Madara believed the creature beside him to be his own creation, born of his will to carry on the Eye of the Moon Plan after his death.

In truth, he had only given form to something far older and infinitely more cunning.

Black Zetsu was no mere extension of Madara’s mind, though the old man clung to that illusion.

It had existed long before him, born from Kaguya Ōtsutsuki’s will just before she was sealed away.

Its one purpose had never changed, to bring her back, no matter how many centuries or lives it would take.

Since that day, it had threaded itself through history, nudging wars, whispering to chosen heirs, rewriting truths.

It had twisted Indra’s pride, altered Hagoromo’s stone tablet, and planted the dream of the Infinite Tsukuyomi into the Uchiha’s faith like a seed.

Every war and every reincarnation of Hagoromo’s sons had been part of the same quiet pattern, arranged from the shadows while the world forgot it even existed.

When Madara fell at the Valley of the End, Black Zetsu simply waited.

The moment Hashirama’s flesh and Madara’s body met, it slipped inside him like a ghost returning to its host.

From then on, it whispered only what Madara wanted to hear, until the man convinced himself he had created it later.

Now, decades later, it stood quietly at his side, nodding as the old warlord spoke.

“The Uchiha are being heavily purged quietly by Konoha’s command during this war.”

Madara said, his tone dry and distant. “But since they chose to abandon me and kneel to the village, let them rot. They made their choice.”

His gaze drifted toward the cavern wall, unfocused. “If not for Fugaku, that current patriarch, moving carefully behind the scenes, their clan would already be completely broken.”

“Were he not so bound to those structures due to his role, and having such illusions about Konoha, I might have recruited him as I did Obito. His strength could’ve been useful too.”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Still, at least Obito is ours — shaped, trained, and fully loyal. The Uchiha with the highest potential I have ever seen besides myself so far.”

White Zetsu, who had been half-listening, tilted his head.

“Speaking of Obito… he’s waking up.”

A grin spread across his pale face

Madara exhaled through his nose, a sound that might’ve been a faint chuckle.

“Then we should finish this before he comes.”

His tone grew firm again. “The time is near. Obito’s training is done. Soon Nagato will face his trial, and that will be our opening.”

“Obito will intervene, guide him, and make sure he walks the path we’ve set. From there, everything will move according to plan.”

He looked between the two halves of Zetsu. “Go with him. Make sure every detail falls into place. This will be his first real test, a chance to prove his loyalty. I won’t live to see it, so he’ll need you until Nagato can revive me.”

Madara’s voice lowered, rough but steady. “That’s why I entrusted him with this role. The Rinnegan I gave the boy will do what I can’t. When the time comes, he’ll bring me back.”

Black Zetsu nodded once, unreadable as always. 

Madara leaned back again, the tree behind him pulsing faintly.

“Peace through the Moon’s Eye… everything is aligned.”

He closed his eyes, content in the illusion of control.

Across from him, Black Zetsu’s expression didn’t change, but its thoughts were calm and sharp. 

The ancient will of Kaguya had waited a thousand years.

A few more decades meant nothing.

And as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed deeper in the cave, Black Zetsu turned its gaze toward the entrance.

Obito Uchiha, the pawn of his own pawn, was finally awake.

Madara had always respected power above all else, especially when it came from his own bloodline.

So it was no surprise that the one he ultimately chose to inherit his will was a Uchiha.

Obito wasn’t picked by chance; he was the result of long observation and careful timing.

The White Zetsu network had monitored countless candidates across the years, but Obito stood out.

His heart was bright, his spirit unusually kind for a Uchiha.

That was precisely why Madara first took an interest.

A heart that pure, once broken, would collapse violently, and the power born from that kind of emotional inversion was the kind that could shake the world.

Madara had been right.

Obito’s Mangekyō was terrifying.

Even Madara, who had seen everything the Sharingan could do, had to pause when he realized the boy’s ability surpassed even the Flying Raijin in versatility.

A space-time jutsu that could erase a body from the physical plane and reappear anywhere, it was perfect.

When the White Zetsu network, constantly beneath him spying, saved Obito’s crushed body, Madara acted quickly.

To save and remake him as even a better tool, seizing that perfect moment when the boy’s body and spirit were both hollowed out, Madara grafted Obito’s shattered frame with white tissue grown from the God Tree’s essence and a clone cultivated from Hashirama’s cells.

The cells replaced his ruined limbs, perfectly stabilized his body in a natural way, and bound him to life, turning his recovery into the first step of his manipulation.

He also placed a secret seal around the boy’s heart, ensuring control in case of rebellion.

At the time, he didn’t yet know the exact shape of Obito’s ability, only that his Sharingan had awakened with shocking speed and potency, straight to two tomoe.

It was a pity, he thought, that the boy had wasted one eye on his teammate already.

But eyes could be reclaimed later.

Once the boy accepted his philosophy, retrieving the other eye would be simple, or unnecessary if it proved redundant.

Later, when Madara finally understood how powerful that single Kamui truly was, he really dropped the idea altogether.

That eye alone was more than enough.

By then, the boy’s devotion to his new purpose had also already hardened into something absolute.

There was no point in forcing him into open conflict with his former comrade too soon.

If the time ever came, he’d turn on that former teammate himself, with Twin Zetsu at his side, the moment their plans were truly at risk.

Of course, devotion didn’t come naturally. It had to be forged. Madara made sure of that.

Using his long-range genjutsu woven through the White Zetsu network, pre-sealed within them to trigger at his command, he subtly steered the minds of Kirigakure’s shinobi, a village already notorious for unstable jinchūriki and flawed sealing methods.

At the time, the Three-Tails was being transferred into a new host.

Madara twisted their minds just enough to turn that host, Rin Nohara, into a living trap, a ‘kamikaze’ meant to unleash the beast in Konoha’s ranks.

He knew exactly what that would do to Obito.

The moment the boy watched the girl die at Kakashi’s hand, everything broke. Love inverted into hatred. Hope into despair. And in that instant, Madara had his new pawn completely. The brainwashing that followed was barely necessary.

With Obito secured, only one piece remained — Nagato.

Obito possessed the Uchiha’s spiritual power and visual prowess, but not the physical endurance or vitality to sustain both Rinnegan eyes for long.

Only someone of Uzumaki or Senju lineage could do that, someone born with overwhelming vitality and chakra reserves in their physique.

Nagato was that one in the entire world, the only being found alive gifted to be capable of nourishing and wielding those eyes until Madara’s return then.

Nagato had been carefully marked by the White Zetsu network when he was still a child and soon secretly implanted with the Rinnegan that Madara himself had awakened in old age, too late to escape death.

Out of countless candidates observed across the world, Nagato was the only one who truly fit the role Madara needed.

When the time came, Obito, already molded by Madara’s teachings in both power and wisdom, would act with Black and White Zetsu helpers beside him to guide Nagato onto the path Madara had chosen, by persuasion if possible, by force if not.

That was the cornerstone of his entire plan.

Once Nagato mastered the Rinnegan enough to use the Rinne Rebirth, he would revive Madara at the cost of his own life.

Then, with the tailed beasts collected and the Infinite Tsukuyomi prepared, or not yet, Madara would personally complete the cycle, finally ending the world’s endless bloodshed in the only way he ever believed possible.

A world where no one would ever betray or be betrayed again.

Where the cycle of war would die, even if it meant the freedom of all men had to die with it.

That, in Madara’s eyes, was true peace.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep