After the brief formalities ended, production quickly entered full swing.
Deidara was utterly astonished. He had never imagined that his art—when combined with large-scale mechanical manufacturing—could unleash such terrifying power.
According to the final report from the Western Wind Delivery Project, the ninja world now possessed the ability to strike any target it locked onto.
The implications left Deidara burning with excitement.
Only then did he finally find time to reunite with Sasori.
"Brother Scorpion," Deidara asked curiously, "when did you infiltrate the Umbrella Organization?"
What amused him even more was Sasori's true form—who would've thought that the infamous Akatsuki member was now using the body of a young boy?
Sasori shot him a sideways glance, instantly seeing through Deidara's thoughts.
"What do you know?" he said calmly. "I'm pursuing art."
"Oh?" Deidara's eyes lit up. "So Brother Scorpion finally acknowledges my art?"
He looked genuinely thrilled.
"My art?"
Heh.
Sasori sneered and said nothing more.
"What kind of reaction is that?" Deidara protested. "Isn't the dazzling brilliance of an explosion the purest form of art?"
His expression grew hazy, almost reverent.
"I'm talking about mechanical technology," Sasori replied coldly. "Not your explosion nonsense."
In his eyes, without a foundation of advanced engineering, Deidara's so-called art wouldn't even exist. Now that he had mastered mechanical systems, Sasori finally understood how crude traditional puppet techniques truly were.
Puppet techniques were merely a primitive branch of mechanical engineering.
By integrating modern mechanical technology into his craft, Sasori had elevated his puppets to an entirely new level. The massive puppet he personally designed—nicknamed 'Gundam'—had already gone through several generations of upgrades.
And his own combat power had evolved alongside it.
He was no longer the Sasori of the past.
"Damn it!" Deidara snapped. "Didn't you see that explosion just now? That instantaneous brilliance!"
Sasori was still Sasori—unchanged to the core.
"Without our technical support," Sasori replied indifferently, "how do you think your 'art' could be launched across such distances?"
Mechanical immortality—that was beauty. An explosion, fleeting and temporary, couldn't compare.
"Damn you, Brother Scorpion! I want to duel you!"
Deidara leapt to his feet, radiating indignation.
The nearby researchers didn't even react. They were long used to this—whenever these two met, sparks were inevitable.
"Anytime," Sasori sneered. "I'm not afraid of you."
Not far away, two observers watched the scene unfold.
"Aren't you worried they'll blow up the research base?" one of them joked.
Sawai remained calm.
"Since they already know each other," he said lightly, "let them bond properly."
With that, he turned and left, casually handing the documents in his hand to Hirata.
At the top of the file was a single name: Sasori.
"Tsk… those higher-ups really know how to have fun," Hirata muttered. "Aren't they afraid the Organization will get blown sky-high?"
Shaking his head, he left as well.
Using his authority, Hirata had already uncovered Deidara's identity. Interestingly, Deidara wasn't even a shinobi—yet his status far exceeded that of most ninja.
As for Sasori, his identity had been exposed after becoming Sawai's disciple. Anyone involved in the Western Wind Delivery Project underwent strict background screening.
Had Sasori remained hidden in his original base, he might never have been discovered. But a project of this magnitude left no room for secrecy.
Still, intelligence reports showed that Sasori caused no trouble beyond researching technology.
In fact, Shisui and the others now wished they could recruit every member of the Akatsuki.
Thus, Sasori was allowed to stay.
Whether he could be fully turned would be determined later.
While they valued Sasori's abilities, they didn't fear him in the slightest. A so-called Kage-level threat had long ceased to matter to them.
Meanwhile, Deidara's progress continued smoothly.
Elsewhere, as Nagato contemplated his next move, a masked figure suddenly appeared before him.
"Why haven't you summoned the Organization members back yet?"
Obito's voice was low and displeased.
Nagato met his gaze coldly.
"I already have," he replied. "Deidara has been dispatched on a secret mission. Sasori remains undercover."
A dangerous glint flashed behind Obito's mask.
"Is that so?"
Whoosh—!
A sharp sense of danger surged.
Nagato twisted aside just in time. If not for the prosthetic limb Naruto had provided, he wouldn't have avoided that attack.
His eyes hardened.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
Nagato spoke coldly, his body already tensing—ready to strike at any moment.
At Obito's side, a figure had silently appeared.
It was the one who had just launched the sneak attack.
Nagato's brows furrowed.
"Edo Tensei…"
There was no trace of life in the man before him. Nagato was familiar with this forbidden ninjutsu.
What puzzled him was that he didn't recognize this shinobi at all.
Yet from the way the man had moved—swift, decisive, lethal—there was no doubt about it.
This was someone who had once stood at Kage-level.
"Someone from the Hyūga Clan?"
Nagato quickly reached a conclusion.
Those eyes—pure white, veins bulging faintly at the temples.
The Byakugan.
Anyone in the ninja world knew their origin.
In Nagato's eyes, Obito must have unearthed a Hyūga ancestor. The clan's history stretched back centuries—finding one or two powerful figures among their dead was hardly surprising.
Still, Nagato felt nothing but disdain.
Digging up ancestral corpses for battle was contemptible.
"So you want to attack me?" Nagato sneered. "Then come and try."
In an instant, the Six Paths of Pain moved, forming a tight perimeter around him.
Nagato remained confident.
Obito's space–time ninjutsu was troublesome, yes—but the power of the Rinnegan was absolute.
"Do you know why I'm attacking you?" Obito said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Do you truly believe the Rinnegan belongs to you?"
Nagato's gaze remained steady.
"It was merely something I bestowed upon you," Obito continued. "And now, I've decided to take it back."
He waited.
Expected shock.
Fear.
Desperation.
But Nagato's expression didn't change in the slightest.
Obito frowned and pressed on.
"Isn't it laughable?" he sneered. "An Uzumaki wielding the Rinnegan? That eye is the supreme dojutsu of my clan. It belongs to Uchiha Madara. You were nothing more than a pawn."
"Hahahahaha—!"
Nagato suddenly burst into laughter.
"Uchiha Obito."
"How long do you plan to keep acting?" Nagato mocked openly.
"When did Uchiha Madara fall so low?"
There was no longer any need for pretense.
Nagato had known for a long time that the Rinnegan was not originally his.
But after so many years—after fully synchronizing with it—his body and bloodline had already fused with the eyes.
He, too, was a descendant of the Sage of Six Paths.
They shared the same origin.
Obito's killing intent exploded.
Nagato had to die.
The thought surfaced instantly.
"No matter how you learned this secret," Obito said darkly, "you won't leave this place alive."
His expression twisted.
He had wanted to savor Nagato's despair—to enjoy watching him break.
But now?
Like a child desperate to bury a secret, Obito only wanted one thing.
Nagato's death.
"Let me tell you something else," Obito added, his voice dripping with malice.
"The death of your dear friend Yahiko…"
"That was arranged by me as well."
"Hahahahaha—!"
Obito laughed loudly.
This time, Nagato's expression finally changed.
The air itself seemed to freeze.
A terrifying killing intent flooded the confined space.
"Shinra Tensei!"
Nagato attacked without another word.
Obito activated his Mangekyō ability, his body phasing as he looked down at Nagato with icy eyes.
The room was far too small.
The repulsive force detonated instantly—
BOOM!
The entire building was blown apart.
(End of Chapter)
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