A month passed in the blink of an eye.
On the vast training grounds, shinobi lay sprawled everywhere—faces bruised, bodies aching—yet every single person wore an expression of exhilaration rather than defeat.
"Second Squad! Lock down his movements—aim for his face!"
With that shout, the battlefield suddenly broke into coordinated units as trained teams moved into formation.
"Earth Release: Earth Bind!"
The ground surged up like a living creature, clamping around Madara's arms and legs.
Instantly, another team reacted.
"Fire Release: Great Flare!"
The sky ignited in scarlet flames—
followed by—
"Wind Release: Extreme Storm!"
Dozens of Wind Release users layered their techniques, fueling the flames into a roaring compound jutsu that engulfed the entire field.
But even that wasn't enough for the others.
"Earth Release: Mudslide Technique!"
Hundreds of meters around Madara turned into a vast sinking mire.
"Earth Release: Mud Dragon Bullet!"
Dozens of mud constructs blasted towards Madara simultaneously, their impacts echoing like thunder.
After a month of battle, everyone already understood something critical:
They could not defeat Madara.
That wasn't the point.
Their goal was simply—
Delay him. Survive. Last until time ran out.
"Hahahahahahahaha!"
Madara burst upward into the sky, hand seals flickering with one hand alone.
A giant Wood Release construct erupted across the battlefield, sweeping through squads like a tidal wave.
"Scatter! Scatter!"
Groans of frustration spread across the team.
They had lasted less time than yesterday.
Madara had broken free in less than three seconds.
Then—
"Watch carefully! Sexy Jutsu!"
A puff of smoke blasted upward—
"Mmm~ Madaraaa… be gentle~ Mmm~"
A voluptuous, shimmering figure appeared in the center of the battlefield—somewhere between Tsunade's curves and Hashirama's face.
Madara froze.
But he wasn't the only one.
Several shinobi instantly collapsed with nosebleeds—
without Madara even touching them—
which only made the scene more absurd.
Madara trembled with fury.
"Konohamaru… are you provoking me? How dare you use Hashirama to tempt me!"
One punch.
Konohamaru reverted to his normal form, head buried in the ground with only his twitching feet sticking out.
The brat was Konohamaru Sarutobi.
Though the Third Hokage had made many mistakes, Konohamaru had not committed serious offenses—and thus remained among the ordinary shinobi.
But today, many shinobi glared at him with murderous intent.
Did he not realize that using that kind of jutsu could easily injure allies?
And why couldn't he at least apply mist to cover the figure?
Today's training session collapsed instantly because of his antics.
Konohamaru was carried away by his fellow shinobi, and after some time regained consciousness.
"Damn it! Didn't he say this was the ultimate secret technique? Why didn't it work on that guy!?"
Face flushed with humiliation, he complained loudly while his two friends tried to comfort him.
"Konohamaru, are you tired of living? If you provoke Madara again, he might actually kill you."
"Iruka-sensei warned you about this already," Udon said helplessly.
Moegi nodded. "Your 'secret technique' isn't appropriate at all."
Konohamaru refused to back down.
"Ise Udon! Moegi! That's not how you talk! My mysterious master said this technique is invincible! I just haven't mastered it yet!"
"I'm going back to practice my ninjutsu—don't bother me!"
He ran off toward the training hall, leaving the two staring after him in disbelief.
Had Konohamaru been scammed?
How could that jutsu possibly be a supreme secret technique?
Meanwhile…
"Achoo… achoo."
Naruto rubbed his nose inside the office.
He stared suspiciously into the air.
He couldn't be catching a cold—his body was far beyond that.
Someone must be thinking about him.
Probably Hinata.
He adjusted the scroll in his hand—the nearly completed Foundation Establishment Method, Version 1.0.
It still needed refinement, but the basic framework was solid.
A simple name was fine for a basic cultivation method.
What he had completely forgotten was—
The child he had accidentally scammed.
One day, during a disguised inspection using the Transformation Jutsu, Naruto had passed by and noticed Konohamaru's training.
Moved by nostalgia—and mischief—he decided to "guide" the boy.
He taught him the Sexy Jutsu.
Konohamaru used it to defeat several opponents afterward, which inflated his confidence beyond control.
And so—
He actually dared to use it on Madara.
He was practically begging for death.
Naruto, of course, knew none of this.
His chance encounter with Konohamaru had simply been him marveling at fate's strange sense of humor.
In the following days, after each grueling battle, the trainees would sit through guidance sessions from both Itachi and Hashirama, followed by group discussions where they analyzed tactics, formations, and weaknesses.
Many worked tirelessly to refine their chakra.
The gains were obvious—spiritual power and physical strength had risen dramatically, and chakra refining efficiency had increased severalfold.
With the new Chakra Refining Method, no one was truly "chakra-poor" anymore. Compared to before, their chakra reserves had increased by three to five times, sometimes more.
Their overall strength had skyrocketed.
And now that ninjutsu was no longer difficult to access, shinobi could obtain techniques suited to their natural affinities by paying small contributions, cultivating them to higher proficiency.
Everyone's thoughts had shifted.
No longer "How can I get more ninjutsu?"
But rather—
"How do I master my ninjutsu?"
"How do I combine techniques for maximum effect?"
After two more months…the battlefield's "style" began drifting into absurdity.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
Dozens shouted the name—yet many of their hand seals were clearly Fire Release.
Even Madara, with his near-perfect observation skills, couldn't track every mismatch of hand seals and shouted names.
Some shinobi even mixed real and fake calls, deliberately shouting wrong techniques to confuse Madara's timing.
One unfortunate day—
Madara's hair was directly scorched.
He beat the entire field senseless afterward.
But what truly brought the training ground to madness was what came next.
Every time Madara attacked—
BOOM!
A cloud of smoke exploded.
His target?
A Shadow Clone.
Sometimes, even before Madara's kick reached someone, the shinobi vanished with an instantaneous Body Flicker.
Across the field, figures flickered in and out, substituting logs, dispersing clones, and reappearing behind rocks or elevated terrain.
Body Flicker.
Shadow Clone.
Substitution Technique.
Everyone had taken these basic arts to their absolute limit.
Bang! A log rolled across the ground.
Boom! A clone burst into smoke.
More smoke clouds erupted like chaotic fireworks.
A proper battlefield had devolved into a large-scale, high-speed game of hide-and-seek.
Some even launched ranged ninjutsu at Madara from afar—
then Body-Flickered away the moment he closed in.
Of course, many were too slow and were caught, beaten thoroughly, and sent flying.
But despite the casualties, the number of participants remained high.
"You've irritated me quite a bit."
Madara sneered, eyes sharp.
"You think these petty tricks can deal with me? Ridiculous."
He formed a seal with one hand.
In the next moment—
Hundreds of Madaras erupted onto the field.
Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu.
The trainees froze in horror.
Madara burst into laughter as his clones charged forward.
Desperate screams echoed as shinobi were flattened one after another, their Substitution and Body Flicker techniques failing simply because Madara's attacks came faster than their reflexes.
Even Konohamaru, who had earlier attempted his infamous Sexy Jutsu, lay on the ground swollen, bruised, and weeping.
"Waaah… waaah… Why was I surrounded by five of him…? Waaah… It's not fair…"
He collapsed like a broken doll, looking utterly defeated.