Chapter 28: Uchiha Madara (Part 1)
This secret underground base, hidden deep beneath the earth near the Village Hidden in the Rain, had only recently been constructed and put into use. In the farthest corners of the base, the marks of human excavation could still be seen, and some areas had yet to be tidied up, leaving the entire facility in a state of considerable disarray. The master of the base had chosen to settle in the Land of Rain, a country plagued by poor conditions, out of sheer necessity. There were things, or rather people, here that he required. Taking into account the environment, the distance, his objectives, and numerous other factors, no place was more suitable for concealment.
The Land of Rain sat at the intersection of the borders of the Land of Fire, the Land of Wind, and the Land of Earth—three great nations. Within its boundaries, myriad factions vied for power. The current leader of the Hidden Rain Village, Hanzo the Salamander, was among the foremost masters of recent years and commanded significant authority in the surrounding region.
Where else in the shinobi world could one more perfectly mask one’s identity and movements for a long-term infiltration?
At that moment, the master of the base stood within a vast cavern deep inside the facility, his gaze fixed upon the monstrous, fearsome humanoid entity he had just summoned from the moon. The creature sat cross-legged at the cavern’s center; even seated, its immense body nearly brushed the ceiling, making the enormous space feel stiflingly cramped. Most of the monster’s body remained cloaked in the cavern’s blackness, its precise features obscured. Yet through the shadows, one could just make out ten severed protrusions jutting from its back.
Its outward appearance did not resemble living flesh but rather seemed to be carved from some unknown wood. Only by direct contact could one sense the explosive vitality that simmered beneath its wooden exterior.
“What a tenacious life force,” the master murmured, running his hand over the summoned creature, his tone thick with greedy yearning as he savored the boundless vitality seething within its form.
The creature’s massive head was most striking for the nine eyes set into its face, which appeared to gaze down at the insignificant human before it. Regrettably, none of those eyes held the faintest spark of awareness. Though outwardly terrifying and brimming with potential power, the monster was but an empty shell, devoid of any soul—its form slack, almost inert.
This was the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path, the legendary empty vessel of the Ten-Tails.
Compared to the monstrous statue, the base’s master seemed pitifully small: a decrepit old man, appearing over seventy, his long hair the color of withered ash, his clothes little more than tatters that barely concealed his emaciated frame. Anyone could see his body was far more withered than that of an ordinary elder, making it no wonder he coveted the monstrous life force before him.
He was none other than Uchiha Madara, the man thought to have died thirty years ago—a legend in his own right.
...
Uchiha Madara, former head of the Uchiha clan, the mightiest family of the Hidden Leaf Village, was not only the reincarnation of Indra, eldest son of the Sage of Six Paths, but also the strongest Uchiha in history. He had mastered the “Perfect Susanoo,” a power that rivaled the tailed beasts themselves, and together with Hashirama Senju, was celebrated as a “Legendary Shinobi.”
Thirty-five years ago, Madara joined forces with Hashirama, the First Hokage, to found the first shinobi village in history, naming it “Konoha.” That year marked the beginning of the Leaf.
For a time after the village’s founding, Madara and Hashirama enjoyed a period of cordial cooperation. But the harmony was short-lived. For various reasons, Madara ultimately defected from the very village he had helped to create.
It was during this period that Madara uncovered the secret of his clan’s ancestral stone tablet within the Uchiha shrine—a revelation of a great truth hidden from the shinobi world. Unfortunately, his Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan could not decipher all its contents.
Four years later, Madara returned, wielding control over the Nine-Tails, and attacked Konoha, vowing to destroy the village he had once formed. That fateful year, he and Hashirama battled at the Valley of the End. In the end, Madara was defeated. The world at large believed he had died in that titanic clash, his body recovered by the Leaf and subjected to research.
Yet now, the man who had supposedly perished more than thirty years ago appeared alive near the Hidden Rain Village.
...
Though now aged and gaunt as a skeleton, Madara’s eyes still shone with a fierce, undimmed light. His left eye was not the typical Sharingan of the Uchiha bloodline. The entire eyeball lacked a pupil; instead, several concentric circles radiated outward from the center, forming a pale, uncanny eye. Coupled with his skeletal visage, hidden away in this sunless abyss, he was the very image of something grim and eldritch.
This was the Rinnegan—the eye said to have belonged to the Sage of Six Paths, founder of all shinobi. Madara had pursued this eye for nearly thirty years since his legendary battle with Hashirama at the Valley of the End.
Those thirty years were not spent in peace or leisure, but in constant hiding—his name erased, his body battered by the unceasing drain of physical and spiritual energy.
...
The suffering he endured was unimaginable to ordinary men. If not for his indomitable spirit, Madara might never have survived it. Time and again, he questioned the truth of the words inscribed on his clan’s ancestral tablet. Had they been falsified, altered?
In the end, the tablet’s promises proved genuine. He had indeed awakened the legendary Rinnegan, the eyes of the Sage of Six Paths.
...
Standing before the Demonic Statue in the cavern, Madara once more gazed greedily at the monster, coveting the vitality it held. He extended his claw-like right hand and touched his left eyelid.
“Hashirama, my greatest friend, my one true bond. To prove you wrong, to confirm that I am right; for the sake of my ideals, for the sake of these eyes… No price is too great for me to bear…”
Madara, though unsteady on his feet, walked resolutely toward the massive beast he had summoned.
“I cannot fall yet. The shinobi world is still far from the ideal I envisioned. I have not yet proved that Hashirama was wrong—how could I allow myself to collapse now?”
“This so-called harmony in the shinobi world is a lie—a falsehood. War is the true nature of this world…”
From the shadows beside the Demonic Statue, seven or eight human-sized, humanoid figures emerged—creatures that, for now, could only be called “people.”
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