Shen Mo was acutely aware that Sasuke's desire for the jar was the most intense and volatile among his current clientele, surpassing even Tsunade's gambling compulsion and Teuchi's culinary obsession. This intensity was rooted in two crucial factors: unyielding obsession and youthful extremism.
His entire family, every man, woman, and child of the Uchiha clan, had been massacred in a single night by the person he loved and admired most—his older brother. If Sasuke's spirit were fragile, he would have been swallowed whole by madness. His very survival was a testament to the colossal, consuming furnace of hatred that now served as his life force.
Secondly, his youth. At his age, judgment was governed by raw emotion, making him prone to single-minded fixations and black-and-white thinking. He was easy to entrap and simple to motivate: provide a path to revenge, and he would sacrifice everything. Shen Mo needed to cultivate this hunger, transforming it from a mere wish into a maniacal certainty.
Perhaps a small, educational demonstration is in order?
"Sasuke," Shen Mo called out softly, watching the intensity burning in the boy's eyes. "I must first warn you that the value of items within the jar is wildly inconsistent. It is the greatest gamble imaginable."
"I understand," Sasuke replied, his voice still ragged but gaining a strained composure. "If we take the Gourmet Series jars from earlier as an example, the value provided by recipes is far more consistent and valuable to a chef than some exotic, single-use ingredient."
"Good," Shen Mo nodded slightly, pleased that the boy's analytical mind was still functioning. "You possess a degree of reasoning. However, the power you seek is far more complex than simple culinary skills. There are countless paths and routes to unimaginable strength. Have you considered which specific direction you wish to take?"
Sasuke hesitated. He had only thought about getting strong. The direction was irrelevant as long as it led to his brother's death.
"It seems you haven't," Shen Mo observed, stepping forward and beckoning Sasuke to walk with him down the now silent, darkened street towards the Uchiha compound. "I have sold countless jars, but when observing those customers who seek purely combat-oriented power, a strange pattern emerges. Some spend massive amounts of currency and exhaust themselves on minor gains, while others spend relatively little and achieve overwhelming strength. Do you know why?"
"..." Sasuke thought deeply, his brow furrowed. "Talent? The man I... the man who killed my family—despite my hatred—I have to admit his natural qualities were frightening."
"Talent," Shen Mo conceded, nodding. "Talent can certainly be acquired from my jars. But the primary factor, the one that guarantees success against the odds, is luck."
Sasuke looked profoundly confused. He believed that merely opening enough jars would make him stronger. What did luck have to do with it?
Shen Mo continued, drawing on Teuchi's success as an analogy. "You said those fragmented recipes were more valuable than rare ingredients. This is because they provide a strategic advantage—a blueprint. But what if a chef opened a jar containing a specific ability called 'God's Language'? This is a passive ability that allows the user to instantly perceive even the slightest flaw or perfection in any food, guiding them unerringly toward culinary mastery."
This ability, Shen Mo knew, was incredibly expensive and not found in Tier One Jars. But the concept was sound.
"This is commonly called a 'plugin'," Shen Mo explained with a mysterious smile. "A single, incredibly rare, high-value item that instantly accelerates the user light-years past their peers. A chef with God's Language would progress far faster and further than anyone relying only on acquired recipes or mere ingredients. They are guaranteed a massive leap. It makes all the difference."
Shen Mo purposefully used the word 'guaranteed,' linking success not to grinding effort, but to the single, thrilling, chaotic chance of a lucky draw.
"Can such an ability be obtained directly?" Sasuke whispered, his skepticism momentarily buried under a wave of incredulity. When he saw Teuchi opening the jars, he had focused only on visible gains: the physical-boosting fruit, the minor skill scrolls. The idea of a passive, talent-altering gift was overwhelming.
"Haha," Shen Mo chuckled, stopping suddenly and turning to face the boy. "My jars contain things you cannot possibly imagine."
Then, Shen Mo raised his hand and gently placed two fingers against Sasuke's forehead—a deceptively simple gesture of intimacy and control.
Sasuke's mind fractured.
It wasn't a Genjutsu—it was a pure, unfiltered torrent of data, a crushing sensory overload that bypassed his ninja defenses and slammed directly into his deepest consciousness. Shen Mo was simply projecting raw, system-cataloged data directly into his brain, overwhelming his young mind with the sheer scale of the multiverse.
He saw an ethereal being holding a white-and-red lotus, a force so potent it cracked the heavens. The fiery essence of that flower, Strange Fire, ripped continents apart, consuming all in its path.
He saw a figure encased in armor the size of a skyscraper, controlling a massive, transforming puppet that pierced the clouds with a drill—a terrifying weapon known as a Mecha.
He saw men who could turn into lightning, transform their bodies into rubber, or command volcanoes to erupt—all by eating colorful, twisted fruits, the Devil Fruits.
He saw swordsmen, mere mortals, who could summon immortal blades capable of carving space and time with a single slash.
He saw impossible, shimmering humanoid spirits, invisible to normal eyes, capable of stopping time or rearranging matter with a touch—the Stands.
These weren't illusions; they felt real. They were the true powers that existed in the worlds beyond, far removed from the meager scope of Chakra, Kunai, and Fireballs. These were the true powers that could crush any opponent, even his brother, with casual ease.
Sasuke's body began to shake uncontrollably, his face contorting into an ecstatic, frantic grin that was part terror and part rapturous mania.
The sheer, endless possibilities—the infinity of power available—instantly crushed the narrow scope of his long-held despair. The black, painful abyss of his past was suddenly illuminated by a terrifying, alluring future.
"Now you should understand what my jar truly represents," Shen Mo said, withdrawing his hand and spreading his arms wide. "Infinite worlds, infinite power, infinite possibilities. If you are lucky, you may acquire the power to change your destiny tonight."
"I—I can't take it anymore!" Sasuke clutched his head, the crazed smile fixed on his face. He was no longer a stoic Uchiha; he was just a middle school student who had been given the keys to an impossibly grand arcade. His mind, overflowing with visions of unparalleled might, was already drafting fantasies: a sword that could cleave Konoha in half, a technique that could render his brother's Sharingan useless.
He yearned to see the expression of surprise, confusion, and shock on the face of the man who thought himself so strong—Itachi—when confronted with a power no one in this world could have prepared for. Just picturing that scene sent a thrill of maniacal pleasure through him. The deep, dark pain in his heart, the despair, had instantly been replaced by a boundless, terrifying hope.
Shen Mo looked at him with an expression of faint pity. The poor boy was already doomed to be a tragic poor man, destined to spend every last coin chasing an improbable dream.
He doesn't know that the dealer is already manipulating the probability.
"Very well," Shen Mo's face settled into a look of sincere, professional anticipation. "I wish you the best of luck in advance."
"I will pull a powerful force!" Sasuke declared with an unnerving confidence, then spun around and quickly led the way into the desolate, silent streets of the Uchiha compound.
Shen Mo suppressed a smile. He cradled Himari, who was now dozing comfortably again, and followed. He glanced quickly toward the street where the Anbu ninjas had been abandoned. The shadows were empty; they had retreated.
How will the Third Hokage react?
And Danzo, Konoha's true master of chaos?
Shen Mo simply checked the rising number on his internal Transaction Point (TP) counter. His expression was calm. The profit was sound, the fear was planted, and the most valuable client was about to open his wallet. It was a good night's work.