Spring, Year Eight of Konoha.
The early spring sun had gained a little strength, but the melting snow absorbed its heat, leaving a damp chill in the air.
Everyone coming and going from the Konoha Military Police Force's East District branch building had a certain vigor about them. Their backs were straight, their steps firm. Whenever their eyes swept the streets, shopkeepers and stallholders instinctively offered a smile. Whatever curses people muttered behind their backs, on the surface, here in the East District, the Uchiha's dark blue uniforms were the final word.
Third floor, branch chief's office.
Yinglang was not sitting in his broad leather chair. He sat cross-legged on the low couch beside the window, eyes closed. Sunlight slanted in, tracing a soft golden fringe around his body and face. His breathing was light and long, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible.
Inside him, the Dragon Essence Seed he had been nurturing hovered steadily. With every pulse, a small stream of warm spring water seemed to flow through his limbs and bones, bringing comfort even to the gaps between them. Under this daily nurturing and cleansing, his flesh, sinews, and bones had long since become absurdly tough. An ordinary kunai drawn across him would probably struggle to leave even a white mark. In his lower abdomen, the newly formed "qi," mixed with the Sharingan's Yin Release power, was also growing increasingly substantial. Occasionally, a spark or two of black-red electricity flashed through its dull gray base, a chilling sight.
Most important of all were his eyes.
Even closed, he could feel that heavy, brimming "presence" deep within his eyeballs. It was neither heat nor swelling, but something else-as though, while those three tomoe spun, they had connected to somewhere deeper, darker, and more boundless beyond them. His Eye Power rose little by little like water, soundless but unmistakable, spreading toward some "ceiling" he could not touch but could sense.
Peak Kage.
The term felt increasingly real to him. This was not the kind of transformation gained by awakening the Mangekyō through agonizing, explosive emotion. Through his own painstaking, gradual effort, he had pushed his physique, that "qi," his Eye Power, and his mental strength to the place occupied by the very finest few within the Kage tier.
Outside the window, the cries from the street, the footsteps downstairs, the flowing river in the distance, and farther still, the flutter of birds' wings on Hokage Rock... all reached his ears as clearly as words spoken right beside him. Yet they also seemed separated by a thin veil, unable to disturb the still pool within his heart.
That was the benefit of having confidence in his own strength.
As he reflected on this, the Summoning Contract linking him to Yutian stirred ever so faintly in his chest, giving their agreed signal-it was nothing urgent. It was simply time to "balance the books" again.
Yinglang opened his eyes, clear and calm. He rose, strolled behind his desk, and sat down. With a thought, he instantly connected to the memories of his Shadow Clone on the British Continent, across an unknown number of mountains and rivers.
"...Found signs of a small mineral deposit to the southeast. Samples taken. The 'guard' has more recruits, bringing it up to fifty. Their drills and conditioning are starting to look decent. Reached an agreement with that 'Giant Crocodile Tribe': salt, small iron knives, and clay pots in exchange for hides, dried meat, and a vine sap that can knock people out. Newly reclaimed farmland has passed a hundred mu. The first rice crop looks all right..."
Life on the Shadow Clone's side was rough, but every step was solid. Rainforest, land, and rules slowly established through fists and goods. None of Konoha's convoluted scheming. Solid.
He withdrew his attention and unconsciously tapped the smooth desktop twice. It was time to check his "harvest" here in Konoha, too.
He sank his awareness into his mind. The lottery wheel still hovered in its usual place, halos of light flowing around it. Once every seven days, without fail. Even if all he drew was junk, he still had to draw.
[Ding! Lottery cooldown complete. Perform this week's draw?]
"Draw."
The wheel spun, its multicolored lights dazzling his eyes. Slowly, it stopped.
[Congratulations, host. You have received "one jar of premium caviar (from 'Arctic Story')."]
Yinglang did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. With a sweep of his mind, the expensive-looking jar of caviar entered his system storage, becoming neighbors with the miscellaneous pile of "never-wearing comb," "domineering duke novel," and "strange-flavored candy" from before. Not much of it was useful, but he might as well save it. Who knew?
He did not dwell on the caviar. His attention settled on another corner of the system storage-on that black token, neither metal nor jade, covered in distorted emotional faces.
Forbidden Technique: Emotion Transformation.
He had drawn this thing back in Year Three of Konoha. It came from the world of "Jing-Ju Cats." The method sealed within it was sinister. It could extract living beings' negative emotions-fear, hatred, pain, despair-refine them, and burn them as temporary fuel to bolster his own strength. Its power was supposedly terrifying, but the side effects were severe as well. It could easily corrupt his disposition, and it was extremely particular about both the "quality" and "quantity" of the emotions.
Before, his physique had not been strong enough, his mind had not been stable enough, and he had possessed no Dragon Essence at all. This forbidden technique had been a hot potato he dared not even touch.
But now...
Yinglang slowly exhaled. He had a Peak Kage physique as his foundation, Dragon Essence nurturing his soul, and the Three-Tomoe Sharingan guarding his mental sea. He felt he now had the confidence to try this forbidden technique, at least to dabble in it. Even if it failed, with his current control, he should be able to sever the connection in time and suppress the backlash.
Perhaps this could become a new, unexpected trump card. Especially against certain specific targets...
As he considered it, a soft knock came at the office door.
"Come in."
A trusted police officer pushed open the door and entered, lowering his voice. "Branch Chief, there's... some news from the Hokage Building."
"Speak."
"I heard... Lord Tobirama has formally taken disciples. Not just one. Six."
Yinglang's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Oh? Which six?"
"Shimura Danzō, Hiruzen Sarutobi, Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura, Torifu Akimichi..." The officer paused, his voice dropping further. "And... Kagami Uchiha."
At the last name, Yinglang's expression remained unchanged. Only a faint, knowing chill flickered through his eyes. Kagami was on the list, just as expected. No surprise there. Tobirama intended to get the utmost out of his role as both a "model" and a "planted agent."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"There's also... the Medical Team's latest assessment of Lord First. They say his injuries have stabilized and his life can definitely be saved, but recovering fully... will be difficult. Going forward, the village's day-to-day affairs will probably... have to depend on Lord Tobirama's decisions for a long time."
"Mm." Yinglang waved a hand. "You can go. Keep your mouth shut."
"Yes."
The door closed softly. Silence returned to the office, broken only by the occasional crackle of charcoal in the stove.
Yinglang leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The corners of his mouth lifted little by little, higher and higher, until he finally could not contain himself. A low, muffled chuckle escaped his throat.
"Ha... hahaha..."
Good news! Absolutely wonderful news!
Shimura Danzō, Hiruzen Sarutobi, Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura-well, well. The famous "Konoha F4," who could drag Konoha into utter ruin in the future, were all here! Every last one of them, under Tobirama's tutelage! Oh, and Torifu Akimichi too, though that one... had a rather weak presence.
And then there was Kagami Uchiha, deliberately cultivated and full of resentment toward his clan.
Tobirama, oh, Tobirama. That eye of yours, that grand design... simply brilliant! So brilliant Yinglang wanted to applaud him!
Did you really think these few pieces of work would let you keep Konoha firmly in your grasp and crush the Uchiha so thoroughly they could never rise again?
Danzo was vicious and extreme. How many of Konoha's tragedies would stem from his hand amid Root's future darkness?
Hiruzen appeared generous, but was actually a seasoned political operator. How many hidden dangers would he plant as his clan's influence expanded during his tenure? And that mess at the end...
Koharu and Homura, mediocre custodians stuck in their ways-how much of the future leadership meetings' bickering, obstruction, and endless foolish decisions would owe itself to their "contributions"!
As for Kagami... a deliberately rushed "model" of the Will of Fire who turned his back on his clan? What could he amount to? What good end could he possibly meet?
Entrusting Konoha's future to a group of "disciples" like these?
Yinglang smiled and shook his head, his eyes full of mockery.
Fine, then. It was perfect that they had all gathered together. It would save me having to identify and deal with them one by one later.
With "pillars" like you steering the ship of Konoha, how could it fail to sink? And how could my-Uchiha Yinglang's (Toyotomi Yinglang's)-great undertaking of building something new overseas lack a contrast, or a "righteous cause"?
He slowly reined in his smile, his gaze becoming deep and calm once more.
Spring, Year Eight of Konoha. Hashirama was half-crippled and had retreated behind the scenes; Tobirama held sole power, painstakingly cultivating his "star-studded" band of disciples; the Uchiha's Konoha Military Police Force expanded and raked in money in the shadows; and the new continent overseas was quietly being cultivated.
As for him, his physique, Eye Power, and uncanny techniques had all reached the threshold of Peak Kage. He quietly watched the shifting situation, secretly gathering thunder.
The pieces on the board were becoming clearer, and the players' approaches were gradually revealing themselves.
This game was growing more and more interesting.
He stood, walked to the window, and pushed it open. A chilly spring breeze poured in, stirring the loose hair over his forehead.
In the distance, the First Hokage's face on Hokage Rock remained gentle, but the village beneath his feet was already seething with hidden currents.
Yinglang took a deep breath of the cool, complicated air, then slowly released it.
"Come, then," he murmured, with a cold anticipation. "Let's see just what kind of 'fine flowers' this eighth year of Konoha can bloom, and what kind of 'bountiful fruit' it can bear."
Before you continue