"You don't seriously think this is enough to capture me, do you?"
Obito sneered beneath his mask as he looked at Wen Lan.
Wen Lan spoke calmly, unhurried.
"You might not fully understand Tsukuyomi.
"Once Tsukuyomi is activated, the one who falls into it is no longer engaging in an ordinary clash of chakra or ocular power. Instead, they are completely dragged into a world constructed by the caster.
"For seventy-two hours within that world, time, space, mass—everything—is under the caster's absolute control.
"There are only three ways to resist Tsukuyomi.
"First: the caster releases it voluntarily.
"Second: the victim endures seventy-two hours of spiritual torment.
"Third: using the same Tsukuyomi to counter Tsukuyomi.
"Obviously," Wen Lan said lightly,
"you only qualify for the second one."
With a wave of his hand, the space warped violently.
The cross binding Obito instantly transformed into a tiger bench, Obito's body firmly fixed upon it.
Beside him appeared another Obito, bound to a bed. Another Wen Lan stood there, holding a needle aimed straight at the fingernails.
Another Obito was buried underground, only his head exposed. A blade had peeled open the scalp at the crown of his head, while another Wen Lan held a bottle of mercury.
To the right stood a red-hot iron pillar. Obito, stripped naked, was forced before it—Paoluo.
Nearby yawned a deep pit, writhing with venomous snakes. Another Obito stood at its edge, snake tongues flickering, cold light glinting—Egg Basin.
The fifth.
The fifteenth.
The sixtieth.
Countless Obitos awaited execution on different instruments of torture.
"The ones on the left are known as the Ten Great Tortures of the Qing Dynasty," Wen Lan said calmly.
"The ones on the right were designed by a woman named Daji. They're known as the Great Shang Tortures.
"I want to see just how far you can endure."
"Begin."
With Wen Lan's command, every Wen Lan moved at once.
Instantly, Obito's true body erupted into piercing screams. The agony was amplified hundreds—thousands—of times. Every shred of pain inflicted on the illusions was transmitted directly back to his real body.
His Mangekyō Sharingan spun wildly under the assault.
At the same time, Wen Lan became keenly aware of a problem—
Tsukuyomi consumed an enormous amount of ocular power.
Any manipulation of the Tsukuyomi world caused his eye power expenditure to multiply.
No wonder Uchiha Itachi, despite possessing such a god-tier ability, used Tsukuyomi sparingly and favored Amaterasu instead—and why Tsukuyomi rarely produced bloody tears.
It turned out that Itachi had been using Tsukuyomi as a low-output skill, never pushing it to its true limits.
If Tsukuyomi were fully unleashed, even with chakra reserves equivalent to five Kakashis, one's eyesight would still be destroyed almost instantly.
As for blood tears—those weren't exclusive to Amaterasu.
They appeared whenever powerful ocular techniques were used.
Fortunately, for Wen Lan, this level of consumption was nothing more than child's play.
Thanks to Demon Power, his recovery speed completely kept pace with the expenditure—
and even exceeded it.
Pain crashed over Obito's nerves like a tidal wave.
Each second stretched into what felt like an entire century.
He clenched his teeth and endured.
Just seventy-two hours, he told himself.
I only need to last seventy-two hours.
He had already endured the pain of losing the woman he loved.
The pain of hating the entire world.
Compared to that, this was nothing.
"Not bad," Wen Lan said calmly.
"There are still seventy-one hours, ninety-five minutes, and ninety-five seconds left."
The moment those words landed—
Obito's pupils shrank violently.
Only then did he truly realize what Wen Lan had said earlier.
Time itself was under the caster's control.
"Ugh—!"
In the real world, Obito's body suddenly convulsed. He collapsed to his knees, trembling uncontrollably as the spiritual backlash ravaged his mind.
Wen Lan smacked his lips while watching him.
Obito had barely lasted less than an hour before his psyche nearly shattered.
If Wen Lan hadn't pulled back in time, Obito would have either died—or become a drooling vegetable.
The kind you couldn't even cure.
"Uchiha Wen Lan!"
Obito's voice shook with hatred as he glared at him.
"I'll accept this loss today—but next time you won't be so lucky! I will kill you!"
Spiral distortions appeared around Obito's body as space twisted.
Kisame instantly drew Samehada and charged, swinging it horizontally at Obito.
But Samehada passed straight through Obito's intangible form.
His figure vanished completely into the warped void.
"He got away?" Kisame asked warily, scanning the surroundings.
"Yeah," Wen Lan replied. He felt warmth on his right cheek, raised a hand, and found his fingers stained with blood.
A bloody tear.
Looks like fully forcing Tsukuyomi had finally taken its toll.
Wen Lan turned to Kisame and asked,
"Is there someone in Kirigakure named Momochi Zabuza?"
"He defected," Kisame answered quietly.
"After the war with Konoha ended, the Fourth Mizukage began purging bloodline clans and forcing Mist ninja to kill one another.
Zabuza had already defected by then."
Wen Lan nodded.
Kisame glanced at Yagura, who stood there motionless, eyes dull.
"What about the Fourth Mizukage?"
Wen Lan looked at Yagura.
"He was under Sharingan genjutsu, so—"
He suddenly frowned, stepped forward, and pressed a hand against Yagura's forehead. His chakra probed lightly as he muttered,
"So that's it… He was already a jinchūriki at this point.
"It wasn't just Yagura. Even Isobu, the Three-Tails, was under genjutsu."
He didn't dwell on it further and turned to Kisame.
"Let's go. Without that impostor's illusion driving him, he'll wake up soon enough."
Kisame nodded and followed Wen Lan away.
About half an hour later, Yagura slowly opened his eyes.
Clarity returned to them, replacing the former haze.
He looked around the empty cavern, clenching and unclenching his hand as if confirming his freedom.
"Heh…"
Yagura let out a self-mocking chuckle.
"To think that I—a Mizukage, and a jinchūriki—was controlled by genjutsu.
The Sharingan truly is terrifying.
"Uchiha Wen Lan… I owe you a debt."
Yagura had been conscious all along.
He had been imprisoned within an inner space—able to see everything, yet unable to control his own body.
And the one controlling him clearly understood Kirigakure well.
Knowing that the Byakugan could detect genjutsu, they had deliberately transferred Ao, the Byakugan user, out of the village.
Yagura loved Kirigakure.
Watching himself issue cruel orders under Obito's control had made his heart bleed.
But he could do nothing—only watch his hands stain themselves with innocent blood.
Yet today, because Uchiha Wen Lan forced that Uchiha to flee, the genjutsu had finally been broken.
Yagura slowly stepped out of the underground chamber and looked up at the moon in the sky.
Guilt surged within him.
"…It's time to train the next generation," he murmured softly.
"And step down from the position of Mizukage… sooner rather than later."
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