This was the question posed by A, and in fact, also a question the Third Raikage had asked.

After all, the reasoning sounded solid—cutting down on missions to train more shinobi.

But that was just theory.

In the actual system of shinobi villages, mission volume equaled influence, income, military projection—a mix of all core interests. It was the lifeblood of any village.

Even if the goal was to train shinobi, they would never drastically reduce the number of missions. That would be like chopping off their own legs.

Under the traditional shinobi system, the Hidden Leaf was undoubtedly walking a self-destructive path.

So the Third Raikage didn’t understand. Neither did the Elders of the Hidden Cloud.

After all, this combination of industrialization, commercialization, and gamification was so abstract and unconventional that the more traditional a village was, the less it could comprehend. Without omniscient perspective, it was hard to see whether this change was good or bad.

Some of the Hidden Cloud’s elders even mocked the Hidden Leaf, thinking they’d earned some flashy profits but were really undermining their own influence and deterrence.

A shinobi village that loses those things also loses its power to attract talent and train shinobi. It could even provoke its daimyo’s displeasure and result in punishment.

Just reducing the annual funding from the Land of Fire would cause devastating losses for the Hidden Leaf. But without seeing the actual financial reports, the other villages had no idea how rich the Leaf had become.

To them, it was like a farmer imagining an emperor’s life meant using a golden hoe to till fields. Unless the Hidden Leaf disclosed its earnings, the others would continue to underestimate it. They assumed the Leaf’s new approach was only marginally better than regular missions—maybe twice as profitable at most.

And even that made them envious.

Thinking the Leaf had stumbled into a windfall, the other villages grew restless. If the Leaf was so stupid as to weaken itself, then the others saw it as the perfect opportunity—

“If the neighbor is hoarding grain, I hoard guns. The neighbor becomes my granary.”

They were all just waiting for the war to start so they could rob the Leaf blind.

Some even laughed at Hiruzen Sarutobi, saying he had truly gone senile. That he was so blind with greed he threw away the very foundation of the village. Utterly foolish.

And if Hiruzen knew what they were thinking? He’d probably nod in agreement:

“Yes, this old man is definitely senile. Please continue to think so. Completely hopeless, right?”

Then he’d glance at the financial reports—profits twenty times what they used to be and still rising—and quietly whisper, “You’re all absolutely right. I’m just a useless old fool.”

That was the attitude the Hidden Cloud had, and the Hidden Stone and Hidden Mist were no different. Three of the Five Great Nations, all baffled by the Leaf’s reforms, concluded the same thing: The Third Hokage had lost his edge and was making poor decisions under the lure of quick money.

Though anyone with business sense could see the Leaf’s economic empire expanding rapidly, shinobi villages were militaristic organizations. They had no eye for commerce. The more conservative elders scoffed at it like warlords sneering at merchants.

So while a great invisible hand quietly enveloped the shinobi world, the major villages reacted sluggishly. They all prepared for the upcoming war and hoped to loot the Leaf afterward—but none dared start the war themselves. They all wanted someone else to fire the first shot.

Everyone was playing 4D chess.

And so, the war never started. Everyone was waiting.

Waiting for someone to make the first move.

And everyone assumed that move would come from the Land of Wind.

After all, they had suffered the most in the last two Great Ninja Wars. Their reparations would take thirty years to pay off. Every year, vast funds went to war debts.

Already a poor country, with the most land and the most sand—it was the definition of poverty.

A country like that couldn’t hold out forever. The growing internal pressure naturally gave way to a militant outlook.

To most citizens, they had nothing to lose but their lives.

And history had proven it: the poorer and more desperate a place was, the more violent it became.

Just like the Viking and Germanic barbarians that once ravaged Europe, or the nomads of the north who plagued ancient China, or the war-torn Middle East and Africa—it was always the same story.

The Land of Wind was now just like that. Crushed by poverty, crushed by desperation. The people were ready to explode.

And as the military heart of the nation, the Hidden Sand Village was the pressure valve. The whole place was a powder keg, barely held together by the Third Kazekage’s authority.

“If we’re going to die anyway, we might as well go out fighting. If we win, we gain everything. If we lose, we just lose our lives.”

That’s what one jōnin shouted after a meeting. It was an emotional outburst, but it spoke for the people—and gave the Kazekage a huge headache.

As one of the few who could remain rational—and had to remain rational—the Third Kazekage knew: If the Sand started the war, they’d lose. Badly. They’d be the first ones in and the first ones out.

And that was unacceptable.

He wasn’t against war per se. He knew war might be their only way out.

But why start a war they’d surely lose? Even if the Third Great Ninja War had to happen, the Sand couldn’t be the first to move.

So he resisted the pressure. And thanks to his prestige, he could keep the village under control.

In the original timeline, this restraint wasn’t appreciated. Sasori assassinated the Third Kazekage out of frustration. After that, the Hidden Sand lost its anchor and lashed out under the pretense of searching for their leader. They attacked their own ally, the Leaf, catching them off guard and nearly destroying them.

And just as the Kazekage predicted, they were the first to fall—and then got savagely raided by the brutes from the Hidden Cloud. They barely held onto their homeland.

Though they survived, they were forced to send their hero, pakura, to her death just to broker a peace deal.

In the entire war, the Sand was the classic case of “the bird that sticks its head out gets shot.”

But that was the original timeline.

Now, Sasori had already defected. And while other villages schemed to loot the Leaf, the Third Kazekage had no time for that.

He was too busy dispatching his shinobi to grab the mission slots the Leaf had abandoned!

For the mission-starved Hidden Sand, the Leaf’s retreat was a windfall.

Like an industrial transfer, the Sand—still the Leaf’s closest ally—benefited the most.

Add to that the Leaf’s arcade chain and genjutsu-based games, of which the Sand was the first international partner… well, now the Sand had a new problem—too much work.

Suddenly flush with missions and jobs, the once-idle village was now understaffed.

Every shinobi from genin to jōnin was juggling multiple assignments. Some were effectively working the jobs of three people.

The mission list was packed. They were making more money than ever. Too busy to think about anything else.

In that kind of atmosphere, who had time for war?

Everyone just wanted to work and get paid.

So as for starting the war? Forget it. The Sand’s response was clear: If you mess with our money, we’ll mess you up.

Now the Kazekage’s biggest headache was the shortage of manpower. He was seriously considering increasing ninja school enrollment and graduation numbers.

But how long could this mission boom last? What if one day the Leaf went back to its old ways?

If the Sand expanded and then lost those missions, it would explode—literally.

Especially with an inflated shinobi count, the backlash would be impossible to contain.

The Third Kazekage couldn’t stop that kind of implosion. It would force the Sand into war.

So he was deeply conflicted.

While the other villages, working with outdated intel, believed the Sand would soon start the war, the truth was the Sand was drifting further from war every day.

At this rate, the Third Great Ninja War seemed indefinitely delayed—and the Leaf could continue growing.

And so it was, as Uchiha Kei neared the end of his first fighting game’s development, he brought in a few kids to test it.

Those kids? Uchiha Obito, Kakashi, Might Guy, and the newly enrolled prodigy who had already left all his peers in the dust—Uchiha Shisui!

Yes, Uchiha Kei had his eye on Shisui from the start.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep