing there with his back to them, one hand on the doorknob.

Then... who was the one beside him?!

Before his utterly horrified eyes, the "Madara" by the door vanished in an instant with an exceedingly soft pop and a puff of white smoke!

Clone Technique. A basic ninja technique cast by using magic to imitate chakra, yet it worked exceptionally well.

Through his sunglasses, Madara coldly watched the owner's terrified expression, idly turning the Communication Rune between his fingers. "Judging by that look, you recognized me?" His tone held a trace of amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse beneath its paw. "Who were you tipping off just now?"

He casually tossed the wooden token to the owner, who had gone limp against the bar.

"Call them out. Let me see."

The owner caught the token in a fluster. Looking at Madara's cold expression, which did not seem to be joking, and feeling the bone-chilling killing intent that remained sharp even through the sunglasses, he completely lost any courage to resist. Trembling, he injected a faint thread of magic into the rune, whispered several words to it, then raised his head, his face ashen.

"M-my lord... I had no choice... He has leverage on me... He said... he said he would be waiting for you at Flamel Manor tonight..."

Madara listened quietly without showing any reaction. He merely gave the owner one final "look," his gaze seeming to pierce through the sunglasses. Then he turned and truly walked to the door, pushed it open, and left.

Watching Madara disappear outside, the owner slumped into his chair as though all strength had left him, gasping heavily. His back was already soaked through with cold sweat. He had survived? That monster had simply left? Relief at having escaped death surged within him.

However, that relief lasted only a few seconds.

He suddenly realized that he could not move!

At some unknown point, countless tough, thorn-covered dark green vines had silently crept out from cracks in the floor and corners of the walls like venomous snakes with lives of their own. They wrapped tightly around him and the chair beneath him, binding him to the bar! He could not even move a finger!

"Mmph! Mmmph!!" His eyes widened in terror as he tried to scream, but the vines quickly coiled around his mouth, squeezing him so tightly that he could not make a clear sound.

Then he saw a cluster of ghostly blue flames ignite out of thin air on the carpet in the center of the tavern. The fire seemed alive, spreading rapidly and setting the wooden tables and chairs, curtains, bar... ablaze. The blaze was unnaturally fierce and terrifyingly hot, yet it produced almost no thick smoke. There was only that cold blue glow, as if it could burn the soul itself.

Fiendfyre! And Fiendfyre controlled with extreme precision!

The owner's eyes filled with endless terror and despair. He could only watch helplessly as the ghostly blue flames swallowed him, feel the searing agony of his flesh burning, and let out muffled, miserable whimpers suppressed by the vines.

Madara walked along Knockturn Alley's filthy streets without even looking back. Behind him, ghostly blue flames shot into the sky from the direction of Thestral's Severed Tail, casting an eerie glow across that stretch of heaven. A few brief screams seemed to drift over, as though something had covered their source?

He thought about it indifferently.

They were trash anyway. It did not matter.

Now, he needed to find another quiet place to rest and conserve his strength.

Tonight, he still had to visit Flamel Manor and meet the person bold enough to "invite" him.

Hopefully, they would be able to take a few hits.