In the space between life and death, between the crack of the Pure Land and the living world, many strange souls existed. Some had regrets, some had not entrusted their last words to their loved ones. They waited here, unliberated, like dim candlelight, separated by the sky, never able to get close.
Of course, in this space, only one faintly glowing figure floated above. He sat in the void with his eyes closed, wearing a white Ninshu robe, carrying a monk's staff, with nine pitch-black orbs floating beneath him. The Sage of Six Paths.
Or rather, this was his residual chakra. Even when his life came to an end, his chakra could drift in the world in this form, still stubbornly protecting the ninja world.
It was precisely because of this existence that Shirou had always been cautious. In the ancient era, he chose to disguise himself as a truly benevolent wise man, establishing the way of the medical ninja, which was even greater than the slogan of Ninshu, precisely because he needed to use a grand cause to deceive the Sage.
After all, the Sage could not be judged by common sense. Before Shirou was truly sure he could contend with him, he would never choose to rashly contact him. He had never even seen him.
The Sage had wanted to meet Shirou while he was alive, but Shirou always refused on the grounds of healing the sick. Only after the Sage died did Shirou choose to take the risk of stealing his remains.
Shirou died. After his death, his chakra was also powerful enough to allow his soul to wander freely. He had observed the Sage's residual chakra more than once, but had never chosen to approach it.
He was even worried about being detected and would occasionally take the initiative to help the souls trapped here find liberation.
Sometimes, Shirou even felt he was a good person. From the ancient era to this era, facing anyone's questioning, he could say with a clear conscience that he had never done a single evil deed. Even the good deeds done by the Sage and his descendants combined were far from comparable to his own.
Occasionally killing a person or two was just playing the role of punishing evil in a chaotic order.
After all, if some evildoers jumped in his face, they must have been dissatisfied with this life and wanted to be reincarnated.
For any reason, Shirou's actions should not have aroused the Sage's vigilance, but he still needed to be extra careful. As a transmigrator in this strange world, one could never be too careful.
He needed to find a way to test one last time whether the Sage would worry about him, a person from ancient times, doing some small things in an era a thousand years later.
Senju Hashirama, whose life was about to end, was also the most suitable person to test this. If the Sage was worried, he would surely save Hashirama. If he was indifferent, Hashirama would only die of old age.
Of course, judging from Hashirama's state, this First Hokage was still full of vitality. When Shirou arrived at his house, he saw him playing dice with a pale and chubby little girl.
A mat was spread on the floor. Hashirama sat cross-legged, his expression serious, looking even more earnest than when he fought Madara. His hand was tightly pressing down on a dice cup.
"Tsunade, bet big or small!"
"Mmm..." The little girl was also exceptionally serious. She bit her finger, looking conflicted, before moving her New Year's money to one side. "Big!"
"Then I'm opening it!" Hashirama lifted the cup. The three dice only had one dot on top. "Three ones, small!" He couldn't help but laugh out loud, as if being able to win against a child also made him very satisfied. "Hahahaha... Little Tsuna, you lost again!"
"Great-Grandpa cheated!" the little girl pouted.
"Great-Grandpa didn't cheat," he spread his hands to show he had done nothing. "Little Tsuna, once you're at the gambling table, you have to accept any result, because we chose to gamble ourselves. If you lose, you just have to admit defeat."
"But I've never won once," she said, dissatisfied. "I've been learning for so long. The sound of the dice was clearly small, how could I still lose?"
"Maybe it's a matter of luck," Hashirama's face was full of satisfaction. Because he knew he hadn't cheated. When he gambled with this little granddaughter, he found that his gambling luck was always extraordinarily good.
For someone who liked to gamble, there was nothing more joyful than meeting an opponent with extremely bad luck.
But the little Tsunade with extremely bad luck seemed to be in a not-so-good mood. Hashirama knew his little granddaughter well.
He picked up a stack of money and handed it to her. "This is money Great-Grandpa is lending you, no interest. Now you have money, do you want to keep playing?"
"Play!" Little Tsunade's face immediately lit up with a smile as she started counting the money.
When Tobirama saw this scene, his expression was somewhat unpredictable, sometimes turning very ugly, and sometimes becoming somewhat relieved. He didn't want to see his brother being so improper even when taking care of a child, but he also knew his life was coming to an end, and he didn't want to disturb his only remaining pleasure.
"Hmm?" Hashirama turned his head and saw Tobirama and Shirou, and his eyes immediately lit up. "Has Lord Emiya returned?"
He was happy to see him. They had often met over the past ten years and were familiar old friends.
He quickly called for Shirou to sit over and introduced the little one opposite him. "This is Little Tsuna, Tsunade, my granddaughter."
He secretly looked at her as she was still counting her money and whispered in Shirou's ear, "Little Tsuna's luck is very bad. As long as you gamble with her, you'll definitely win!"
After saying this, he very enthusiastically invited Shirou to join the game. "Would Lord Emiya like to try a game? Winning money is very nice."
"Brother," Tobirama looked at him with some helplessness.
This kind of thing... is obviously impossible!
How could a great figure like Emiya Shirou possibly gamble?
According to the information I've secretly received, he only does three things: searching for God Tree remnants, healing the sick, and writing medical records.
How could such a person be tainted with such a bad habit?