Hope Village was nestled deep within the jungle, about seventy miles from Kirigakure.
It was far enough to ensure independence, yet close enough to facilitate communication.
Terumi Mei approached Logan to ask whether they should send people ahead to reclaim land and begin constructing houses and infrastructure.
Logan thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"It's not the right time yet."
There were only about thirty survivors living in Hope Village. With so few people, building a full-fledged village would be premature. Besides—
"I have a new idea," Logan said.
"A new idea?" Terumi Mei raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Then, without another word, she pulled out the Mizukage seal from her sleeve and tossed it to him.
"Whatever you want to do, stamp the seal and give the order. Everyone will cooperate."
Logan caught the seal but handed it back, chuckling.
"There's no need for that. I just want to find a location in Kirigakure with good access and set up an open-air night school."
"A school?" Terumi Mei asked, tilting her head. "To teach what?"
Logan paused, then said, "Whatever they need to learn."
---
Logan didn't have high standards for the school.
Just an open space.
A table, a blackboard, a few dozen chairs, and a lamp for night lighting—that was enough.
The location he chose? The very same clearing where he had once killed the Daimyo.
He didn't require anyone to attend. The first batch of students was simply the thirty or so people from Hope Village.
Amber and the others sat with small notebooks in hand, listening intently.
Outside the makeshift classroom, a ring of Kirigakure villagers and off-duty ninjas gathered. Some were still lingering from the recent celebration. They were curious—curious about what this man, who had upended Kirigakure's fate, would say next.
But after a few days of attending, many began to look... confused.
Not because the content was shocking.
But because it was so simple.
He taught how to use farming tools efficiently, introduced basic principles of physics and chemistry, and gave straightforward lessons on mathematics and practical calculations.
The only thing that truly caught the interest of the ninja crowd was the segment on real ninja world history.
But even that wasn't enough to keep the spies from other villages hanging around. They already knew the content—or thought they did.
After several days, most spies concluded it was a waste of time and quietly left.
Yet as they departed, more and more ordinary people arrived.
Villagers loved the stories about the ninja world, and even the basic theory Logan shared helped them live better lives. Tips on agriculture, sanitation, energy, and construction—things most shinobi never thought about—turned out to be life-changing.
Sometimes, Logan voiced his views on the Daimyo, the world order, and politics. Most people didn't fully understand, but his words sparked conversations and made their way into family discussions like treasured proverbs.
With time, the crowd outside grew denser—ordinary citizens, not shinobi. And among the few remaining ninja attendees was one familiar figure.
Samui came every day.
She sat with quiet dedication, notebook in hand, recording Logan's every word. The once-empty book was now thick with annotations and diagrams.
As a Jōnin from Cloud Village, Samui had a broader perspective than a typical spy. She understood the implications of what Logan was teaching. Every page of her notes contained ideas and systems that, if implemented even partially, could boost the productivity of the Land of Lightning drastically.
What made it even more terrifying was that Logan's lessons were being absorbed by commoners—housewives, farmers, even ramen chefs.
This man... wasn't normal.
"You don't seem like someone from this world," Samui told him one evening. "More like an immortal from some higher realm who's come down with mature knowledge and fully-formed ideas."
Logan just smiled, noticing her packed backpack.
"You leaving?"
"Yes. I'd like to stay longer, but the village needs me," Samui said. "Before I go, I want to ask one question."
"Go ahead."
Samui glanced at the blackboard, then turned back.
"What do you get out of all this?"
Logan looked at the dispersing crowd of villagers, their faces lit with curiosity and joy after another lesson.
"I didn't expect to get anything at first," he said quietly. "But now... they're the greatest benefit to me."
> "The world has slightly shifted. Gained 1 soul fragment."
"The world has slightly shifted. Gained 0.5 soul fragments."
"The world has slightly shifted. Gained 0.8 soul fragments."
These system notifications had been popping up ever since Logan started teaching. No, it started even earlier—when he handed Konan that notebook.
That day, he received 300 soul essence in one go.
Now, with the school running, he earned five to ten soul fragments per day—even in a single village where attendance wasn't mandatory.
What if his teachings spread?
What if his ideas reached every village?
What if they became a required subject in every ninja school?
Would he gain 100 soul fragments a day?
500?
1,000?
Killing Yagura had only yielded a little over a thousand soul fragments.
That had seemed like a huge haul—but how many Yagura-level targets were there in the world?
Relying solely on battle and slaughter was unsustainable. Without a system guarantee, even if Logan fought his entire life, he wouldn't be able to draw many substitute cards—let alone reach the maximum evolution level.
Changing the world, even slightly, was a much more efficient path.
By improving productivity and planting the seeds of intellectual and moral awakening, Logan could nudge people's thinking—and slowly dismantle the twisted order of the ninja world.
And in doing so, he strengthened himself.
He glanced at Samui again. The thick notebook in her hand made him feel content.
Once she returned and shared this knowledge, a ripple would spread.
In the past, teachers might ask, "Did you learn from me?"
Logan, however, thought: You study for me.
---
Samui gazed at the man in front of her, then turned to watch the villagers laughing as they left.
She misunderstood his words.
Is the smile of others his greatest reward? she wondered.
For someone usually so composed and rational, the thought made her lips twitch. She tried to smile, wanting to offer something meaningful in return.
But she noticed Logan's face contorting, trying to hold back a laugh.
"I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I'm not very good at... smiling."
Logan waved her off.
"Then go back and practice. Show me next time we meet."
Those four simple words—"next time we meet"—added a warmth to their parting.
Samui nodded and bowed, then turned away.
The light in the clearing was still too bright, and Logan squinted slightly as he watched her disappear into the mist.
"You sad to see her go?" came a familiar voice.
It was Zabuza.
Logan didn't turn around. He gathered the notes from the table and replied,
"Of course. It's always a little hard when someone you know leaves."
Zabuza nodded and dragged over a chair, sitting beside him. His usual bold demeanor was replaced with hesitation and concern.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Logan said. "What's wrong?"
Zabuza frowned.
"The Daimyo's men are here," he said grimly. "But... something's not right."
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