Oppressive waves of tension surged over Tobi and White Zetsu's hearts like a raging tide. The two of them stood silent at the side, but the nerves stretched taut in their bodies revealed their anxiety and panic.
After all, everything had happened too quickly before their eyes, the twist of events had far exceeded their expectations, and they truly didn't know what to do.
"So that's it. The earlier fight—was it intentional?"
Tobi seemed to come to a realization.
He wasn't a slow-witted person; although he often did unpredictable things, his mind was still sharp.
Perhaps he hadn't reacted at first, but now that the situation had evolved like this, Tobi understood that the earlier battle was nothing more than a trap Ruri had set for them.
She wasn't just relying on brute force, obeying the rule of strength; even in fights and extermination battles, she had excellent strategic skills.
"It's too late to understand now. What's in there?"
Ruri's gaze fell into the darkness ahead, eyes narrowing slightly.
Ever since coming here, she had felt a strange and sinister atmosphere shrouding this place from the shadows in front of her.
Faintly, she could hear the weak sound of someone breathing.
"Wait!"
Tobi was about to step forward and intervene, but Ruri was even faster. Using the Instantaneous Body Jutsu, she vanished from her spot.
Tobi hurriedly turned to look—Ruri was already standing within the darkness, her Three-Tomoe Sharingan examining whatever was inside.
A massive monstrous shadow, seemingly made of wood, but the chakra that struck Ruri was chillingly cold, with a longer, almost suffocating sensation, as if bogged down in a quagmire.
In front of the monster, a human figure sat, breathing faintly.
Judging yet from the rhythm and sound of the breathing, this person was in terrible shape—too weak to even walk properly.
Ruri continued forward, walking leisurely toward the source of the sound.
Every step rang out clearly.
Finally, she stopped where the breathing came from.
An exceedingly aged man, face covered in wrinkles, was slumped in front of the enormous shadow, bowing his head and gasping—the picture of utter frailty.
Long white hair draped messily over him, his hands shriveled like dry branches.
He wore a ragged blue-gray robe, tears visible at the corners.
On his clothes, Ruri saw the Uchiha Clan's fan crest.
"An Uchiha clansman? But I didn't think you'd end up in such a sorry state. Who are you exactly?"
Ruri didn't know the old man's identity, but he was so aged that even walking seemed a difficult task.
Having heard her words, the elder slowly lifted his head, revealing a pair of Three-Tomoe Sharingan just like Ruri's.
His lips were parched, his face deeply lined—coarse as old tree bark.
"I never thought that, after all these years away from the clan, the Uchiha could still give rise to such an exceptional ninja as you…"
His words sounded like a sigh, tinged with nostalgia.
Ruri studied the old man's face, feeling as if she'd seen it somewhere before.
No matter how aged, there was something familiar—someone like this among the Uchiha, she had seen his face in the past.
Yet, in her memory, none of the currently retired Uchiha elders matched this old man.
Then, Ruri let her eyes shift to the side, spotting a strange long-handled weapon.
To call it a weapon wasn't entirely accurate; to most, it didn't look like one at all, but to Ruri, this was an item recorded in the annals of the Uchiha Clan.
And it had been lost for generations.
Ruri bent down, ignoring the elder's mutterings, and picked up the weapon, carefully examining it in her hand for a moment.
It wasn't light—a circle fan weapon, magatama patterns engraved on its surface.
A long handle connected by an iron chain, with a sharp scythe at the far end.
"This is the long-lost Flame Circle Fan of the Uchiha. How'd it end up in your hands?"
Ever since Uchiha Madara's defeat at the Valley of the End at the hands of Senju Hashirama, this signature Uchiha weapon had vanished without a trace.
Ruri had long assumed that after Madara's defeat, the weapon was hidden away by the Senju and never returned to the Uchiha Clan. But she never expected to encounter this legendary Uchiha divine artifact here.
"My name is Uchiha Madara."
The old man gazed at Ruri and, possibly showing a hint of composure, revealed his identity without hesitation.
Ruri fell silent, holding the Flame Circle Fan in hand.
"Lord Madara!"
Tobi cried out anxiously.
"That's enough, Tobi. There's no need to hide anything now."
Madara said with finality.
Ruri swept a glance at the old man who called himself 'Madara', then lifted the Flame Circle Fan slightly and said:
"This is a good weapon. From now on, it's mine. You don't look like you could swing it anyway, could you?"
"..."
Madara fell silent.
Indeed, as Ruri said, in his current state he could no longer lift a weapon to fight.
Suddenly, the ground cracked with splitting noises as several White Zetsus burrowed out from different directions, attacking Ruri.
Ruri didn't even think—her arm spun, the scythe connected to the Flame Circle Fan whistling through the air, slicing it open.
A White Zetsu's head tumbled to the ground, rolling right in front of Madara.
Madara didn't blink or show any emotional change from start to finish. He simply watched the White Zetsus die with indifference.
Ruri flicked the edge of the scythe with her finger, producing a faint, ringing vibration—it was frighteningly sharp.