“Suit yourself.” Shin tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a nearly cruel smile, completely unfazed by his aura.
“Uncle, you are clinging to the past glory of the Uchiha Clan, having long forgotten the most fundamental rule of this Ninja World—the weak are prey to the strong, and only the fittest survive.”
“Are you still thinking about seeking common ground with Konoha while maintaining differences?
Do you know how many Sharingan are hidden in the underground laboratory of the Root?
Do you know what is hidden beneath the bandages that Danzo Shimura wraps every day?”
He leaned forward, his gaze like two poison-tipped daggers, piercing straight into Fugaku’s eyes.
“Do you dare to go to the Hokage Building right now and force Danzo Shimura to take off his bandages so you can see clearly?”
“As an Elite Jonin, do you really believe that my parents died in an accident at the border?”
“Besides you and the Hokage, who else knew the route for the top-secret mission they were executing?
Why did they encounter such a precise ambush on their way back?”
“Over these years, haven’t there been enough clan members who died under unclear circumstances?
Can you really not see it at all?”
Each question struck Fugaku’s heart like a heavy hammer.
Shin’s voice grew deeper and colder.
“Uchiha Fugaku!
Fifty years ago, when Konoha was first established, we Uchiha Clan had over thirty thousand members, with three thousand Ninjas capable of taking the battlefield!
We were the undisputed number one prestigious family in the Ninja World!”
“And now?”
“The entire clan adds up to less than ten thousand, and we can’t even scrape together a thousand Ninjas capable of holding a Kunai!”
“In just fifty years, we have lost more than two-thirds of our clan members.
Do you really think the Uchiha Clan is still the same Uchiha Clan that could stand toe-to-toe with the Senju?”
“Do you know how many people the Sarutobi Clan has now?
Fifty thousand!
Over two thousand registered Ninjas!
And that’s just the number on the surface!”
“And the Homura Mitokado Clan; when Konoha was just founded, the whole clan only had about a hundred people.
And now?
Over ten thousand clansmen and eight hundred Ninjas!”
“What did they rely on to rise?
Don’t you have any idea?
They relied on the fallen Senju and the exterminated Uzumaki!
The family wealth accumulated by the two great clans over hundreds of years has fattened the four great clans of the Konoha leadership!”
“But fifty years have passed, and even the largest fortune can be emptied.
The three Ninja World Wars have long drained Konoha’s foundation!
Even now, more than half of the pensions for the Ninjas who died in the Third Ninja World War haven’t been paid out yet!”
Shin’s voice suddenly rose, carrying a desperate ruthlessness.
“What are they going to use to fill such a huge hole?”
“War reparations?
They were long ago divided up by the higher-ups!”
“Military funds from the Daimyo?
They aren’t even enough for daily expenses!”
“Are they supposed to pay out of their own pockets?
If it were you, would you spit out the meat you’ve already eaten?
Would you sacrifice your own clan’s interests to fill this hole?”
There was a deathly silence in the tea room.
Fugaku had sat back down at some point, cold sweat dripping down his jawline and splashing into the cold tea, creating ripples.
He was not a fool.
He saw these things; he just didn’t dare to think about them, and even less did he want to poke through that layer of paper.
Hiruzen Sarutobi’s words, “Konoha will always be the home of the Uchiha,” were like bait.
He had bitten into it for so many years that it had long since embedded into his flesh; pulling it out would mean dripping blood.
He had even held onto a ridiculous expectation, sending Itachi into the Anbu, thinking it was planting a piece on the board, but now it was shattered by a single sentence from Shin.
The death of Shisui, the fate of Kagami, and all those clansmen who had died in missions over the years under unclear circumstances—face after face flashed before his eyes.
His chest heaved violently, and he gasped for breath.
His Sharingan had long faded, but his gaze shifted away in a flustered manner; he dared not meet Shin’s ice-cold eyes again, and the hands resting on his knees couldn’t stop trembling.
“Shin, many things are not as simple as you think.”
After a long silence, Fugaku’s gaze was fixed firmly on the wood grain of the low table, his voice as heavy as lead.
“Hokage-sama has already promised me that he will give the Uchiha Clan an explanation…”
“Uncle, I have already found a place that no one knows about.” Shin looked at him, his tone calm but filled with unquestionable certainty.
“The Uchiha Clan cannot afford to wait any longer; we need to recuperate.”
“It’s too risky.
I will not agree.”
“Uncle, you should have heard that during the Second Ninja World War, there was a trap master named Gennou in the Village of Yanyang.” Shin’s voice was flat, without a ripple, yet every word carried a bone-chilling coldness.
“He buried a full one hundred thousand explosive tags under Konoha.”
Fugaku’s pupils contracted sharply, and he suddenly looked up, his scarlet Sharingan instantly surging forth.
He roared in a low voice, “Are you crazy?!”
“I’m not crazy.” Facing his overwhelming rage, Shin became completely calm, his eyes as cold as a frozen lake in winter.
“I am not like you, able to give up resistance for the sake of a son.
My Shadow Clone is with Uncle Kai right now.
As soon as the Shadow Clone disappears, Uncle Kai will immediately execute the plan.”
These words were like a thunderbolt, striking Fugaku and leaving him ice-cold all over.
Uchiha Kai was the life-and-death brother his father had pulled from a pile of corpses back in the day, and also one of the few Elite Jonin in the clan who had awakened the Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
Ever since his brother and sister-in-law passed away, this man had become Shin’s sharpest blade and most reliable backing, recognizing only Shin’s orders—he might not even listen to the words of him, the clan leader.
If one hundred thousand explosive tags were to truly explode, more than half of Konoha would be turned upside down.
By then, no matter how he explained it, Hiruzen Sarutobi would use this as a pretext to label the Uchiha Clan as rebels and rightfully exterminate the entire clan.
Fugaku felt a chill rush from the soles of his feet to his scalp; his scalp went numb, and he gritted his teeth and roared, “You are simply a madman!”
“Uncle, there are only two paths now.” Shin’s voice had no fluctuations, but it struck his heart like a heavy hammer.
“Either come with me, save Sasuke, and save the entire Uchiha Clan.
Or, hold onto your ethereal hopes and wait for the entire clan to die out completely.”
Fugaku’s chest heaved violently as he stared fixedly at the youth before him.
After a long while, he squeezed a sentence through his teeth: “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you right now?!”
“Of course I’m afraid.” Shin tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a smile without any warmth.
“That’s why I’ve already made arrangements; Uncle Kai and everyone willing to follow me are waiting for news.
If you don’t agree today, I will definitely die.
Since I’m dead either way, why wouldn’t I drag the entire Konoha down to be buried with the Uchiha Clan?”
A deathly silence spread in the tea room, lasting so long that Mikoto’s fingertips next to him turned white, and she even softened her breathing.
Fugaku looked at this eleven-year-old nephew in front of him, seeing the ruthlessness in his eyes—the determination to be shattered like jade rather than remain intact as a tile.
Finally, like a deflated skin bag, his shoulders slumped bit by bit, and his voice carried an uncontrollable tremor: “What exactly is your plan?”
“I have awakened a special ability that can take the entire clan to a New World that no one knows about.” Shin finally reined in his hostility, his tone becoming serious.
“That land is even vaster than the Land of Fire, with no eyes from Konoha, no enemies watching like tigers, and no one knows our origins.”
“Before we leave, we must sell off all the clan’s properties at low prices in exchange for sufficient supplies and provisions.
At the same time, we will activate the clan’s defensive formations to buy time and then detonate the explosive tags to create chaos throughout the city.
Taking advantage of the chaos, I will open a portal and take all the clansmen and supplies to leave Konoha completely in the shortest possible time.
Except for me, no one will know where we are going.”
He paused and added the most critical point: “We don’t have much time to hesitate.
My ability has shown me that Danzo Shimura has already joined forces with Orochimaru and has developed a method to suppress Hashirama cells.”
“Hashirama cells?” Fugaku was stunned, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears, his voice cracking.
“Are you talking about… the cells of the First Hokage, Hashirama-sama?”
“What else?” Shin sneered.
“Danzo Shimura has been secretly digging up the First Hokage’s grave for over a decade to study his cells.
Hashirama cells can defy heaven and change fate, significantly enhancing a person’s physical fitness and Chakra volume; those with strong enough talent can even directly awaken Wood Release.
But you know in your heart how terrifying the vitality of the First Hokage’s cells is; ordinary people simply cannot withstand it and will only be devoured by the cells, turning into a puddle of rotten meat.
You can guess how many lives Danzo has wasted to conduct his experiments.”
His gaze suddenly turned cold, like a poison-tipped dagger: “In the end, he set his sights on our Uchiha Clan.
He discovered that the Uchiha Clan’s Three-Tomoe Sharingan happens to be able to suppress the backlash of Hashirama cells.”
These words were like a knife, piercing through Fugaku’s last layer of self-deception.
All the strength was drained from his body, and he slumped in his seat, with only bone-deep despair left in his eyes.
So from the beginning to the end, the Konoha leadership never left the Uchiha Clan a single way to survive.
What they were eyeing was never whether the Uchiha Clan would rebel, but their Sharingan and their bloodline that could suppress Hashirama cells.
He thought of Itachi, who rarely came home after the death of Shisui and couldn’t even be bothered to attend clan meetings, and his heart felt as if it were being tightly gripped by a hand, hurting so much that he couldn’t breathe.
“Can you guarantee that that world can really let us Uchiha survive?” He lowered his head, his voice raspy as if rubbed by sandpaper, not daring to look into Shin’s eyes.
Shin lifted his chin, his brows and eyes filled with a ruthlessness and certainty inconsistent with his age, every word resounding with force: “As long as you follow me, not only will the Uchiha Clan survive, but we will rise again!
A vendetta of nine generations can still be avenged; all the humiliation that Konoha has inflicted upon the Uchiha Clan today, in the future, I will pay back a hundredfold!”
Fugaku looked at the youth before him, remembering his words from just a moment ago about “dragging the entire Konoha down to be buried with them,” and only four words came to mind—vengeful and unforgiving.
He had guarded for so many years, endured for so many years, retreating at every step and compromising everywhere, only to be met with extermination.
Since his path wouldn’t work, then he might as well gamble on this one time.
He took a deep breath, as if exhaling all the forbearance and grievances of decades.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a desperate ruthlessness: “Fine!
Shin!
I will trust you this once!
Since Hiruzen Sarutobi is unwilling to leave us a way to survive, then we, the Uchiha Clan, are not fish on a chopping block to be slaughtered at will!”