The night passed in silence, and no one knew that Ren Uchiha had already danced on the threshold of death.
The next morning, everything proceeded as usual—Ren went to Hikaku Uchiha's training ground to receive his daily "beating." The proficiency on his status panel jumped up noticeably after the session.
[Uchiha Style: Dance of the Halo (S+), Proficiency: (Skilled, 41/300)]
Under the guidance of the veteran Uchiha, his swordsmanship proficiency had increased by 30 points. By tracking these gains, Ren discovered that by adjusting his breathing, footwork, and offensive rhythm, he could enter a state of "High Focus." If he maintained this without error, his proficiency would grow even faster than under normal conditions.
A few points of gain in an S+ rank technique were massive; corresponding gains in Basic Swordsmanship would likely be in the dozens. At this rate, he could reach Mastery in the basics within days, which would in turn provide a feedback loop to boost his higher-tier skills.
Naturally, he immediately thought of a way to "exploit" the system.
On the training field, Ren was once again flipped by Hikaku's wooden sword, crashing heavily to the ground.
"Hikaku-senpai, wait!" Ren called out, raising a hand.
"Hmm?" Hikaku raised an eyebrow, cleanly interrupting his follow-up slash. He sheathed his sword and looked at Ren with an inquisitive gaze.
Ren pointed to the Cursed Seal of Heaven on his neck. "Could I try opening this? I think I might progress faster in that state."
Now that he could use Sage Art: Transmission of the Distant Shadow to suppress the seal's side effects and control his sanity, Ren's training with the Cursed Seal had leaped forward. He could now trigger the Cursed Seal Level 2 state at will. With the physical enhancement and bodily control granted by that form, he believed he could execute the movements in his mind with perfect precision.
Hikaku didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either. He simply watched Ren with a deep, inscrutable gaze.
"Here I come!"
Seeing no rejection, Ren didn't waste words. The patterns on his neck flared, and natural energy surged through his body. White scales rippled beneath his skin, forming a smooth layer of armor. His Sharingan bled into a pair of eerie, crimson snake pupils.
"Is this the jutsu Orochimaru taught you?" Hikaku narrowed his eyes, observing the minute shifts in Ren's muscle structure. In this state, even the most basic Taijutsu overflowed with feral power.
However, Hikaku simply shook his head silently. He activated his three-tomoe Sharingan, drew his wooden sword, and stood straight with one hand behind his back.
"Watch out, Senpai!"
Ren gripped his sword, lunged forward, and swung.
Clang!
Ren moved like a Black Mamba, his wooden sword tearing through the air in a heavy diagonal cut. But Hikaku simply pivoted his waist and met the strike with a one-handed grip.
The impact sent wood splinters flying. Hikaku's brow twitched—the sheer force vibrating through the hilt nearly cracked his thumb web. He felt his palm go numb, but for the sake of his dignity as a senior, he suppressed the emotion and commented coldly:
"This... will not work."
As he spoke, Hikaku suddenly pulled his blade back, letting Ren's sword fall with its own momentum. Ren's posture broke, leaving his flank wide open.
Before Ren could react, Hikaku's sword descended, sealing off Ren's attempt to rotate his blade. With a sharp crack, he slapped the back of Ren's hand and followed up with a heavy kick to the small of Ren's back.
The kick sent Ren flying across the field.
Hikaku coughed slightly, switching the sword to his other hand. "The fact that you can see the blade's path means your eyes' perception is no longer inferior to a three-tomoe Sharingan. So, do you understand now?"
Ren frowned. With his 360-degree vision, he could see that this Uchiha senior was consistently one, two, or even three steps ahead of him. It was as if Hikaku were looking into the future.
But he shouldn't be able to do that every time... right?
"Again!"
Ren roared, his snake-eyes trailing red lines as he leaped forward again. But Hikaku met every strike with a textbook block. No matter what angle Ren chose, Hikaku's movements were the same: intercept, seal the path, and follow up with a brutal combination of elbows, kicks, or palm strikes.
The onslaught lasted five minutes. Once the natural energy in the seal was depleted, Ren was forced to drop the transformation.
He checked his panel and his heart sank.
[Uchiha Style: Dance of the Halo (S+), Proficiency: (Skilled, 43/300)]
Normally, a session like that should have yielded at least 5 points. In his Cursed Seal form, his endurance, strength, speed, and precision were all elevated. Yet, he had only gained 2 points.
Where did I go wrong?
Hikaku turned his back, cradling his trembling arms out of sight.
"Ren Uchiha, I can feel it," Hikaku said calmly. "There is a goal in your heart—someone you are desperately trying to catch up to. However, Jutsu and Skill are two different things."
"Your rapid growth has made you rely on the most direct, blunt means to solve problems. This is useless for swordsmanship; it is actually harmful. There are no shortcuts in the way of the sword."
"To seek speed is to fail to arrive. To see small gains is to ensure great things remain unaccomplished."
Hikaku shook his head. "Your eyes can no longer see the road ahead clearly. Therefore, from tomorrow, we will no longer spar."
He looked at Ren. "Every morning, you will come here and swing your sword three thousand times according to the manual. During that time, think carefully: if you leave behind these strange 'Jutsu,' what do you have left?"
Without another word, Hikaku clutched his aching, nearly fractured hand and walked away with a stiff face.
Ren sat paralyzed in the center of the field, his mind in a haze.
"If I leave behind these Jutsu... what is left?" He muttered, his brow furrowed. "But isn't a ninja defined by the Jutsu they master?"
He shook his head, unable to find an answer. But he stood up anyway. If Hikaku-senpai said it, there must be a reason.
He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, gripped the wooden sword, and began to swing. One. Two. Three. He followed the manual's movements with mechanical precision in the cool morning air.
By noon, Ren was drenched in sweat. He wiped his brow and pulled a letter from his gear—the one he had written the night before.
Since the White Snake Sage was involved, the Ryūchi Cave communication channels were no longer safe. He had decided to send this letter to Orochimaru through Setsuna Uchiha's private channels. It would take longer, but it was secure.
At this point in time, Orochimaru likely hadn't perfected Living Corpse Reincarnation. What the scientist would do once he learned of the White Snake Sage's grand plan, Ren couldn't say.
But since the plot was already unrecognizable because of him, one more variable didn't matter. After all, when you're covered in fleas, one more bite doesn't make you any itchier.
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