"Looks like you've decided to throw your lives away."
Mo Yu's eyes turned cold.
"Do it!!"
Uchiha Fuhai roared, and both he and Yan began weaving hand seals at the same time.
Born into a great clan, they had received the best training since childhood.
Even in the fundamentals of hand seals, they possessed secret techniques that made their speed extraordinary—the slowest among them could perform four seals per second.
As one of the elites, Uchiha Fuhai could reach five seals per second.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
The seals completed, Fuhai unleashed a blazing fireball, crashing toward Mo Yu's face like a miniature sun.
Mo Yu was prepared to dodge using the Fast Domain, but in that instant, a strange surge of spiritual energy invaded his mind.
The scene before his eyes shifted—from forest to desert. In the sky hung nine suns, plummeting down like meteors, ready to crush him.
"Genjutsu?"
Mo Yu immediately realized—it was Uchiha Yan's doing.
The two coordinated well: one attacking with ninjutsu, the other interfering with illusions. Against an ordinary Jounin, that combo could have spelled instant death.
"Sharingan, open!"
Mo Yu growled inwardly. His eyes turned blood-red, though hidden behind contact lenses, so Fuhai and Yan didn't notice.
Though his Sharingan only had two tomoe, it was more than enough to dispel this illusion.
"Break!"
His vision flashed, and he was back in the forest.
The Great Fireball was already at arm's reach, the searing heat stinging his face.
Instead of dodging, Mo Yu raised both hands, forming two sets of entirely different seals.
"To return the courtesy—have a taste of mine."
Wind Style: Whirlwind Fist!
Fire Style: Dragon Flame Song Technique!
First, his Whirlwind Fist shattered the incoming fireball, scattering it into a spray of sparks. Then, from his mouth erupted a roaring fire dragon, lunging at Uchiha Fuhai.
Fuhai was stunned yet again.
Did I see that right? Two ninjutsu at the same time???
His shock today outweighed everything he'd experienced in half a lifetime—he was beginning to doubt reality itself.
"No... that Dragon Flame Song Technique is exclusive to the Uchiha clan. How could he know it?"
There was no time to think. Fuhai dodged frantically while layering defensive ninjutsu.
Uchiha Yan leapt to assist, hurling a barrage of shuriken toward Mo Yu in an attempt to force him back.
But to Mo Yu, those shuriken were meaningless. His figure blurred into afterimages, untouched.
"Better to take one of them out first."
Having just unleashed two B-rank techniques, his chakra reserves were already halved. Though he could restore it instantly through the system, saving some was always wise.
Mo Yu instantly closed in on Uchiha Yan and lashed out with a kick.
"Leaf Whirlwind!"
Bang! Yan was sent flying like a rag doll. Before he could land, Mo Yu appeared above him, bringing his leg down in another strike.
"Leaf Strong Whirlwind!"
Boom!
The impact was heavier, deeper. Yan slammed into the ground, leaving a man-shaped crater.
"Cough… cough!"
Blood gushed from his mouth. He was barely clinging to life.
Though his body, enhanced by chakra, was far tougher than that of an ordinary human, he wasn't invincible. Mo Yu's consecutive heavy kicks had shattered most of his ribs and sternum, dislocated his spine, and left his lower body completely numb.
"Yan!!"
Uchiha Fuhai roared.
When Han had been killed earlier, Fuhai could excuse it as a lapse in reaction. But this time, he had watched helplessly as Yan was brutalized before his eyes.
His Sharingan spun wildly, tomoe blurring into a haze.
Born of a concubine, Fuhai had always been looked down upon. Han and Yan were among his few true friends—not blood brothers, but closer than family.
Now, with one dead and the other crippled, Fuhai teetered on the edge of madness.
"Oh? Don't tell me he's about to awaken the Mangekyō?"
Mo Yu watched with keen interest.
The Mangekyō Sharingan was the evolved form of the three-tomoe Sharingan, and the very reason it was called the "Cursed Eye."
To awaken it, one had to endure immense negative emotional trauma, producing a special chakra—usually triggered by the death of a parent, sibling, spouse, or other deep loss.
Mo Yu wasn't sure if anyone in the current Uchiha clan had already awakened the Mangekyō. Even if they had, it would be less than a handful. Each Mangekyō wielder was a pillar of the clan.
In fact, if only one person in a generation awakened it, that person was practically guaranteed to become the next clan head.
The current clan leader, Uchiha Shū—the father of Fuhai and Fugaku—was highly suspected to possess the Mangekyō himself.
Of course, talent was a prerequisite.
Without sufficient potential, no amount of tragedy could spark the transformation.
The Mangekyō's evolution was of great research value to Mo Yu. From the looks of it, though, Fuhai's awakening wasn't going smoothly—perhaps due to lack of talent, or perhaps the emotional trigger wasn't enough.
"Then let me add some fuel to the fire."
Mo Yu's grin turned sinister.
Drawing the blade at his waist, he stabbed down at the half-dead Uchiha Yan.
Squelch!
The blade pierced Yan's leg, wrenching a scream from him.
"AAAHH!!"
"Bastard, stop!!"
Fuhai roared.
But with his Sharingan caught in the throes of transformation, he couldn't freely muster chakra, forced to watch helplessly.
Mo Yu stabbed Yan again and again, wounds multiplying, screams weakening.
Finally, with a single thrust, Mo Yu's blade pierced Yan's forehead. His skull burst, spilling red and white as his life ended.
"I'll kill you—I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!!!"
Fuhai's eyes turned crimson, his Sharingan spinning to the extreme.
The three tomoe drew together, merging into a windmill-like shape.
"Did it work?"
Mo Yu's eyes glinted with anticipation.
For reasons unknown, though it wasn't his own eyes evolving, he felt genuine excitement—not joy or pride, but a strange sense of satisfaction.
Perhaps because it was his hand that had forced this Mangekyō into existence?
"Wait… there's one problem. If his Mangekyō ability turns out to be Kotoamatsukami… wouldn't he just instantly control me…?"