The underground cavern was dark and damp, connected by pipes to the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path. The air was thick with the stale smell of earth, a faint trace of blood, and the heavy, decaying air of a life about to burn out.
Madara Uchiha, once the Asura of the Ninja World, was now merely an old man as withered as rotten wood, barely kept alive by the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path. He sat quietly on a stone chair, life-sustaining pipes connected to his back.
His aged yet still piercing eyes, no longer possessing the Rinnegan's imposing radiance-he now had only an ordinary pair of Three-Tomoe Sharingan-resembled two cold, ghostly flames in the gloom as they watched a mass of shadow slowly rise from the ground ahead.
Black Zetsu emerged halfway from the shadows, still a shapeless form composed of pure darkness, with only a pair of murky topaz eyes gleaming in the dark. His pretense of reverence was particularly pronounced.
"Lord Madara," Black Zetsu's raspy voice, neither male nor female, rang through the cavern, carrying the same seemingly heartfelt "loyalty" and "concern" that had remained unchanged for a thousand years.
"There are new developments I must report to you."
Madara raised his eyelids slightly without speaking, merely signaling with his eyes for him to continue.
His prolonged struggle to stay alive and dependence on the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path had left his voice like a worn-out bellows. He rarely spoke unless necessary.
"They concern the Rinnegan, as well as... movements in Konoha and Mount Myōboku." Black Zetsu lowered his voice further, as though sharing top-secret intelligence.
Madara's gaze instantly sharpened like a needlepoint. "The Rinnegan... how are things with Nagato?" His voice was dry and hoarse, but carried unmistakable concern. Those eyes were