Leaving the Clan Head's residence, Kei walked along the wide streets of the Uchiha Clan Compound.

The afternoon sun filtered through the gaps between the tall buildings on both sides of the street, casting mottled shadows on the bluestone road, light and dark intertwining, much like his current situation.

The surrounding atmosphere was already completely different from when he arrived. Those prying and scrutinizing gazes still existed, but the contempt and disdain mixed within them had vanished, replaced by a thicker sense of awe, curiosity, and a hint of undisguised jealousy.

Discussions were incessant; this time, they no longer deliberately lowered their voices.

"He came out of the Naka Shrine, and the Clan Head didn't punish him!"

"It seems it's true. Our Uchiha has another Mangekyō Sharingan possessor."

"Unbelievable, a war orphan..."

"Shut up! It's Lord Kei now!"

Kei turned a deaf ear to all of this, his mind highly focused, taking in all the reactions of the clansmen around him.

On the system panel, the value representing 【Clan Cohesion】 jumped slightly from "35/100" to "35.2/100" the moment he stepped out of the Naka Shrine.

This insignificant increase made him even more clear-headed.

Establishing prestige was definitely not something that could be achieved overnight.

He viewed these complex reactions as the most authentic "samples of human nature" that had to be faced before the reform.

The Uchiha clan was proud and admired the strong.

As long as you could demonstrate enough power, you could earn their respect, even if that respect was only superficial.

His steps were steady and unhurried as he passed through the neatly planned elite residential areas.

Every mansion here had an exquisite courtyard and spacious rooms, manifesting the owner's status.

Finally, his footsteps paused slightly in front of a row of low, dilapidated collective dormitories.

This was his "home."

The collective dormitory area for war orphans was located at the very edge of the clan grounds, seemingly worlds apart from the elite area.

The air was perpetually filled with a damp, musty smell, the walls were covered in moss, and the stone steps beneath his feet were uneven due to years of neglect.

This dilapidated dormitory formed a sharp visual contrast with the exquisite karesansui courtyard of Fugaku's residence in the distance, silently telling of the long-entrenched hierarchy within this clan.

A fragment of a memory that didn't belong to him, yet was incredibly clear, surged into his mind like a tide.

It was a rainy night; cold rainwater dripped through a hole in the roof, hitting his face.

The original owner's old injuries from the Battle of Kannabi Bridge had flared up; his body trembled uncontrollably on the cold wooden bed, sweat and tears mixing together as his vision began to blur.

He reached out his hand, wanting to ask the companion in the next bed for help, but only saw a cold back that had turned over irritably after being woken up.

That feeling of helplessness and coldness from being abandoned by the whole world swept over him once again.

Kei slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was no sadness, but instead a sharper light burning within.

I have received the pain of the original owner.

He transformed this pain into fuel for reform.

A clear vow was quietly made in his heart: I am no longer that orphan trembling helplessly in the rainy night, begging for mercy.

I want to become the person who can hold up a roof for all those forgotten "thems," shielding them from the wind and rain.

This pain will be my first lever to move this decaying world.

He didn't enter the dormitory but turned and continued along the street.

Turning a corner, the sound of childish arguments and laughter from children came from ahead.

A familiar mansion appeared before his eyes—it was Uchiha Itachi's home.

On the steps at the entrance, a black-haired boy who looked only six or seven years old was pulling the corner of the clothes of a youth wearing an Anbu uniform, puffing out his cheeks and acting spoiled with a displeased face.

"Nii-san! You're lying again! You promised to practice Shuriken with me today! Are you going on another mission?"

That youth in the Anbu uniform was none other than Uchiha Itachi, who was only thirteen years old but already an Anbu squad leader.

A trace of helplessness and deep guilt flashed across his face, and he habitually extended two fingers, preparing to poke his younger brother's forehead.

"Sorry, Sasuke, maybe next time."

Just then, Itachi sensed Kei's gaze, and the motion to poke the forehead froze for a moment in mid-air.

He turned his head sharply, and their gazes met in the air.

Itachi's eyes were instantly filled with extreme vigilance.

As a double agent wandering between the clan and the village, he maintained the highest alert against any "variable."

And Uchiha Kei, this suddenly rising Mangekyō Sharingan possessor with an unclear background, was undoubtedly the biggest variable recently.

Kei's reaction was very calm; he didn't even linger on Itachi for long.

His gaze moved past Itachi and landed on the young Sasuke, who was still puffing his cheeks and pulling his brother's clothes.

That innocent face still had baby fat, and those clear eyes hadn't yet been planted with the seeds of hatred.

His life hadn't yet been swallowed by that blood-colored night.

Looking at Sasuke, a hint of gentleness that even he hadn't noticed surfaced in the depths of Kei's eyes.

This was the starting point and core of all the tragedies.

An elder brother who wanted to protect everything but ended up bearing everything and destroying everything.

A younger brother who struggled his whole life between love and hate, only to learn the truth after killing the brother who loved him most with his own hands.

Itachi noticed the look Kei gave Sasuke, and the vigilance in his heart grew even heavier.

That was not a look a peer should have; the complex emotions contained in that gaze seemed to have insight into the future.

"Who exactly is this person?" Itachi's heart shuddered.

Kei withdrew his gaze and didn't stay, passing by Itachi.

"Nii-san, who is that person?" Sasuke looked up curiously, watching Kei's departing back. "His eyes are so strange."

Itachi didn't answer Sasuke's question; he completed that classic "forehead poke," but his eyes followed Kei's back until he disappeared at the end of the street.

That unease was infinitely magnified in Itachi's heart.

He realized that this clansman who had just awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan might have seen through the terminal illness hidden deep beneath the Uchiha's glory—known as "fate"—even earlier than the village higher-ups or even his father, Fugaku.

And he seemed to be preparing to personally cut open this abscess.

Kei ignored the sharp gaze behind him.

He knew in his heart that Uchiha Itachi, this genius who had been deeply brainwashed by the "Will of Fire" and pushed to a dead end by the conflict between the clan and the village, would be the most difficult but also the most crucial link in his plan.

To change his thinking, words were useless.

He had to use facts and actions to completely shatter that ridiculous logic of "sacrificing the few to save the many" in Itachi's heart.

Deep in thought, Kei decided not to wait passively for Fugaku's orders.

He would take the initiative and ignite the first spark of reform.