The following month was the most fulfilling time Linbei had experienced since his transmigration.
Every morning, he carried Tom through most of Konoha to attend school.
While Yamato Nakajima explained theoretical knowledge in class, Tom would crouch on his lap with eyes closed, cultivating.
When they returned home in the evening, Tom continued to refine Chakra, while Linbei practiced hand seals and Taijutsu in the courtyard.
The results were visible to the naked eye.
By the end of the first week, the amount of Chakra in Linbei’s body had reached the level of an ordinary Genin.
He tried to refine Chakra himself—this time doing it manually—and found that his efficiency was much faster than the “normal speed” Yamato Nakajima had described.
The Chakra fed back from Tom’s cultivation was like pre-laid pipelines in his body.
When he refined it himself, the Chakra flowed along those pipes without any obstruction.
In the second week, he learned the Transformation jutsu.
It wasn’t the stumbling level of a beginner, but a degree where he could perfectly transform into another person and maintain it for over ten minutes.
When Yamato Nakajima checked it in class, he stared for a long time without finding a flaw, only saying a single “Good.”
In the third week, he mastered the Substitution and Clone Jutsu in succession.
Although the clones from his Clone Jutsu weren’t solid, they at least looked the part, avoiding low-level mistakes like “clones having cat ears.”
By the fourth week, Linbei’s hand seal speed had also improved.
He could complete the twelve basic seals in under two seconds, and for combinations of five seals, he was fast enough to finish in under a second.
“This hand seal speed would be considered upper-middle even among Genin,” Linbei assessed himself internally.
“Of course, it can’t compare to a freak like Hashirama—that guy just claps his hands and gets whatever he calls for.
Hand seals?
They don’t even exist for him.”
That evening, after finishing his bath, Linbei sat cross-legged on the tatami mat with a copy of “Advanced Theory of the Summoning Jutsu” borrowed from the Ninja Academy library spread out before him.
He wanted to try again.
A month had passed since he last summoned Tom.
According to his calculations, the cheat’s cooldown might be a year—but he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps the cooldown wasn’t fixed, perhaps it required satisfying certain conditions, perhaps…
“Bo—Dog—Bird—Monkey—Ram.”
After finishing the five hand seals, Linbei pressed both hands onto the tatami.
Chakra surged from his dantian, flowing through his arms to his fingertips—
And then, nothing happened.
No white smoke, no loud bang, no abnormality whatsoever.
Tom crouched nearby, tilting his head as he looked at Linbei, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
Linbei tried twice more, with the same result.
“Fine then.” He withdrew his hands and leaned against the wall.
“It seems I can’t just summon whenever I want.”
He flipped open “Advanced Theory of the Summoning Jutsu” to the chapter on contracted beasts.
The book stated clearly that the Summoning Jutsu requires signing a blood contract with the summoned creature, and typically, a ninja can only contract with one species of summoning animal.
“But my situation obviously doesn’t fall under ‘typical,'” Linbei closed the book and lay on the tatami, staring at the ceiling.
“Tom wasn’t signed through a contract; he was summoned out of nowhere.
Besides, he’s not a creature of this world.
There’s no such thing as a species for him.”
He rolled over and pulled the blanket to his shoulders.
“Since I can’t summon now, I won’t think about it.
When the time is right, it’ll happen naturally.”
The sound of Tom’s rhythmic breathing drifted over.
The cat was already asleep, lying sprawled out next to Linbei’s pillow with his tail draped over his face, letting out soft snores.
Linbei closed his eyes and soon fell into a deep sleep as well.
Konoha Year 49, May.
The weather gradually turned hot, and the Ninja Academy curriculum shifted from theory to practice.
That morning, Yamato Nakajima led the students of Class 3 to the training ground.
The field was large, with a row of wooden posts to the east and a sandy area to the west.
In the middle was a flat grassy area with several square zones marked out in white lines.
“Today is our class’s first practical combat lesson.” Yamato Nakajima stood at the front of the formation with his arms crossed.
“The rules are simple—teams of two will spar using Taijutsu and Ninjutsu.
No intentional wounding, and you must stop once a point is made!”
A flurry of whispers broke out in the line.
Some children were excited, some were nervous, and some were already secretly sizing up their classmates.
“Those who draw the same number are a pair.”
The students stepped forward one by one to draw.
Linbei reached into the cylinder, picked one at random, and looked—Number 7.
“Who is Number 7?” Yamato Nakajima shouted.
Two seconds of silence.
“It is I.”
The voice came from behind Linbei, as calm as if commenting on the weather.
Linbei turned around.
Itachi Uchiha was standing three paces behind him, holding a bamboo slip that clearly displayed the number “7.”
Linbei’s expression didn’t change, but in his heart, he sighed ten thousand times.
Out of more than thirty students in the entire Class 3, he just had to draw Itachi.
This luck was so bad you could almost say the heavens were targeting him.
“Good.
Number 7, first group.” Yamato Nakajima pointed to the largest square in the middle.
“Enter the ring.”
Linbei and Itachi walked to the center of the square and stood facing each other.
The distance between them was about three meters.
Itachi wore the standard Ninja Academy uniform, his ponytail tied meticulously, his expression as still as stagnant water.
His gaze fell on Linbei, devoid of any discernible emotion.
Linbei took a deep breath.
Standing opposite him was the Uchiha genius who could use the Fireball Jutsu at age six.
The prodigy who began pondering the meaning of life at age four.
The man who would personally slaughter his entire clan in the future.
And then there was Linbei, who was malnourished a month ago.
Today—his Chakra level reached Genin, he knew the Three-Body Technique, and his Taijutsu…
his Taijutsu was probably at the bottom of the class.
“Both sides, form the Seal of Confrontation.” Yamato Nakajima’s voice came from the sidelines.
Linbei and Itachi extended their right hands simultaneously, thumbs touching and four fingers pressed together.
The Seal of Confrontation.
The signal for the start of combat.
The moment Linbei’s thumb touched Itachi’s, he could feel the temperature from the other boy’s fingertips—not cold, not hot, just right.
Just like Itachi himself.
Not too close, not too far, just enough to make him impossible to see through.
“Begin.”
The moment the words left Yamato Nakajima’s mouth, Itachi moved.
His body was like a released spring, crossing the three-meter gap in an instant.
His right leg swept out, carrying the sound of whistling wind, heading straight for Linbei’s waist.
Linbei crossed his arms to block.
*Thud—*
A massive force traveled up his arms; Linbei felt as if he had been struck by an iron rod.
His feet left the ground, and he was sent flying backward, rolling twice on the ground before stopping.
His palms stung and his arms were numb.
What incredible power.
Linbei pushed himself up and looked at Itachi.
Itachi stood in place, maintaining his kicking posture before slowly retracting his leg, as if that kick had been nothing more than a warm-up.
“Meow—”
Tom let out a cry from the sidelines, making a move to charge into the ring.
Linbei shot him a look.
*Don’t come over.*
Tom’s steps halted.
He sat down by the edge of the field, his tail twitching restlessly, but ultimately he stayed put.
Linbei climbed up from the ground and patted the dust off his clothes.
He knew he couldn’t beat Itachi in Taijutsu.
Although he had compensated for his malnourished body somewhat over the past month, his foundation was too poor.
He wasn’t in the same league as a genius like Itachi who had received clan training since childhood.
So from the beginning, his plan wasn’t to win.
It was to lose.
Linbei’s hands quickly formed seals—Snake—Ram—Monkey—Bo—Horse—Tiger.
Clone Jutsu.
Two Linbeis rushed out from the smoke, lunging at Itachi from the left and right.
Itachi’s expression remained unchanged.
His right hand reached for his waist—where several practice shuriken were tucked.
*Swish, swish—*
Two shuriken flew from his hand, accurately striking the foreheads of the two clones.
The clones burst on impact, turning into two clouds of white smoke.
The white smoke spread, obscuring Itachi’s vision.
Now.
Linbei’s original body circled around from behind the smoke, crouching low, attempting to approach Itachi from the side.
He didn’t need to hit Itachi; he only needed to perform an “attempted attack” and then be “reasonably” subdued by Itachi.
But he had only taken two steps when he felt a chill at the back of his neck.
“You’re too slow.”
Itachi’s voice came from behind him, so close it felt like he was whispering into his ear.
Linbei’s body froze.
A wooden shuriken was held against his neck, the cold sensation traveling through his skin into his brain.
He had no idea when Itachi had circled behind him; he hadn’t detected it at all.
“I forfeit,” Linbei said decisively, raising his hands.
There was no frustration, no annoyance, not even a hint of regret.
His tone was as calm as if he were saying, “The weather is nice today.”
Itachi withdrew the shuriken and stepped back.
“Both sides, form the Seal of Reconciliation.” Yamato Nakajima’s voice rang out.
Linbei and Itachi faced each other and extended their left hands, palms touching.
The Seal of Reconciliation.
The battle was over.
Scattered applause came from the sidelines.
Most students were still shocked by the fight—even though it lasted less than a minute, the strength Itachi displayed clearly did not belong to someone of this age group.
Linbei turned and walked off the field.
As he passed Itachi, a very faint voice drifted into his ear.
“I hope to see your full strength next time.”
Linbei’s pace didn’t falter.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even turn his head, walking straight to the bench at the edge of the field and sitting down.
Tom immediately jumped onto his lap and rubbed his head against Linbei’s hand.
“Meow,” Tom called out, as if asking if he was okay.
“I’m fine.” Linbei rubbed Tom’s head, his gaze falling on the training ground.
The next pair of students had already entered.
They were two ordinary children whose Taijutsu levels were neck and neck; their fighting looked like two chicks pecking at each other.
Linbei watched them, but his mind was on Itachi’s words.
“I hope to see your full strength next time.”
What did that mean?
Was it a probe?
Or simple anticipation?
Linbei shook his head, tossing the question out of his mind.
Regardless of what it meant.
He absolutely could not befriend a lunatic, let alone a guy as inhuman as Itachi.
What he needed to do now was quietly play the role of an “ordinary Uchiha orphan.” Above-average grades, middle-of-the-road strength—not standing out, not falling behind.
Until the day his strength was great enough—
Until the day he could protect himself and those he wanted to protect—
Only then would he let others see his true self.
Tom crouched on his lap, his tail flickering slightly.
His gaze crossed the training ground and landed on the rooftop of the distant school building.
The rooftop was empty.
But Tom’s pupils contracted slightly, as if confirming something.
Then he withdrew his gaze, let out a yawn, curled up in Linbei’s arms, and narrowed his eyes.