Uchiha Madara felt a twinge of disbelief. Never before had he encountered such a situation.
Despite being in peak combat condition, another shinobi had managed to tail him silently, slipping within ten meters of him without a hint of detection. For someone as confident in his abilities as Madara, this only underscored the extraordinary nature of Genma's stealth.
Madara paused briefly, then continued walking forward, his expression unreadable.
Outside his field of vision, he had no sense of Genma's presence. This sparked both intense caution and burning curiosity. He wasn't worried about being in danger, but he was deeply intrigued by how Genma had pulled it off.
"Is he still there, or not?" Madara muttered to himself after covering some distance. His senses, however, offered no clues to make a definitive judgment.
He glanced back again.
Sure enough, Genma was still there, though the distance between them seemed to have widened slightly.
Madara pressed on, pondering how Genma achieved such flawless concealment beyond mere optical invisibility. He also wondered why Genma was tailing him. He's not seriously planning to take me on, is he? The thought almost made Madara chuckle.
Sitting at the bottom of a well, gazing at the sky? An ant trying to shake a tree? A mantis blocking a cart? Ignorant of the vastness of the world? A slew of idioms could be slapped onto Genma's audacity.
Even if he thought Genma was overreaching, Madara found himself wanting to play along with this game of "Red Light, Green Light."
He continued walking, sharpening his focus and perception to their limits, yet Genma's presence remained undetectable. Just as he was about to glance back again, a faint sensation prickled at his neck—a subtle breath, as if someone were clinging to his back like a shadow spirit.
This wasn't Genma slipping up; it was a deliberate hint.
A chill ran through Madara, his hair standing on end. In an instant, he swung his arm, twisting his body clockwise and delivering a ferocious elbow strike behind him. The armor plates he wore clinked faintly with the motion, followed by a resounding crash.
Bang!
Genma raised his forearm, effortlessly blocking Madara's elbow.
The strike didn't budge Genma an inch. Instead, the recoil threw Madara off balance, his body lurching forward. Planting his left foot half a step forward, Madara pivoted on it, using the momentum to spin counterclockwise. His left hand drew a kunai, slashing in a deadly arc toward Genma as he turned to face him.
The kunai missed, but that was merely a feint.
Now facing Genma, Madara drove his knee upward with practiced force, aiming for Genma's abdomen while pressing down on his shoulder to force him lower.
But Genma didn't budge. As if anticipating the move, he caught Madara's right knee with one hand.
Not stopping there, Genma reversed the momentum. Steam erupted from his body, and with precise, sequential bursts of strength from his shoulder, elbow, and wrist, he redirected Madara's leg back along its original path, as if swatting a ball.
Boom!
Madara's foot slammed into the stone pavement, pulverizing it into dust. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from his foot, spreading across the entire street. A few unlucky passersby stumbled from the shockwave.
Feeling the searing heat around him and seeing the steam rising from Genma's body, Madara's astonishment was impossible to hide. "Bloodline Limit… Boil Release?"
Genma smirked inwardly. As expected of Uchiha Madara—sharp as ever. Even a rare Bloodline Limit like Boil Release couldn't escape his notice.
"You've seen it before?" Genma asked.
"No, but I've heard of it," Madara replied. "Why are you following me?"
"Oh, nothing much. You bought all those ninja tools, and I forgot to mention we're holding a promotion. I was wondering if you wanted some freebies."
"I don't need them," Madara said coolly. "And that's not what you really wanted to say, is it?"
Genma's stalking and sudden move weren't about some sales pitch.
"Alright, fine," Genma admitted. "I just wanted to make a simple point—one you already know. The Uchiha aren't invincible, and we're not powerless. So, if we can get along peacefully, wouldn't that be better?"
"Is that a threat or a warning?" Madara's tone sharpened.
"Just a friendly chat. No need to get so tense."
For a shinobi of Madara's caliber, who bowed to no one, Genma's words bordered on arrogance. Just as Madara prepared to teach him a lesson, both men simultaneously turned their heads toward a nearby rooftop.
Perched there was a white fox with a slightly square face, gazing down at them with a lazy demeanor. Its tail swayed idly, its eyes glinting with curiosity and scrutiny.
Madara quietly withdrew his hand from Genma's shoulder.
"I get your point," he said.
With that, he cast one last glance at the fox before turning to leave.
But then he paused, looking back at Genma. "By the way, I don't know your name."
"Genma."
Madara nodded, as if committing the name to memory. "I'm Madara."
With that, he walked away, soon passing through the gates of Kikyo Castle.
This time, Genma didn't follow.
Even a battle-hardened warrior like Uchiha Madara knew to respect the ultimate trump card known as "calling in the big guns."
Once safely outside Kikyo Castle and certain no one was around, Madara gingerly rubbed his right leg. Genma's ruthless counter had left it numb—the kind of numb that lingers even after you stomp the ground.
No question about it: in that brief clash, Madara had come out on the losing end.
After some rough massaging to restore circulation, he let out a long breath and muttered to himself, "My genjutsu… it didn't work."
During their fleeting encounter, Madara had attempted genjutsu on Genma multiple times, despite not activating his Sharingan. Yet none of his techniques had taken hold. For Genma to be outright immune to genjutsu—wasn't that a bit unreasonable?
If Genma could hear his thoughts, he'd scoff. Knowing you're a scheming Uchiha, did you think I wouldn't guard against your genjutsu? What am I, a pig?
In the end, neither could call the other out—both were playing a cunning game.
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