The news of Uchiha Yao's sudden ascent—instantly neutralizing Uchiha Gang and dismantling Uchiha Mao—rippled through the clan's lower circles like a stone cast into a stagnant pond.
Naturally, the initial shock was followed by a tide of skepticism. A "waste" who had served as the clan's collective doorstop for years doesn't simply erupt with mid-level Shinobi prowess overnight. To many, the tale seemed exaggerated, a fluke born of Mao's own negligence.
Yao, however, remained deaf to the whispers. He maintained a suffocatingly low profile.
He was under no illusions. While his strength had surged, he was still a minnow in a sea of sharks. Forget the Kage-level titans who moved mountains; even a seasoned Jonin or an Elite Chunin possessed enough raw experience to suppress him entirely.
Furthermore, a new shadow loomed: Uchiha Mao's parents were both active Jonin within the Military Police Force. Yao, a war orphan with no backing and no lineage to speak of, had to play a delicate game. In the world of the Uchiha, "beating the child often brings out the elders."
To survive the inevitable blowback, he needed more than just a System—he needed a body that could keep up with it.
Day after day, Yao appeared at the clan's public training grounds. He threw himself into the monotonous, grueling labor of the fundamentals: Shuriken distribution, Taijutsu forms, and precise Chakra manipulation.
He practiced his Shurikenjutsu without the aid of his Sharingan. Relying solely on his refined physical coordination, he began consistently burying seven or eight out of ten blades into the dead center of the bullseye. It was a feat that would have been a physical impossibility for the previous tenant of his body.
But even in the pursuit of silence, trouble has a way of finding the Uchiha.
At the edge of the training field, Yao's ears caught the crunch of approaching footsteps. He turned slowly.
Leading the group was a youth he recognized: Uchiha Yong, Mao's cousin. His stance was aggressive, his aura hovering at the threshold of a Chunin.
So, he's here to settle Mao's debt, Yao thought, his expression remaining a mask of indifference.
Yong stood with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in blatant provocation. "I've heard your strength has taken a leap recently. Even managed to put Mao in the dirt?"
"It was a fluke," Yao replied flatly, turning back toward his targets.
"A fluke?" Yong sneered, his tone dripping with acidic jealousy. "Dismantling three people isn't something you can hand-wave away. How about this? We spar. Let's see exactly how much substance this 'fluke' of yours really has."
Yong pushed forward, his intent clear. Despite the rumors, he remained convinced that Mao had simply been caught off guard by a desperate, lucky strike from a cornered rat.
"Fine."
Yao did not hesitate. He stepped into the clearing, meeting Yong's challenge head-on. He understood the social currency of the Uchiha: to shrink away now would only invite a never-ending line of challengers. Low-profile tactics were for those facing unshakeable walls; against these minor obstacles, the only solution was a display of force so absolute it acted as a permanent deterrent.
In the center of the dusty clearing, the two squared off.
Yong acted first. His fingers blurred through a sequence of signs. "Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!"
He exhaled, and several fist-sized fireballs erupted from his mouth, scattering in a chaotic, flower-like pattern. They curved through the air, converging on Yao from multiple angles with terrifying precision. It was a technique that demanded more control than any academy-level Genin could muster.
Yao's gaze sharpened. A crimson flash ignited in his orbs as the One-Tomoe Sharingan hummed to life.
He didn't move to block. Instead, he pushed off the ground, his body turning into a ghost-like blur. He wove through the gaps between the searing projectiles with a fluid, seamless grace, the heat of the flames licking at his clothes but never finding purchase.
"What?!"
Yong's pupils contracted. He hadn't expected such predatory agility.
Before he could reset his stance, Yao was already inside his guard. He didn't use a secret art or a complex maneuver; he simply launched a direct, lightning-fast straight punch.
Yong barely managed to cross his arms in a desperate block.
Bang!
The impact sounded like a heavy mallet hitting a drum. A massive, staggering force surged through Yong's forearms, numbing them instantly. His heels scraped against the dirt as he was sent reeling back seven or eight steps.
"Such... such power!" Yong's heart hammered against his ribs. The force of that single strike was leagues beyond his own. This wasn't a fluke; it was a total disparity in quality.
Yao didn't press the opening. He stood perfectly still, his red eyes boring into Yong's. "Do you wish to continue?"
Yong's face shifted through a spectrum of humiliation—from flushed green to a sickly pale. His arms ached with a deep, bone-deep throb, nearly useless for forming further seals.
He knew that to continue would be to court public disgrace. The "waste" he once knew was gone, replaced by something cold and formidable.
"Hmph... you've got some skill, I'll give you that!" Yong spat a face-saving remark, turning on his heel and scurrying away with his followers trailing behind him.
Yao watched them go before turning back to his shuriken.
These tests were annoying, but necessary. Each one was a brick in the foundation of his new persona: the "Awakened Uchiha Genius." To seize power within the clan, he needed more than raw strength; he needed the weight of prestige and the recognition of the elders.
His eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the headquarters of the Military Police Force stood. That was his true destination. The stepping stone to the heart of the Uchiha.
Attribute Panel:
Strength: Early Chunin
Skills: Three-Body Technique (Proficient), Great Fireball Technique (Proficient), Sharingan (One-Tomoe)
Clan Status: Regular Genin
Clan Glory Points: 75 (Repelled Uchiha Yong; minor prestige boost +25)
Overall Clan Strength: Genin Level (Early)