Sasuke didn't quite understand what his brother meant. By the time he thought of another question, Itachi had already vanished without a trace.

Time flowed like a river, the years passing in the blink of an eye. Two and a half years had come and gone. The Uchiha clan's territory, once a rustic and undeveloped patch of land, had transformed into a bustling, prosperous village. On the great stone tablet at the village entrance, three large characters were now clearly engraved:

Madara-gakure.

Though the village was small in both area and population, it lacked for nothing. Snack shops, inns, and various other stores lined its streets. Travelers passing through would often stop for a day or two, resting and experiencing the unique customs and culture of the new village.

Of course, the economy of Madara-gakure did not rely solely on passing travelers. These amenities were built primarily to meet the needs of the villagers themselves. The village's main source of income, like that of the great shinobi villages, was mission commissions.

At first, due to its lack of reputation, the nearby small countries and feudal lords were skeptical of the new village. But over time, as the number of collaborations grew, the clients were consistently impressed by the strength and efficiency of the Madara-gakure shinobi. The volume of missions at all levels increased exponentially. They even began to receive S-rank missions, tasks that were typically reserved for the shinobi of the five great nations.

In the past, employers had always assigned their most difficult S-rank missions to the five great villages. But now, things were different. Clients who worked with Madara-gakure found that the completion rate for these high-level tasks was even higher than that of the major villages. And, what was even more commendable, their commission fees were lower. Though it was not a significant discount, the cost-effectiveness was a clear advantage. It was a simple truth of business that clients preferred partners who offered better value.

As the number of successful missions grew, Madara-gakure became more and more prosperous. The start-up capital provided by the Akatsuki had, of course, also played an important role. Uchiha Madara was deeply satisfied with the results. The Uchiha clan, flourishing in a village of their own making, was a dream he had held since he was a child. He, too, had grown tired of the endless cycle of fighting and killing. A clan without worry, a world at peace—who would not desire such a thing?

This was the very reason he had once longed for the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but now, that dream had become a reality. This was the future his younger brother, Izuna, had entrusted to him before he died. It was a pity Izuna could not be here to see it with his own eyes.

Fortunately, the arrival of Shiro had brought a ray of light into the darkness of Madara's heart. He no longer believed in the grim truth of the world he had once known—that where there is victory, there must also be defeat; that the winner takes all, and the loser loses everything, including those they love. He had once believed that the false world of the genjutsu was the only truth, a world where everyone could be a winner, living forever in a reality of their own making.

But now, Madara no longer thought that way. He just wanted to spend his time with his son, here in reality. To strengthen the Uchiha clan. So that when he one day died and saw his brother again in the Pure Land, he would have something to show for the life he had lived.

There were times, in the dead of night, when the longing for his brother became so great that Madara had considered using the Impure World Reincarnation to summon him back, just to talk with him once more. But he could not bring himself to use Tobirama's despicable jutsu. It felt… dirty. And he did not want to disturb his brother's peaceful rest for his own selfish reasons.

"Sigh…"

Looking at the empty chair beside him, Uchiha Madara sighed. "I wonder where Shiro has gone." Whenever his son was not around, Madara would find himself lost in thought, dwelling on the past and its many regrets. It was, perhaps, the curse of all old men who find themselves alone.

At that moment, Uchiha Fugaku's voice broke the silence. "Lord Madara."

"Ah, it's you, Fugaku," Madara said, raising his eyes slightly. "I have not seen you in some time. I was just thinking that you have made a great contribution to the development of Madara-gakure. Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Thank you for your praise, Lord Dōkage. But this is also thanks to Shiro-dono. Without him, I could not have achieved any of this on my own."

"Haha, that is true." At the mention of Shiro, Madara's chest swelled with a pride he made no effort to conceal.

"My son is unrivaled! No one can compare to him!"