A pillar of fire that seemed ready to pierce the heavens shot into the sky, startling even Raiga Kurosuki, who had already fled five kilometers away, into a shudder.
He whipped his head around.
In the distance, a pillar of fire pierced the clouds, surging madly upward far behind him.
That patch of sky... no!
The far reaches of the entire sky were already glowing faintly red!
A sixty-year-old geezer, without even a system to boost him-where had he gotten such absurd explosive power?
Yet the instant he swapped in his spare Sharingan, Old Madara clearly sensed it—the Third Mizukage, whom he had controlled for decades, had been killed.
It had happened in a single instant.
The contempt on his face, his disdain for Xuan Zhe for not being a bloodline Shinobi, vanished completely.
Had this been the Warring States era, the Hatake Clan might well have stood as equals with the Uchiha and Senju.
"Ugh... aaagh..."
On a wooden bed nearby, Obito, whose lower body had been grafted with an artificial Hashirama head, kept groaning in pain.
Old Madara's brows knitted tightly.
There was no choice. He had to fool this stupid boy first.
"Lord Madara, what if we can't bring that girl back... what do we do?"
A White Zetsu Clone emerged from the stone wall and asked.
"..."
Old Madara rose and walked toward Obito. After thinking for a few seconds as he walked, he left an answer:
"Then make this boy's injuries worse."
The main battlefield south of the Land of Fire was in utter chaos.
An enormous sea of fire instantly reduced the ice walls, which could withstand an incomplete Susanoo, to ash.
The towering pillar of fire pierced the clouds, staining even the horizon crimson.
Whether from Konoha or Kirigakure, the dumbstruck Shinobi