Struggle and pain appeared on Ye's face at the right time.
Sometimes he frowns, sometimes he stops talking.
Occasionally, he "accidentally" mentioned how he was being followed by ANBU in the village and his tribe was marginalized.
Madara stared closely at Ye's reaction as he dropped another bombshell news.
"Those ANBU are always wandering around Uchiha compound."
"Every move you make is under the surveillance of Hiruzen Sarutobi and Shimura Danzō."
He paused for a moment and spoke very slowly.
"This is the reward that the village to which you swear allegiance will give you."
Ye lowered his head.
Biting his lower lip, he made fists with both hands.
When he heard the topic of ANBU surveillance, he raised his head suddenly, and the resentment of having been stabbed in a painful spot flashed in his eyes.
Madara observed the changes in Ye's expression, and the calculations in Sharingan became more intense.
This kid is not only super strong, but also very thoughtful.
It's easier to guide than he thought.
With just a slight provocation, he can completely give up on the village and become dependent on himself.
The feeling of kinship, the grace of survival, plus the sense of identity brought by this "grievance".
The triple yoke has been firmly fastened.
All it takes is an opportunity to make him completely fall in love with him.
The second chess piece is about to be caught.
Madara was proud of himself.
The moment Madara was about to give his final conclusion and tighten this invisible rope.
Ye lowered her head and suddenly spoke.
"Senior..."
He raised his head, his expression impeccably sincere.
"Can I ask you something?"
Madara nodded slightly.
"You've been here alone... for so many years..." Ye's voice was very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing the dust here.
"Aren't you lonely?"
Madara's fingers paused.
He didn't expect this problem.
Something flashed in those turbid Sharingan.
He was quickly suppressed.
"Lonely?"
Madara snorted, and his chapped lips curled into a disdainful arc.
"My mission transcends this emotion."
Ye lowered his head.
Enough.
All the preparations are in place.
Lao Deng's biggest weakness has never been his combat power or conspiracy, but that he is too lonely.
So lonely that even Eye of the Moon Plan fabricated by Black Zetsu can accept all orders.
He was so lonely that he subconsciously longed for a blood relative who truly belonged to him.
And that card is specifically for pouring cement into this crack.
Ye's right hand hanging by his side quietly slipped into the side pocket of the Ninja Tools bag.
His fingertips touched a cold card with a strange material.
The front is printed with bamboo fences, huts, and cooking smoke.
The back says "Rural Leisure Experience".
The final prop for a multi-million-level prize pool.
Concept-level plug-ins that can tamper with and implant real-life perceptions.
Ye lowered his head.
The shadow of his bangs obscured his face.
The corners of his mouth grinned silently, revealing a somewhat sly smile.
He pulled out the card and held it between his fingers.
Gently rub the edge of the card with your fingers.
Madara's peripheral vision caught that tiny movement.
Intuition triggers strong alarm.
Sharingan and Eye Power are rushing through the meridians.
An uneasiness that could threaten the soul erupted from the depths of his exhausted body.
An ominous premonition surged up, so sharp that it even shivered in this barely surviving body.
He raised his arm decisively and shouted sharply!
"Stop! What you are holding is..."
It's too late.
The five fingers of the night are folded.
Hold on tight!
The card shattered in response.
Thousands of golden light points burst out from between his fingers, like a shattered sun.
The light spots turned into storms and swept out.
The space of the underground cave was torn, disintegrated, and reconstructed.
The green phosphorus fire went out.
Demonic Statue of the Outer Path disappears.
The cold, damp air was gone.
The stone wall is gone.
The life support tube is gone.
Everything that belongs to darkness is swallowed up by golden light.
Waves of golden wheat fill the field of vision.
The sun is warm and dazzling.
The sound of gurgling water and the crisp chirping of birds fill your ears.
The wind carries the sweet fragrance of ripe rice.
A wooden house stands next to a field. Morning glories are wrapped around the bamboo fence and blooming just right.
A memory that did not exist was brutally poured into Madara Uchiha's brain.
was created.
Be woven.
being infused.
Overwrite, implant.
In memory: Madara Uchiha has a biological grandson named Uchiha Ye.
Pictures flash by one after another, and the seasons alternate.
In the paddy fields in spring.
Six-year-old Ye rolled up her trouser legs and followed Madara to plant rice.
Mud covered their faces.
Madara was not wearing the armor of Warring States Era, but was wearing coarse linen clothes, smiling with a kind face.
Xiao Ye stood on tiptoes and raised the seedlings high above her head to show him, smiling so hard that her eyebrows crumpled.
By the stream in summer.
Eight-year-old Ye grabbed a grass carp and ran on tiptoes to Madara, who was sitting on a bamboo chair.
Water splashed all over Ban.
Madara shook his head helplessly and wiped the sweat from Ye's forehead with his rough fingers.
In front of the wooden house in autumn.
Madara held Ye's hand and corrected his posture of throwing Kunai.
He also taught him writing in the yard and told the old stories of Uchiha ancestors.
The wooden target is covered with Kunai.
Ye turned her head, tugged on Madara's clothes, and shouted "Grandpa" loudly.
Not "seniors".
It's grandpa.
Next to the stove in winter.
Madara tells Ye Ye about the glory of Uchiha.
Ye leaned on Madara's knees and fell asleep.
Madara took off his coat and put it on Ye's body, gently rubbing the soft little head with his rough palms, his eyes full of doting.
This pastoral life is long, warm and peaceful.
The touch, smell, temperature, and even the softness of Madara's hair when he caressed the head of Night's head are all perfectly engraved in the depths of the soul.
The warmth and details can only be experienced through personal experience.
Every frame is extremely real, like a soldering iron, crazily stamping into the depths of Madara's consciousness.
Madara's body twitched violently.
He grabbed the armrests of the stone chair with both hands.
Hard rocks were crushed into powder by him.
The golden light dispersed.
The pastoral illusion disappears.
The cave returns to darkness.
Phosphorus fire beats.
The golem stands.
Ye still knelt on one knee, covering his left shoulder, maintaining the injured posture.
He looked pale and looked weak.
And on the stone chair.
Madara Uchiha froze.
He slumped down on the stone chair, his whole body stiff.
Sharingan is completely out of focus.
His finger bones were clinging to the armrest of the stone chair, and his joints were turning white.
In his vision, reality and the implanted memory overlapped crazily.
The depths of his pupils reflect something that only he can see.
A small hand.
A wheat field.
Say "Grandpa".
The little boy holding the grass carp with a bright smile completely overlapped with the pale-faced young Jonin in front of him with wary eyes.
Madara's Adam's apple rolled violently as he swallowed dry air.
He slowly lowered his head and raised his withered hands.
The palms have deep lines.
These hands... indeed held something.
Indeed, one evening, I rubbed my little head.
No.
These hands.
Indeed, I held that warm little hand.
Indeed, Natsuhi rubbed the child's hair amidst the chirping of cicadas.
What? If I don't have a wife, how can I have a grandson?
What? I don't have a son, so I can't possibly have a grandson?
None of this is important! What is important is that Madara knows that Uchiha Ye is his true grandson!
The warmth deep in the memory made Madara's mind stop resisting.
Every thought that should have caused doubts was drowned by those hot and real pictures.
Madara suddenly raised his head.
Sharingan refocused and locked the night.
The calculations and arrogance deep in his heart all collapsed at this moment.
A hot emotion that he had never experienced before surged up from the depths of his exhausted soul.
It was the purest doting and guilt that belonged to an old man.
"Is that you?"
Madara's voice was hoarse, with a tremor that he had never heard before.
It is incredibly softer than ever before.
"My grandson."
Ye knelt on the ground and lowered his head.
Bangs obscured his expression.
Shoulders tremble slightly.
It looked like he lost control of his emotions after being hit by Madara's words.
But in the shadow of bangs.
The corners of Ye's mouth were grinning almost to the base of her ears.
[Ding! Bloodline Approval Points from Madara Uchiha, +5000!]