Kneeling on the ground, Uchiha Kyōsuke, Uchiha Keiichi, and Uchiha Ryūhei begged Qianyu to stop killing their clansmen.
Qianyu flickered, appearing directly before the three. His gaze was ice. "You three may have followed my orders before. That doesn't mean we share some bond. And you three don't speak for the entire Uchiha."
His gaze slid to Uchiha Fugaku.
Fugaku stood frozen, staring at the bodies strewn across the ground. His breathing was ragged, heavy.
Some Uchiha ninja were still shouting, swearing they'd fight Qianyu to the death.
"Enough!" Fugaku's roar was a raw, sandpaper scrape. "All of you, silence!"
As the Uchiha clan's acknowledged heir, his words held weight. The shouts died instantly.
Fugaku walked toward Qianyu. Each step was leaden.
He stopped before the boy. Looked at him. At those eyes—the Mangekyō Sharingan, the dream of every Uchiha. Fugaku's own gaze churned with hatred. Grief. And a thin, sharp thread of envy.
His voice was a rasp. "The Uchiha… will follow your command."
Qianyu didn't answer immediately. He flicked his blade. Blood spattered the dirt. "Honestly, I didn't want to go this far. I gave you chances. More than enough. But your clansmen… they have a talent for spitting in the face of goodwill."
He sheathed his blade with a soft click. "I'm a generous person. So I'll offer one more. But can you truly speak for them?"
Fugaku's voice was low, firm. "I can."
Qianyu's eyes swept over the Uchiha behind Fugaku. Many still glared, faces twisted with resentment. He chuckled, cold. "Heh. They don't look very convinced."
Fugaku whirled on his clansmen. "What is this?! You dare ignore my order now? How many more must die before you're satisfied?!"
His words—'how many more must die'—hit them like a physical blow. Their defiant expressions faltered. Eyes flicked to the bodies. To the blood still seeping into the earth. One by one, their heads bowed. The fight drained from them.
Fugaku turned back. "I guarantee it. They will not defy you again."
Qianyu simply shook his head.
Fugaku's already grim face darkened further. Desperation edged into his tone. "Qianyu, what more do you want? We are here to support the war in the Land of Waves. Fighting amongst ourselves only weakens Konoha!"
"I believe you," Qianyu said flatly. "It's them I don't trust. But fine. There's a simple way. If any Uchiha disobeys my orders from this point on… you will take their punishment. That is the condition. Accept it or not."
Fugaku's face paled, then flushed. It wasn't that he had no faith in his clan. It was that he knew them too well. Someone would try to undermine Qianyu. It was practically tradition.
Qianyu smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Well? Is it a problem?"
Fugaku's brow furrowed deeply. "Can you promise… you won't deliberately target my clansmen?"
"Target you?" Qianyu spread his hands, the picture of reason. "This isn't targeting. If you'd simply followed orders from the start, none of this would be happening. You brought this on yourselves."
He leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a persuasive, almost zealous edge. "My order was to engage the Mist ninja head-on. I gave it because I believe in the Uchiha. In your strength. The greatest clan in Konoha! Bearers of the legendary Sharingan! Dealing with some Mist stragglers should be child's play, no?"
His tone sharpened. "Why do you think Konoha sent you? To turn the tide in Wave! To use that famed Uchiha power to break the enemy's line! Otherwise, why are you here? To retire?"
He scanned the bowed heads. "You think I'm sending you to die while I hide in the camp? Wrong. I will be on that frontline with you. Fighting at the very forefront. So, Uchiha Fugaku… anything else to say?"
Fugaku took a long, shuddering breath. Released it. "Fine. If they disobey… I bear the punishment."
"Good," Qianyu said, his smile turning genuine for a brief, chilling moment.
He addressed the Uchiha behind Fugaku, his voice carrying clearly. "You all heard him. Disobey me, and your clan heir suffers for it. Let another incident like today happen…" His eyes lingered on Fugaku. "…and he might be the next one lying in the dirt."
"I can tolerate mistakes in combat. But intentional defiance? Insubordination? Both the offender and Fugaku will pay. Severely."
The Uchiha kept their heads down, shoulders tense. Fury simmered beneath the surface, but it was cowed, directionless. And beneath the anger, a trickle of something else—guilt, and a pang of fierce, humbled gratitude toward Fugaku.
Fugaku spoke again. "One more thing. I wish to send my clansmen's remains back to Konoha."
Qianyu waved a dismissive hand. "Unnecessary. We'll destroy the eyes and bury them here. Don't trouble yourselves with it. Your only task now is to sort into the squads I designated and prepare for tomorrow's missions."
He clapped his hands once, sharp and final. "Dismissed."
His gaze found Nara Kubota in the crowd. "Kubota. Assign the Uchiha their quarters. Then have a few men move these bodies to an empty room. I'll handle the eyes personally before burial. Can't have our precious bloodline leaking out, can we? I'm sure the clan will appreciate the… discretion."
Nara Kubota jolted, snapping out of his daze. The sheer, audacious brutality of what had just unfolded had left him reeling. Qianyu's casual violence. The looming specter of a full-blown mutiny that, by some miracle, had been choked in its crib.
He glanced at the subdued Uchiha. A flicker of pity stirred in his gut.
But the fact remained: Qianyu had broken them. Cowed the proudest clan in the village. That… was a terrifying kind of skill.
They're in for a hell of a time, Kubota thought with a shiver. Thank the Sage I'm not in their shoes.
He hurried to guide the Uchiha to their assigned rooms.
Later, after the seven bodies had been placed in a spare storage room, Qianyu entered and locked the door behind him.
From a scroll, he summoned several large glass jars filled with clear preservative fluid. Methodically, with clinical precision, he removed a single Sharingan from each corpse. Each glistening orb was placed gently into its own jar, sealed, and stored back within the scroll.
Next, he stuffed something into each empty, staring socket—just enough filler to restore the shape. Then, with a few precise applications of chakra, he scorched and scarred the eye areas, creating the convincing illusion of violent destruction.
Task complete, he left the room without a backward glance.
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