Politically and economically, the Daimyo was stronger than Konoha.

So if that minor noble wanted to hide a gold mine, he would naturally bribe the Daimyo.

The Daimyo’s reach meant he would always know first, long before Konoha ever could.

And what was Konoha, really? Fifty thousand people? Perhaps five to ten thousand shinobi at most, counting every official and unofficial fighter.

Compared to the Daimyo’s bureaucracy and network, they were a speck.

Besides, both sides had long since agreed not to interfere with each other’s domains.

Konoha handled war and killing, and the Daimyo handled politics and economy.

If the noble cut him in with a private share, the matter was finished. Konoha would never learn of it.

On paper, even that unified Land of Fire benefited Konoha.

In practice, their lack of manpower and administrative skill meant the Daimyo could outmaneuver them whenever he pleased.

Yet the truth was obvious: without Konoha, the Daimyo had nothing.

All his power rested on the superhuman bloodlines gathered in the village.

Alone, he was just a man in a world of monsters.

Konoha held him by the throat, no matter how sacred his lineage seemed.

There was no way for him to build such a force on his own.

Back in his past life, Ryusei had often wondered why the hidden villages didn’t just kill their Daimyo outright and take full control.

The answer was obvious now: if one village toppled its Daimyo, the remaining four great Daimyo would rally their villages in fear.

They’d use it as the perfect excuse to strike together, crush the offender, and split the spoils four ways without worrying about betrayal.

But that was only part of the truth.

The other part was numbers.

Konoha’s population was small compared to the Daimyo’s territories, and if those civilians ever rose en masse, they could drown shinobi forces in sheer volume.

Even ordinary soldiers here were tougher than the men from Ryusei’s old world, thanks to chakra strengthening their baseline bodies.

Add to that Konoha’s total lack of governing ability; they excelled at war and bloodshed, not ruling states.

Tobirama wasn’t stupid, yet even he never considered overthrowing the Daimyo. Why?

Because what would shinobi even do with a country afterward?

In the end, shinobi were demigods living in a small pond called Konoha, while millions of civilians across farms, towns, and cities made up the ocean.

To those people, shinobi weren’t rulers; they were legends, weapons, and untouchable stars.

And Ryusei knew: despite the danger, he was lucky to be reborn in Konoha.

There was nowhere else in this world with that kind of power concentrated in one place.

After reading through the war records, Ryusei finally understood why ordinary forces like soldiers and cavalry were never involved in the great shinobi wars.

It wasn’t because they were useless. In truth, if hundreds of thousands were ever mobilized together, they could absolutely sway a battle.

But they never did. Why? Because this world was still fractured, ruled by a patchwork of feudal lords.

The so-called five great nations were only symbols, loose federations bound together by the might of their hidden villages.

Each daimyo paid his village for collective ‘protection’ against the other four.

The rest of the feudal armies kept fighting small wars with their neighbors, their true rivals not across oceans or deserts but right next door.

There was no real sense of “nation,” no shared culture or identity.

Just countless territories ruled by bloodlines clinging to their local power.

That was why the shinobi stood at the center of every major war.

The five hidden villages fought one another for influence over the scattered feudal domains, and the daimyos ruled as figureheads propped up by courts of bureaucrats and experts.

The soldiers remained in the background, pawns in petty border feuds, while the shinobi shaped history.

Meanwhile, Ryusei sensed his teammates were slowly gaining the upper hand against his uncle’s two clones, was forced out of his long thought chain, and asked strangely, “Uncle, aren’t those Shadow Clones?”

“No, Earth clones,” Kazuo replied. “They’re weaker than Shadow Clones. Not to mention that I also left another 50% chakra Shadow Clone back there before I left. I instinctively didn’t want to use Shadow Clones right away before talking to you first. After all, I know I need to keep them alive if I want to keep you alive. And if they reported I used Shadow Clones, it could eventually be traced back to me and my group.”

He said it as if he truly cared for Ryusei.

Ryusei felt relieved. “You did well, uncle. In that case, all of my plans regarding you all can still be attempted.”

“Your plans? You want to join us, too?” Kazuo asked, a little surprised.

Truthfully, he wished Ryusei would leave Konoha and come with them.

But he knew it was impossible.

They couldn’t shield him from the pursuit that would follow, and in the end, they’d all just be more easily exposed and die with him.

After all, 30 years have passed, and Konoha might have forgotten about them, but not about Ryusei.

That was why he never recommended it himself.

At best, his own plan was to give up on today’s gold, let themselves be ‘defeated’ by Ryusei’s team, and quietly retreat.

They could always find another shipment later.

Before leaving, he intended to give Ryusei a few words of encouragement, maybe a promise that one day they would rise together and strike at the Hokage’s faction from ‘inside and outside’.

But even as he thought it, he knew how improbable that really was.

So when Ryusei suddenly spoke in that way, it embarrassed him, as if the boy had misunderstood and thought Kazuo wanted him to join them.

Feeling awkward, already turning over how to gently refuse, he then heard Ryusei continue.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, uncle. Just hear me out. Funnily enough, I could actually join you now without dragging you down. It’s simple: fake my death here, make the body disappear in a way that looks believable, and I vanish. Easy, right?”

The older man frowned. “…And why not?”

“Because I’d never choose that. Do you know why? That ties into why your whole plan is lacking. Konoha is the center of everything: opportunity, powerful bloodlines, and techniques. If the Senju want to rise again, we need to absorb some of that, too. In danger lies opportunity. They see the upcoming war as my death sentence, but I see it as the perfect cover to grow strong in the chaos – if I can navigate it right.”

His uncle’s eyes narrowed. “You think my plan is wrong?”

“Not just wrong. Fatal. Keep at it, and in five or ten years, you’ll be discovered and dead. Let me explain. You think Konoha won’t find you? The moment the Daimyo reports you missing, they’ll tear the country apart looking. For example, Tobirama alone could sense across small nations. He’s gone, sure, but plenty of strong sensors remain in great numbers. They could find you anywhere inside the Land of Fire eventually. Even leaving for other smaller countries, outside the Land of Fire, also puts you at risk; after all, they are about to become the main battlefield during the next war, full of watchful eyes of all kinds of shinobi. Other great nations? Same problem. Konoha has ROOT in every corner, Jiraiya’s new spy network, for example, too, and during war, they’re sharper than ever. Other Great Nations’ hidden village could kill you themselves out of suspicion of your previous ties to Konoha, or tip Konoha off just for a favor if they realise that you are their enemies, if you go there too.”

The uncle stayed silent, jaw tight.

“The truth is, the Daimyo’s palace is the safest place in the entire world for you. He is the sole reason you are still alive. Step outside, and it’s certain death. And don’t even think of stealing my fake death idea. What would you use as cover? The Daimyo’s so-called fictional ‘enemies’?”

“Strong enough to wipe you all out? Or maybe the Daimyo’s own forces, once they notice your ‘betrayal’ in time? Either way, it wouldn’t add up. Do you really think anyone would believe you fell in battle that easily, if you had even a shred of intelligence? Konoha wouldn’t. Not for a second.”

The old man’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to argue, but nothing came.

“And say you do grow in numbers, large families hidden away. How long could that stay secret? Local lords with hundreds of years of heritage, you think no one notices something off around them?”

“Use your head. And those women you’ve taken, civilian bloodlines? That’s not revival, that’s dilution. At most, you’re just lustful. That doesn’t restore the Senju name. It destroys it further.”

Ryusei’s voice turned sharp, deliberately harsh. “At the end of the day, uncle, you weren’t building a future. You were just indulging yourself. This is the only way I can get you to wake up .”

Kazuo grew agitated, but then forced himself to calm down. He studied his nephew as if meeting him for the first time, which he truly was.

He hadn’t expected this level of sharpness.”You sound like you have a better plan,” he said at last. “So stop circling around it, and let’s hear it.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep