In the forest.
Amidst the moonlight, there were shimmering flashes, like the ripples on flowing water.
Those were Kunai, reflecting the moonlight, densely scattered and adorning seven or eight trees nearby.
One hundred and twenty Kunai were all hanging on the trees, their thin strings taut, ready to be released, all aimed at Ryosuke on the grass.
A two-meter-high wooden stake stood on the grass.
The twelve thin strings tied to the Kunai were all wrapped around the stake.
Ryosuke stood on the stake, looking around at the densely packed Kunai, feeling a slight chill in his heart.
This sharp “Kunai Formation” was naturally created by Ryosuke himself.
He used it to test his throwing technique.
Although it was risky, it was very necessary.
He calmed his mind and activated his Sharingan.
Holding a shuriken in each hand, he adjusted his state to the best, before channeling Chakra to his feet and leaping up, soaring over ten meters high.
After reaching, he plummeted down head-first.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The two shuriken in his hands flew out, drawing two curved streaks of light across the night sky, severing all twelve thin strings tied to the wooden stake.
The one hundred and twenty Kunai shot out simultaneously, all aimed at Ryosuke in mid-air.
Ryosuke spun in mid-air, his entire body rotating at high speed like a tornado.
One by one, shuriken flew off and shot out.
Clang, clang, clang…
Ryosuke transformed into a “Ninja Tool Launcher,” throwing out shuriken one by one, precisely meeting each Kunai.
They collided in mid-air, producing clanging sounds and sparks.
Ryosuke bent his body and landed on the wooden stake in a half-crouch.
The Kunai and Shuriken lay scattered on the ground, a dark layer covering the grass.
Not a single one had hit him.
Undoubtedly, he succeeded.
In the two seconds of his descent, he threw one hundred and twenty Shuriken, blocking the one hundred and twenty Kunai that shot at him.
At this point, the arduous training of the throwing technique could come to an end, demoted to daily practice.
The main effort should be focused on the development of Lightning Release Ninjutsu and the utilization of Sharingan abilities, while also maintaining the extraction and proficient mastery of the system’s eyes.
Simply put, these are three training subjects: Ninjutsu, Sharingan, and system eyes.
Ryosuke put his hands on his hips and laughed heartily, feeling smug.
But he soon became distressed, as the scattered Kunai and Shuriken on the ground were waiting for him to pick them up.
There was nothing he could do.
He was a poor boy, and this large pile of Kunai and Shuriken all came from Mikoto’s generous support.
He jumped onto the grass and began picking up the Kunai and Shuriken.
First, he collected the Shuriken, filling both of his specialized large ninja tool bags.
Then he picked up the Kunai, threading a rope through the circular hole at the top of each Kunai, stringing them into a long chain that clinked and clanked.
It took Ryosuke about half an hour to retrieve all the ninja tools and pile them to the side.
He leaned against the wooden stake, head tilted back, gazing at the sky, lost in thought.
Rustle, rustle…
Ryosuke turned his head to see Mikoto walking towards him, carrying a bento box.
Before she even got close, the aroma of roasted meat wafted from the bento box and into Ryosuke’s nose, making his mouth water.
He quickly dashed over to take the bento box from Mikoto’s hands, and asked with a grin, “It’s so late, why are you here?” Mikoto tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.
“We had a family dinner tonight.
I roasted some pork belly, ribs, and enoki mushrooms and wanted to bring them to you.
After going to your house and finding you weren’t there, I guessed you must have come out to train, so I came to find you.” It’s hard to imagine that such a gentle girl would give birth to Itachi and Sasuke in the original story.
It must have been a genetic mutation, and the problem lay with Fugaku.
Therefore, after transmigrating, knowing that he and Mikoto were childhood friends, Ryosuke swore a solemn oath.
He would definitely cuckold Fugaku and make his gloomy face roll as far away as possible.
“Hehe, thanks.
Mikoto is still the best to me.” Ryosuke sat cross-legged and opened the bento box, which was filled with a pile of meat.
Mikoto smoothed her skirt and sat beside Ryosuke, hugging her knees.
“What’s wrong?
Is something on your mind?” Ryosuke chewed on a rib, his mouth full of oil, and asked.
Mikoto was silent for two seconds before nodding and responding, “Mmm.” “Tell me, let me help you resolve your worries.” “I sort of understand the story you told me that day.” “Story?
What story?” “It’s the one you told me…
the story about the goldfish.” “Oh, what about it?” Mikoto glanced at the moon, then lowered her head, saying in a low mood, “During the dinner just now, several seniors got drunk and were complaining bitterly, grumbling about the high-ranking officials in the village led by the Hokage.
They said they shouldn’t ostracize us, that we are the Uchiha of Konoha.” Ryosuke paused, then buried his head and continued to eat meat in large mouthfuls, without speaking.
“Tell me, why is it like this?
I feel a little uneasy.” “Actually, these aren’t things we should be thinking about.” Ryosuke finally finished eating and roughly wiped his mouth with his clothes.
“It’s useless for us to be anxious.
Only the strong have the right to speak.
The victor is king, the defeated are silent—that’s how it is.” After speaking, he fell backward, his head resting on his arms, as he stared blankly at the night sky.
“The moonlight is truly beautiful.” Mikoto sighed.
“I really hope we can continue to look up and admire it like this in the future.” “Don’t worry, we definitely can.
I’ll always be with you.
That’s my lifelong promise.” Ryosuke grinned.
Mikoto was stunned for a moment, then lowered her head, a blush appearing on her face.
“In that case, we have a promise.” “Mm, it’s a promise.”