Slayer: Look directly at the Seraph, standing on the sun

Chapter 876 The Long Corridor

Zhang Hai followed Bai Jue into the long corridor that seemed to lead to hell.

The corridor was long, with dim candlelight on both sides, casting long shadows on the walls like a group of menacing demons. The air here was dry and stifling, and with each step, the oppressive feeling from the depths of one's soul intensified.

Finally, the passage came to an end.

It was a huge underground cavern. In the center of the space stood a huge and strange stone seat, upon which were connected several thick pipes.

At the end of the pipe sat an old man.

His long, white hair hung down to his waist, and the wrinkles on his face, like the cracked bark of an old tree, deeply etched the marks of time. His eyes were closed, and his body was as thin as a rake, as if a gust of wind could blow him over. The large, dark robe hung loosely on his body.

This is... Uchiha Madara?

A strong sense of unease welled up in Zhang Hai's heart.

The old man before him had physiological functions that were shockingly low. In Zhang Hai's keen perception, the life force within the man was as weak as a candle flickering in the wind, barely clinging to life by an extremely cold and massive amount of chakra supplied through the tubes behind him.

too weak.

It was an instinctive intuition. At this moment, like an arrow drawn taut on a bowstring, Zhang Hai had an absurd yet real illusion: if he drew his sword now, the legendary ninja myth would end in this dark basement. One strike, just one strike.

However, just as Zhang Hai's fingers tightened on the hilt of the knife, and his killing intent reached its peak...

The old man slowly opened his eyes.

In that instant, the airflow in the entire underground space seemed to freeze.

It wasn't a pair of mystical eyes with a kaleidoscope pattern; it was just a pair of murky three-tomoe Sharingan, one of which was even a spare for transplantation.

But when that gaze fell upon him, Zhang Hai felt as if he were being stared at by a colossal beast from the primordial era. There was no murderous intent in that gaze, only an arrogant disregard for all living beings, an absolute confidence that transcended everything.

"Since you're here, don't just stand there."

An aged voice echoed in the empty cave, deep and hoarse, yet carrying an unquestionable imperial majesty.

"Junior."

Those two simple words struck Zhang Hai's long-held defenses like a heavy hammer.

The sharp, surging momentum, seemingly capable of severing everything, faltered slightly before those two words. The illusion of "one strike is enough to kill" instantly crumbled, replaced by an unfathomable fear.

That wasn't a suppression of power, but a crushing defeat of one's realm.

Ban slightly raised his head. Although he couldn't move his body, he sat there as if he were sitting on the throne of the world. He looked at Zhang Hai, a faint smile curving his lips. It was a smile of disdain for the challenger and a hint of amusement at his fellow clansman.

"Take off the mask."

This is a command, not a request.

Zhang Hai's fingers stiffened for a moment. He felt an invisible aura envelop him, the domineering aura unique to Uchiha Madara. Even though this body was decaying, even though his chakra was exhausted, that will called "Shura" was still enough to make all the ninjas in the world bow their heads before him.

The initiative changed hands in an instant.

Zhang Hai took a deep breath, forcibly calming his mind. He knew that the battle had begun, but it was not a mere clash of swords; rather, it was a far more dangerous struggle of will and soul.

He slowly raised his hand and reached for the mask on his face.

"as you wish."

As the mask was removed, a young and cold face appeared before Madara, his scarlet Mangekyou Sharingan slowly turning, meeting the gaze of the old man on the throne.

The Uchiha clans from two different eras finally clashed head-on in this dark underground place.

As the porcelain-like mask was slowly removed, Zhang Hai's young yet coldly defined face was revealed. His eyes remained in the three-tomoe form, and his scarlet pupils looked particularly eerie in the dim underground space. He stared directly at the frail old man on the throne, who seemed as if he would breathe his last at any moment. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his hoarse voice broke the silence.

"You... are Uchiha Madara?"

The moment the question left his mouth, Zhang Hai regretted it.

"Huh, boring."

A hint of undisguised disappointment flashed in Ban's cloudy eyes. He didn't even adjust his posture, but simply swept Zhang Hai's face with a look as if he were looking at rotten wood.

“Your eyes tell me you’re certain of my identity; your muscles are tense, a primal reaction to facing a predator. You already know the answer in your heart, yet you still offer meaningless confirmation.” Ban’s voice was deep, carrying an arrogance from the depths of his soul. “This is weakness, this is fear. You crave a negative answer from me, so your trembling soul can have a moment’s respite, don’t you?”

With just two sentences, Zhang Hai felt as if he had been stripped bare. His carefully constructed psychological defenses seemed transparent in front of this old man. The opening remarks he had tried to establish with words had instead become the other man's handle, instantly putting him at a complete disadvantage.

"It seems that the Uchiha clan's capacity for understanding is limited to this." Madara lowered his eyelids slightly, as if looking at Zhang Hai was a waste of energy. "Not only are they weak-willed, but their actions are also petty and narrow-minded."

Zhang Hai gritted his teeth, his fingers gripping the knife hilt turning white from the force: "What do you mean?"

"Do I need to spell it out, junior?" Madara's lips curled into a mocking smile. "You hid like a turtle in that rat-dung-smelling cave for three whole days, adjusting yourself to your so-called 'perfect' state. If that's considered caution, then what about those two little bugs you brought?"

Zhang Hai's pupils suddenly contracted.

"A Sand Village brat who plays with wooden puppets, and an immortal monster who reeks of money and only knows how to count it," Madara said casually, as if he were talking about two ants that had wandered into his courtyard. "You left them in the rubble 500 meters away because you thought those two pieces of trash would save your life if things fell apart with me? Or did you think that having them would give you the confidence to challenge me?"

"Only those who lack self-confidence seek to accumulate quantity. A true strong person needs only one person."

Cold sweat trickled down Zhang Hai's temples. He had thought his arrangements were flawless, even shielding him from the perception of the Spirit Transformation Technique, but he never expected that in Ban's eyes, it was nothing more than a clumsy stage play.