Several ninja cats of varying fur colors lounged within the daimyō's residence—some curled in the arms of noble ladies, others perched atop beams, grooming themselves as they quietly observed everything unfolding within the estate.
Before long, the intelligence was transmitted through covert channels and delivered into the hands of Uchiha Yakumi, who had arrived in the capital alongside the aristocratic convoy from Mugen Castle.
The scolding that left Mitokado Homura utterly humiliated before the daimyō and his court was of little importance.
A powerless advisor, unable to salvage the situation, was bound to bear the brunt of misplaced anger.
What truly mattered was that, at this critical juncture, the trust the daimyō and his inner circle once held toward Konoha was collapsing at an unprecedented rate.
In the past, the dangers of war—life-and-death crises—were borne only by shinobi and unfortunate civilians.
But now?
Even the daimyō himself had become a target of military threat.
How could that be tolerated?
Konoha, once a reliable shield, had shown cracks. It could no longer be trusted completely.
So then…
Who could—and who should—protect the Land of Fire, safeguard the daimyō's authority and security?
Yakumi paced to the window and gazed at the cold, distant moon.
Moonlight fell upon his composed face, illuminating the sharp glint of ambition in his eyes.
Opportunity was fleeting.
He turned back to his desk, unrolled a specially prepared encrypted scroll, dipped his brush in ink, and paused briefly before writing.
With each stroke, both the gathered intelligence and his own intentions were inscribed into words.
Once finished, he carefully rolled up the scroll and sealed it with a simple clan mark.
"Meow~"
A soft, cheerful meow sounded.
A gray-blue ninja cat with lively eyes sat at the corner of the desk, nibbling on dried fish, its tail swaying leisurely.
Yakumi smiled, took out another piece of dried fish to feed it, then handed over the scroll.
"Deliver this to Mugen Castle at once. Present it directly to Lord Anlan."
The small cat deftly caught the scroll with its paws—nearly as large as its own body—and skillfully stuffed it into a specially designed pouch beneath its neck.
After licking its paw, it gave a small nod.
With a soft whoosh, it dissolved into white smoke, returning to the ninja cat clan's domain.
Moonlight poured like silver across the vast mountain forests of eastern Fire Country.
The fierce pursuit—from city to wilderness—that had raged throughout the day was nearing its end.
A faint scent of blood and scorched earth lingered in the air, made even colder and more oppressive by the night wind.
Uchiha Fugaku stood at the edge of a high vantage point within the forest, his crimson armor reflecting a dark, blood-like sheen beneath the moonlight.
Behind him, the elite First Division of the Red Armor Army spread out silently.
Since receiving orders from Mugen Castle, the high-intensity pursuit had continued for an entire day.
Fuguki Suikazan, like a mortally wounded beast, fled through the mountains with a mere dozen loyal Kirigakure subordinates.
Relying on terrain and Water Release techniques, they struggled to shake off the blood-red shadow relentlessly pursuing them.
But their opponents were the Red Armor Army—wielders of the Sharingan and the Byakugan.
Every clever attempt at concealment was effortlessly exposed by the Byakugan.
Every desperate counterattack was dismantled with ease before the Sharingan.
Outnumbered and outmatched, their fate had been sealed from the very beginning.
"Northeast, seven hundred meters. Three targets beneath a cliff crevice."
"Due west, four hundred fifty meters. Five hidden in the stream—primary target included."
"Southeast, three hundred meters. Two disguised in trees."
Low, precise reports were transmitted silently between units through hand signals and controlled chakra fluctuations.
Fugaku gave a slight nod and simply raised his hand, signaling: Close the net.
In the next instant, the silence shattered.
"Fire Release: Phoenix Flower Jutsu!"
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
"Earth Release: Swamp of the Underworld!"
Blazing fireballs sealed off escape routes. Violent winds intensified the flames and disrupted perception. Solid ground turned into a devouring mire.
At the same time, several three-tomoe Sharingan jōnin from the Red Armor Army surged into the target zones. Genjutsu erupted at close range, coordinated with swift taijutsu and lethal blade work.
Resistance was brief—and futile.
Exhaustion, injury, near-depleted chakra, and the inherent disadvantage against the Sharingan led to the swift collapse of the remaining Kirigakure forces.
Screams, muffled groans, and the clatter of dropped weapons echoed briefly before fading into silence.
At the center of it all, Fuguki Suikazan leaned against a massive rock, gasping heavily.
Madness and unwilling defiance burned in his eyes as he glared at Uchiha Fugaku, who emerged slowly from the shadows.
"You Uchiha… scum…"
He rasped, trying to gather the last of his chakra.
"Pathetic."
"A useless howl."
Fugaku gave him no chance.
The tomoe in his Sharingan spun rapidly, unleashing a powerful mental assault that struck directly into Fuguki's already shattered consciousness.
At the same time, two Red Armor jōnin flanked him like lightning, their kunai piercing the tendons of his limbs—non-lethally but decisively—before binding him in chains.
"AAARGH—!"
Fuguki roared in agony, his body locking up from pain and chakra suppression as he collapsed heavily to his knees, reduced to ragged breathing.
Fugaku stepped forward, looking down at him with indifference.
"Take him away. Check all remaining prisoners. Apply restraints. Escort them together."
"Yes!"
Soon, Fuguki Suikazan and the last remaining fugitives were shackled with chakra-sealing restraints and taken back to Mugen Castle.
The eastern region of the Land of Fire—between Konoha and Mugen Castle—had been thoroughly purged.
"White shirt, black stockings, high heels… Next time, wear that for me."
Watching that bastard leave right after pulling up his pants—and even having the nerve to comment—Tsunade clenched her teeth in frustration, deeply regretting that she hadn't poisoned him.
'Next time?'
"In your dreams! Next time, you're dead!"
She glanced at the torn stockings beside her, yanked the blanket over her head, and shut out the world.
As Uchiha Anlan stepped out of the laboratory, he stretched lazily, clearly in a good mood.
A young body matched against a woman in her prime—truly a clash of equals, like generals meeting on the battlefield, locked in an intense and evenly matched struggle.
With his hands behind his back, he strolled leisurely down the clean, straight corridor.
He passed through several metal gates that required specific chakra signatures or hand seals to open.
The final gate closed behind him.
The space ahead suddenly opened.
It was a vast, square chamber.
Dark metal panels lined the walls, smooth as mirrors. Lights illuminated the corners. The air circulation system ran silently, maintaining a constant temperature and humidity.
There were no tools. No clutter.
In this enormous space, the only feature was the massive, intricate, and dazzlingly complex array engraved at the very center of the floor.
Anlan walked to its edge and stopped, his gaze sweeping over it with scrutiny—and satisfaction.
This was not a traditional summoning array.
Nor was it like the Second Hokage's Flying Thunder God Technique, which focused on individual spatial teleportation.
This was something else entirely.
A creation born from the integration of sealing techniques, summoning principles, and spatial magic knowledge obtained from Overlord.
The structure consisted of layered geometric formations—
An outer octagonal sealing ring stabilizing space.
Within it, a precisely calculated spatial coordinate mapping layer.
At the core, a drive-and-link system combining summoning contracts with the principles of "caller and summoned."
The array was not drawn—it was forged.
A special alloy mixed with chakra-conductive metal powder had been melted and etched directly into the floor.
Every line ran deep, glowing faintly blue beneath the white light.
Key nodes were embedded with specially treated metals capable of storing and transmitting large amounts of chakra, functioning as stable conduits.
The result—
A stable, reusable, fixed teleportation gate.
A summoning node capable of mid-to-short-range, point-to-point transport of personnel or materials.
As long as a corresponding receiving array existed, instantaneous traversal between two points could be achieved—ignoring all conventional distance.
Anlan crouched and pressed a finger onto a core rune.
A faint glow of chakra flickered at his fingertip.
In response, the entire array lit up from the center outward, rippling layer by layer like a waking metallic construct.
"Energy pathways stable. Spatial anchors secure. Coordinate mapping precise…"
Anlan chuckled softly.
"Next comes the actual connection test. I've already set up a smaller array at the clan grounds… we can begin tomorrow."
He stood and looked over the array—the foundation of his grand strategy, the symbol of his future domination over the shinobi world and conquest of countless realms.
A smile spread across his lips.
A low chuckle rose—then swelled into unrestrained, manic laughter.
"Heh… hehehe… ahahaha… HAHAHAHA!"
Moonlight could not reach this place.
But artificial light and the glowing array illuminated his figure.
Just as his laughter peaked—his ambition nearly tangible—
"Lord Anlan—!"
"It's dinner time, meow—!"
A lively voice pierced through the echoing laughter.
With a poof of white smoke, Daiju appeared out of nowhere, tumbling clumsily to his feet.
"…"
The laughter died instantly—cut short.
"Lady Mikoto says to come back quickly! The food will get cold, meow! Tonight there's your favorite salt-grilled mackerel and tofu miso soup!!"
"And your laugh is too loud—it hurts my ears!"
Anlan's expression froze.
The wild arrogance on his face stiffened, his eyes shifting from grand ambition… to blank disbelief.
Slowly, his gaze dropped.
To the orange furball at his feet, tugging anxiously at his pants—concerned only about whether the fish would get cold.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Then decided against it.
Silently, he grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck.
His posture slightly deflated, he turned and walked back the way he came.
Under the moonlit sky, the dark blue sea was torn apart by the shadows of warships.
The massive Kirigakure fleet surged forward, cutting through waves toward the shores of the Land of Fire.
On the command ship's deck, the atmosphere was the complete opposite of the cold night.
"Total annihilation?! Fuguki and Jūzō—both useless trash!"
With green hair, sharp teeth, and bandages wrapped around his upper body, Kurotsuchi Raiga—wielder of the Lightning Blades, Kiba—spoke in a low, furious tone.
"They were seasoned elites from blood-soaked battlefields. How could they act so foolishly?"
"Three thousand troops… split into two waves and sent to die."
"The possibility of them being Konoha spies cannot be ruled out."
Kushimaru Kuriarare, calm and analytical, spoke as he adjusted the bandages around his neck.
Jinin Akebino slammed the blunt blade Kabutowari onto the deck with a heavy thud.
"This is a disgrace to Kirigakure!"
"I'll crush every Uchiha bone with this blade!"
"Hahaha! Kill! Kill them all!"
Jinpachi Munashi laughed maniacally, gripping the explosive blade Shibuki.
"Let the art of explosions send this 'Mugen Castle'—and Uchiha pride—straight to hell!"
Killing intent surged from the four swordsmen, forcing ordinary shinobi on deck to instinctively step back.
The destruction of their comrades had not instilled fear—
It had ignited their bloodlust.
"Send orders to all ships!"
Raiga raised the Lightning Blades high.
"Remove navigation restrictions! Full power to all engines!"
"Wind Release squads, assist acceleration! By tomorrow noon—we land on the shores of the Land of Fire!"
At once, the fleet surged forward.
Engines roared louder. Waves churned violently behind the ships.
Green chakra glowed as Wind Release users boosted speed, propelling the fleet forward like arrows loosed from a bow.
Nearby, the Six-Tails Jinchūriki, Utakata, remained unmoved.
Seated quietly, he continued blowing colorful soap bubbles.
The fragile bubbles wavered in the fierce sea wind, reflecting the busy deck, the cold weapons, the looming war.
He lifted his hidden eye slightly, glanced at Raiga and the others… then at the shattered waves below.
Then lowered his head—
And continued blowing bubbles.
To him, this war—carrying the weight of thousands of lives—
Was no different from the fleeting bubbles he created.
The fleet raced forward beneath the moon.