Chapter 87: The Shock of the Truth

In an instant, a scorching pillar of fire erupted from Madara's mouth, rushing straight at the two guards. Where the flames passed, the surrounding rainwater evaporated instantly.

The two guards' eyes went stark wide; they had never seen such a terrifying Fire Release, and for a moment they actually forgot to dodge.

Just as the flames were about to devour the two, three voices rang out almost simultaneously: "Water Release: Water Formation Wall!"

Three powerful streams of water surged from different directions, colliding with the fire with a piercing "hiss-hiss" sound. A large amount of steam rose up, enveloping the entire battlefield.

The mist gradually dispersed, revealing three figures.

At the lead was an orange-haired youth, his gaze vigilantly sweeping the surroundings. On his left and right stood a red-haired man and a purple-haired woman. The three bore grave expressions, eyes fixed on Madara's direction.

Not far off, the other members of the Akatsuki organization swiftly arrived. In the blink of an eye, roughly twenty people had Madara completely surrounded. They looked alert, ready to strike at any moment.

Yahiko looked at the guards with a heavy expression and asked in a deep voice: "What happened?"

One of the guards hurriedly replied: "This person suddenly barged in; we stepped forward to stop him, and he launched an attack without a word!"

Konan narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Madara closely. She whispered a warning: "Careful, this person is not simple."

At this moment, Madara's gaze swept over the three, finally settling on Nagato. His eyes suddenly sharpened, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly: "As expected, he's here……"

Yahiko noticed Madara's reaction, his brows furrowing slightly.

He stepped forward, staring straight at Madara, and asked in a deep voice: "Who are you? Why did you barge into our base?"

"You should have heard of me." The corner of Madara's mouth hooked into a cold smile, his voice low: "My name is…… Uchiha Madara."

These simple four words were like a heavy hammer, smashing hard onto the hearts of everyone present.

Yahiko's pupils contracted sharply, his expression shifting from grave to shock, then to disbelief.

"Uchiha Madara? Impossible!" Konan cried out in alarm, subconsciously retreating half a step.

Yahiko gritted his teeth, his voice carrying doubt: "Uchiha Madara died many years ago. Who exactly are you? Why are you impersonating him?"

Madara looked at Yahiko's reaction and let out a cold laugh. "Impersonate?" His voice carried a trace of irony.

"Do you think an existence like me would easily vanish from the long river of history?"

Yahiko took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Regardless of whether the man before him was truly Uchiha Madara, his strength was clearly not to be underestimated.

"Even if you are Uchiha Madara," Yahiko said in a deep voice, "you cannot just barge into our base at will. What is your purpose in coming here?"

Madara spoke slowly: "I came here to take back what belongs to me."

His gaze pointed straight at Nagato, who involuntarily retreated half a step, a strange unease welling in his heart.

"Those eyes," Madara's voice was unhurried: "were originally mine. Now, it is time for them to return to their rightful owner."

Madara advanced step by step; with each step the surrounding air grew heavier. The Akatsuki members all gripped their weapons tight, ready to strike at any moment.

Yahiko and Konan subconsciously moved to block in front of Nagato.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Yahiko shouted sternly, "How could Nagato's eyes possibly be yours?"

Hearing Yahiko's question, the corner of Madara's mouth hooked into a cold smile. His gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on Nagato.

"Naive brats!" Madara said coldly, his voice full of disdain, "You really think those eyes are that easily obtained?"

He paused, then continued, his tone carrying a trace of pride: "These eyes are the power of the Sage of Six Paths, born from the fusion of my power and Hashirama Senju's!"

Madara stared straight into Nagato's eyes: "It was I who transplanted them into you when you were young. This is my gift to you, understand?"

These words were like a heavy hammer, striking hard at everyone present. Nagato only felt a buzz in his head; he stared wide-eyed in disbelief, his lips trembling slightly.

He had always believed these eyes were a responsibility bestowed on him by heaven, but now Madara said they were his "gift"? He recalled Jiraiya once saying he was the savior of prophecy precisely because of these eyes. Could it be that all of this was built on a lie?

Nagato stood in place, eyes vacant. He murmured to himself: "How can this be possible my eyes"

"Nagato!" Yahiko's voice suddenly rang out: "Don't believe what he says!"

At this moment Yahiko's voice pulled Nagato back from his thoughts, and immediately after he heard him continue:

"No matter where these eyes came from, they are now a part of you. It was you who used these eyes to protect us, to protect Akatsuki."

Konan also stepped forward, standing beside Nagato: "Yahiko is right, Nagato. Your worth lies not in these eyes, but in your conviction."

Hearing these words, the bewilderment in Nagato's eyes gradually faded, and he said softly: "Thank you"

Seeing this, the corner of Yahiko's mouth curled up slightly. He turned around, facing Uchiha Madara squarely: "If you don't leave, then we'll have to make a move!"

Madara looked coldly at Yahiko, the corner of his mouth hooking into a smile: "Oh? You want to dance too?"

Whoosh! The words barely fell when the surrounding Akatsuki members surged forward like a tide. Figures lunged at Madara almost simultaneously, the air instantly filling with killing intent.

A burly member struck first; the longsword in his hand flashed with cold light, slashing fiercely at Madara's face. The blade tore through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound.

"Too slow." Madara murmured, his voice full of disdain.

Madara didn't move a muscle; at the instant the blade was about to touch his nose, he tilted his head slightly, the sword wind brushing past his cheek with a whistle.

Without the slightest hesitation, his right hand shot out like lightning, accurately clamping onto the opponent's wrist.

"Crack!" The crisp sound of bone snapping accompanied a miserable shriek.

Madara gave a light twist; that member's wrist snapped instantly, the longsword reversing to pierce his own throat, fresh blood spurting out instantly.

Taking advantage of the opening, another member seized the chance. His right leg shot out like an arrow from a bow, lashing violently at Madara's waist.

Bang! Madara's left hand swept out, accurately clamping the opponent's ankle, and with a violent fling, that member instantly lost balance, flying out like a kite with a cut string.

"Ah——!"

Amid the miserable shriek, that member crashed heavily into his companion behind him. With a "bang", the two toppled to the ground like bowling pins.

A cold glint flashed in Madara's eyes; he released his right hand, and that longsword seized from the enemy instantly left his grip.

"Whoosh!"

The sharp blade tore through the air, emitting a piercing whistle. The two Akatsuki members who had just fallen had no time to climb up before the longsword whistled upon them.

"Pfft!"

Blood splattered; the longsword pierced straight through both bodies. The miserable shrieks cut off abruptly, leaving only faint groans. The two bodies twitched a few times, then moved no more.

Simultaneously, three cold lights flashed lightning-fast. Three Akatsuki members thrust their longswords at Madara's vitals at the same time. The blades tore through the air, emitting sharp whistles.

Madara snapped his head back, the Sharingan instantly sweeping over the three. In that instant, the three members felt their whole bodies plunge into an ice cellar, their movements freezing in place on the spot.

"Pfft!" The sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh rang out.

Before the three members could even react, the long swords in their own hands had already pierced through their own chests.

Fresh blood slowly trickled down the blades, pooling into a crimson stain on the ground.

More and more Akatsuki members attacked.

Madara's figure weaved through the people, his movements flowing like clouds and water, as if dancing an elegant dance. Every dodge was perfectly timed, every counterattack incomparably precise.

(Chapter End)