Chapter 16, First Mission

The dining table at the Uchiha clan head's house was silent, with only the faint sound of bowls and chopsticks clinking together.

Yan Sheng sat upright, his back ramrod straight, his chopsticks held in a posture as perfect as a model of etiquette. He chewed his food in small bites, each movement exuding an elegance that seemed innate.

Uchiha Tajima's gaze seemingly casually swept over his youngest son at the end of the table.

The child's demeanor was impeccable; even the angle of his fingertips was as precise as if measured with a ruler, exuding the elegance of an ancient noble family.

Although their ancestors were nobles, and even though they later became a ninja clan, many deeply ingrained habits and upbringing were passed down from generation to generation without interruption.

But Yan Sheng... he's gone a bit too far. His composure and restraint beyond his years, his almost rigid manners and strict standards for himself, have already surpassed his teacher.

Even if Tajima was very strict, he could not say a single critical word about his youngest son.

Tajima nodded almost imperceptibly, a hint of satisfaction showing deep in his eyes.

Very good. This is how the descendants of the Uchiha should be. Their inherent nobility is completely different from those Senju who only know how to be brave and violent and whose words and deeds are crude.

However, this overly quiet calm and impeccable etiquette, like a mirror, reflects both the Uchiha clan's proud "inheritance" and a subtle sense of alienation.

The slight satisfaction in Tajima's heart quietly faded away, replaced by a very faint sense of caution that even he himself did not immediately notice.

Even the most disciplined children in the clan would always have a hint of the sharpness or liveliness of a ninja in their eyes and brows, but in Yan Sheng, he only saw an overly smooth ice surface, unable to see the slightest ripple beneath.

This calm and restrained temperament would be a highly desirable quality in an ordinary family. However, for ninjas who walk on the edge of a knife and fight to the death, especially for the Uchiha clan who need strong emotions to unleash the power deep within their bloodline, it is a flaw.

The Uchiha clan's strength stems from their intense, fiery emotions. Their love and hate are clearly defined, their obsessions profound; only extreme pain and ecstasy can nurture the dangerous and eerie flower that is the Sharingan. Excessive calm and composure, a state of utter indifference, is like forcibly sealing surging lava within an ice shell, not only isolating it from external harm but also completely extinguishing any possibility of inner fire.

If the youngest son were a healthy, ordinary child, displaying such a quiet, almost withered temperament, Tajima, as the head of the clan, might have been deeply worried about it. Or rather, five years ago, when he caught a glimpse of the child's breathtaking talent, he would have been extremely anxious.

How could an Uchiha, whose heart needs intense emotions to blossom, remain calm and composed?

But now, that initial amazement that once dazzled him was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, long since vanished without a trace. Having already accepted that his youngest son was destined for mediocrity, it seemed insignificant for his temperament to deviate further from the Uchiha's usual path.

In any case, he no longer pinned his hopes for revitalizing the family on this sickly young son who seemed to collapse at the slightest breeze.

It's already a miracle if the young child can survive and grow up.

***

If Yan Sheng knew that Tajima no longer had any expectations of him, he would definitely... well, remain completely calm.

His current "mediocrity" is surely intentional.

Including his previous life, he has lived for over three hundred years. The long passage of time has long since washed away all worldly desires and ambitions. Now, what sustains his existence is only one almost obsessive thought—he wants to see with his own eyes what the world looks like as seen through Yoriichi's eyes.

What kind of sights would the Son of God, born standing on the clouds, see? Would all things reveal entirely different essences? Could he truly glimpse the rules and truths that govern the world?

...In his previous life, he devoted his entire life to chasing that silhouette, trying to reach that landscape that only the children of God could see.

Unfortunately, he failed.

Even more tragically, in the long pursuit, he had unknowingly strayed from the right path, lost in the mire of jealousy and obsession, without realizing it.

Until finally, in the reflection of the cold blade, he suddenly glimpsed his own twisted, ugly, and terrifying form.

At that moment, the will that had sustained him for hundreds of years suddenly collapsed. Along with it, his ghostly body, which he had formed by "obsession," also irrevocably disintegrated.

***

Inside the Uchiha clan head's mansion.

Yan Sheng stood quietly in the center of the study. At five years old, he was thin and frail, and the oversized tribal robes made him look even more delicate.

“Father,” his voice was calm and even, “I want to take on a mission.”

Tajima lifted his eyes from the scroll, his gaze falling on the young child. The child's pale face was expressionless, his dark eyes calm and indifferent.

It was rare for Yan Sheng to make a request, especially something like this... Though he was frail and sickly, he still had Uchiha blood flowing through his veins. A simple gathering task was harmless...

“Okay.” Tajima stood up, took a scroll from the bookshelf, spread it out on the table, and stamped it with his seal. “Go to the herb garden and collect ten hemostatic herbs. Remember, do not leave the clan’s territory barrier.”

Yan Sheng accepted the scroll, clasped his hands in a gesture of respect, and said, "Thank you, Father."

The main gate of the clan's territory.

Uchiha Kazumasa, who was on duty today, was idly playing with shuriken. He paused for a moment when he saw the small, thin figure approaching.

"Young Master Yan Sheng?" He Hong instinctively straightened up. "What's wrong...?"

Yan Sheng unfolded the mission scroll: "Go out on a mission."

He Hong examined the scroll and, seeing that it was the lowest-level gathering task, nodded knowingly: "Do you need me to send someone to accompany you?"

"No need."

Watching the small, thin figure gradually disappear from sight, He Hong paid no further attention. Although the clan chief's youngest son was known for his frail health, this gathering task was very simple and wouldn't require him to leave the clan's territory. The herb garden was right next to the clan's residential area, so it should be fine.

Moreover, this task was clearly given by the clan chief, and it even bears the clan chief's seal. Since the clan chief didn't feel any danger, why should he think so much?

—If Yan Sheng really went to collect herbs honestly.

Stepping out of the clan's protective barrier, Yan Sheng took a deep breath. This was the first time in five years that he had breathed in outside air.

Towering ancient trees provide ample shade, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows. In the distance, the babbling of a stream drifts by, mingled with the calls of unidentified birds. The air is filled with the fresh scent of earth and vegetation.

Yan Sheng did not rush to collect herbs, but instead walked slowly along the forest path. His footsteps were very light, making almost no sound.

...It's even more primitive than I imagined. He's already walked almost ten kilometers (not at a normal pace) and hasn't seen a single person, let alone villages or towns. It seems this world's current level of science is quite low, though it's also possible they live in a very remote area.

The further they went, the denser the forest became. Yan Sheng keenly sensed several hidden traps—clearly defensive fortifications set up by the Uchiha.

That's all for now.

He stopped and began to collect the hemostatic herbs he needed.

The hemostatic herb grows in the Uchiha clan's herb garden and also in the wild. It's not rare, but it's not exactly common either. Plus, its appearance is ordinary, resembling common weeds, making it difficult for inexperienced people to distinguish. This is why the Uchiha clan specifically cultivates hemostatic herbs.

Just as Yan Sheng squatted down, a figure appeared silently behind him.

"Heh, a brat from the Uchiha clan?" a hoarse voice rang out. "A lone Uchiha kid, that's quite a sight."

Yan Sheng paused in pulling weeds, stood up and looked at the wandering ninja behind him wearing tattered armor and bearing hideous scars on his face.

"What? Scared out of your wits?" The ninja sneered as he drew his kunai. "Blame it on the fact that you were born into the wrong family!"

Yan Sheng remained expressionless, silently putting the hemostatic herb into his ninja tool bag.

"Die!" The ninja charged forward, his kunai aimed straight for Yan Sheng's throat!

Just as the kunai was about to touch the skin—

"Pfft!"

The ninja's forward momentum abruptly halted. He looked down in disbelief and saw a kunai stuck in his chest.

"When...?" He looked up with difficulty, meeting Yan Sheng's unfathomable black eyes.

Yan Sheng subtly sidestepped, avoiding the splattered blood. His movements were neither hurried nor slow, and his evasion was perfectly timed.

"You...can't...be...able..." The ninja collapsed to the ground, dying without understanding why he had been defeated by a frail child.

Yan Sheng crouched down, pulled the kunai from the corpse, and carefully wiped away the bloodstains with the corpse's clothes. His hand was incredibly steady, as if he had just casually swatted a fly.

"Too slow," he muttered to himself, whether he was commenting on the enemy's speed or something else was unclear.

After carefully storing the cleaned kunai, Yan Sheng dragged the corpse to a secluded spot and quickly cleaned up the scene. He then spent some time gathering hemostatic herbs before returning to his clan's territory.

***

Uchiha Tajima looked up from the pile of scrolls and his gaze fell on his young son, who was standing quietly in front of the desk.

Yan Sheng lowered his head slightly, holding ten hemostatic herbs steadily in his hands. The leaves were neat, and the soil on the roots had been carefully cleaned.

Tajima's gaze lingered on the herbs for a moment, silently calculating the time. Compared to the lively children in the clan who could complete such tasks in a flash, Yan Sheng's time was undoubtedly slow. But then, thinking of the child's frail constitution, that negligible difference in efficiency was immediately justified.

—It is already quite an achievement to be able to complete it independently.

Thinking of this, Tajima said nothing more, but took out two copper coins from his pocket and handed them over. This was the reward for picking ten hemostatic herbs.

Yan Sheng extended his pale, slender hand, took the copper coin, and put it into his pocket. Throughout the entire process, he kept his eyes slightly lowered, his expression respectful. Yet, this respect also carried a hint of aloofness.

"Father, if there are no other instructions, I will take my leave."

After receiving a silent nod from Tajima, Yan Sheng turned and left, his wide clan robe barely fluttering as he quickly disappeared into the shadows of the porch.

Tajima's gaze lingered for a moment on the empty doorway before he buried himself back in his desk.

A note from the author:

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[Sprinkling flowers]