Dusk settled over the Senju Clan compound.
Senju Shigure stood alone inside his house, staring blankly into space and reflecting on just how miserable his life had been.
He had transmigrated into the world of Naruto several decades ago, yet his strength remained stuck at the peak of the genin level.
He might well have been the most unfortunate transmigrator in history.
Back on Earth, he had been an ordinary shut-in with nothing remarkable about him.
After transmigrating, he became a member of the prestigious Senju Clan—yet he was too weak even to serve as useful cannon fodder.
He had spent decades living in obscurity, and he owed it all to his utterly useless system.
In the novels he used to read, which protagonist didn’t receive an absurdly powerful system?
They would crush every obstacle in their path and rise to the top without breaking a sweat.
Shigure’s system, by comparison, was less of an advantage and more of a shackle.
By the time he was thirteen, every one of his Attributes had reached its system-imposed cap.
That was when the tragedy began.
Despite being a member of the Senju Clan, his strength could rise no higher than peak genin.
No matter how hard he trained, he never made the slightest progress.
His Attribute Caps had completely blocked the path to power he had once dreamed of following.
Disheartened and unwilling to risk his life in the brutal world of shinobi, Shigure withdrew from the front lines.
Instead, he began handling logistical work such as preparing field rations, forging weapons, and analysing intelligence.
Decades passed that way.
I suppose this is all my life will ever amount to.
The thought often left him bitter, though he never let anyone else see it.
His unconventional ideas had at least proved valuable to the clan.
More than once, they had played an important role in battles against enemy clans, allowing a weakling like him to earn a reluctant place among the Senju.
As Shigure was lost in those gloomy thoughts, footsteps approached outside.
A familiar voice soon came through the door.
“Granduncle Shigure, the Uzumaki Clan has arrived.
The clan head asked me to remind you to attend tomorrow’s wedding.” “I understand, Tobirama.” The young man outside was Tobirama Senju, the younger of Shigure’s eldest brother’s two grandsons.
Of all the younger members of the clan, Tobirama was also the one closest to him.
Over the past several years, Tobirama had strongly supported many of Shigure’s logistical proposals and helped implement them throughout the clan.
Adding vegetables to dumplings helped the shinobi on the front lines obtain essential vitamins.
Repeatedly hammering the iron used to forge kunai produced tougher and more durable weapons.
Organising shinobi into three-person cells allowed them to perform reconnaissance and disrupt enemy operations more efficiently.
Those were only a few of his ideas.
“They want me there?
Aren’t they worried I’ll embarrass the clan?” Shigure sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair.
A helpless smile spread across his wrinkled face.
As the uncle of the Senju Clan’s current leader, he belonged to one of the clan’s most senior generations.
His ideas had made some contributions over the years, but this was an era in which strength determined a person’s worth.
Most of the clan’s shinobi still looked down on him.
His two older brothers were especially dismissive.
To them, their youngest brother—who possessed only the strength of a genin—might as well not have existed.
Still, his seniority had earned Shigure a ceremonial seat on the Senju council.
It was an empty position without any real authority.
He had no say in the clan’s affairs, and whenever the council gathered to discuss important matters, he usually remained at home and slept through the meeting.
A genin was simply too insignificant within the Senju Clan.
Many of the clan’s ten-year-old children had already surpassed him.
“Forget it.
I might as well get some sleep.” Shigure lay down on his hard wooden bed, but his thoughts refused to settle.
His life might have been painfully ordinary, but surviving this long during the Warring States era was an accomplishment in itself.
Countless shinobi far stronger than him had died on the battlefield.
In that respect, he had been luckier than most.
Time passed quietly, and before he knew it, midnight was approaching.
Shigure tossed and turned without the slightest hint of drowsiness.
Left with no better option, he began counting sheep.
It was the oldest trick he knew, but it occasionally helped with his frequent insomnia.
One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep… The longer he counted, the more irritated he became.
He finally gave up and opened his Attribute panel instead.
His gaze drifted across the embarrassingly low numbers, and he fell into another daze.
As always, one new Free Attribute Point had appeared at the bottom of the panel.
Shigure ignored it.
There was nowhere to spend it.
According to his experience, the system granted him one Free Attribute Point every year.
Unfortunately, his Attributes had reached their caps more than thirty years ago, leaving him unable to use any of the points he received.
Worse still, unused Free Attribute Points expired.
Whenever a new year began, the point from the previous year disappeared.
He had long since accepted that infuriating rule.
His gaze swept over the unchanged Attributes before settling on his age.
Fifty.
Shigure stared at the number with a bitter smile.
Then he froze.
He rubbed his tired eyes and looked again, widening them as far as they would go.
“What the hell?!” Beside the number fifty was a tiny plus sign.
It was so faint that he could barely see it.
Shigure had inspected this panel countless times over the past several decades, yet he had never noticed it before.
If he hadn’t been feeling sentimental tonight and focused so closely on his age, he might never have discovered it at all.
“What does that plus sign do?
And why is it so damned small?
Is this system deliberately screwing with me?” He had missed it for more than thirty years.
Considering how absurdly tiny it was, the system clearly hadn’t wanted to make things easy for him.
With little to lose, Shigure selected the plus sign.
Something incredible happened.
His displayed age changed from fifty to forty-nine.
At the same time, his single Free Attribute Point vanished.
Shigure’s eyes bulged.
He squeezed them shut, then opened them and checked the panel again.
His age was still forty-nine.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!
I’ve been robbed blind!” He felt like crying.
Free Attribute Points could reduce his age.
More than thirty years’ worth of points had expired unused because he had never noticed that tiny plus sign.
Merely thinking about such an enormous waste made his heart ache.
“It’s not too late.
I still have a chance!” Shigure began laughing, only for the laughter to turn into tearful sobs.
“I have to stay alive.
No matter what happens, I’m surviving to the very end!” The spirit that had lain dormant inside him for decades suddenly surged back to life.
As he imagined the years ahead, his eyes shone brighter than they had in a very long time.
Shigure did not sleep at all that night.
Add to library.
Send some Power Stones.