Chapter:201

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After a long pause, Senju Hashirama, who had been using chakra to sense the battlefield of Congyun Mountain, finally spoke, his tone heavy with emotion. "Currently... there are about 4,000 survivors, with the Senju Alliance being the majority. However, in terms of a single ninja clan, Uchiha holds the most survivors—about 1,400."

1,400 survivors. This meant that the Senju Alliance still had about 2,500 remaining. The gap had significantly closed compared to the initial disparity of 5,000 to 2,000. By all accounts, this was a resounding victory for Uchiha.

Izuna's face remained calm, though the weight of the war hung in the air. The outcome had been decided, but at an immense cost. More than 3,000 lives had been lost—a devastating number that made this battle one of the most brutal in Warring States history.

"So many lives..." Hashirama's voice faltered, his clenched fists trembling. "This era... it's broken."

Izuna remained silent, his gaze fixed on the blood-soaked battlefield. Though his power was undeniable, he didn't revel in the bloodshed. Years of endless war had left him weary, yearning for the stability he'd never known.

"It's time to go back," Izuna said finally, brushing the dust off his armor.

"Agreed," Hashirama replied, slowly rising from the ground. Despite his injuries, he pushed himself up with sheer willpower.

Izuna glanced sideways, slightly impressed. This guy… how can he still stand with all those broken bones? Truly a monster.

As they stood amidst the wreckage, Izuna posed a question: "This war will give us a few years of peace, maybe three at most. What do you plan to do during that time, Hashirama?"

Hashirama frowned. A temporary truce was inevitable, but it didn't mean an end to the conflict. Over the next few years, both sides would rebuild their forces, targeting smaller clans to gather resources and prepare for the next large-scale battle.

The cycle would continue: war, brief peace, and then war again. Generations would grow up knowing nothing but hatred and bloodshed.

"I don't know," Hashirama admitted, his voice heavy with defeat. He had always dreamed of peace, but the path forward seemed shrouded in uncertainty.

Izuna crossed his arms, a rare smirk playing on his lips. "I have an idea—want to hear it?"

Hashirama's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I'm listening."

Ten minutes later, Hashirama stood deep in thought, his hand on his chin. "Your method… it might actually work," he murmured. Then, his gaze turned to Izuna, a mix of admiration and disbelief. "You're truly a master of strategy, Izuna. Though I can't tell if I should be impressed or horrified."

Izuna shrugged. "Whether you call it strategy or scheming, I'll take it as a compliment."

Before Hashirama could respond, Izuna disappeared in a flash of chakra. The remnants of his presence were carried away by the gentle drizzle that had begun to fall.

Hashirama sighed, muttering to himself, "He still had enough chakra to use the Flying Thunder God? I suppose I've lost this battle."

The battlefield was soaked in rain, washing away the blood but leaving behind the heavy stench of death. Corpses littered the ground, creating a grim reminder of the costs of war. Streams of crimson ran through the dirt, pooling into small, haunting rivers.

The survivors on both sides, Uchiha and Senju, stood at a tense stalemate. They eyed each other warily, their weapons gripped tightly, though neither side made a move. Everyone was exhausted, their strength nearly spent.

Uchiha Madara, panting heavily, stood amidst the chaos. His armor was scorched, his chakra reserves dangerously low. Despite his condition, his pride remained intact.

"You're lucky, old man," Madara sneered, glaring at Uzumaki Guanghai, who stood not far away. "If you weren't Mito's grandfather, I would've finished you off long ago."

The elder Uzumaki chuckled hoarsely, half his beard singed off. "You're welcome to try, young one," he rasped, though his body swayed from exhaustion. "If you have the strength left."

Madara growled, forcing himself to stand straight. He was determined to end the battle, no matter how little chakra he had left. But as he stepped forward, his foot caught on a corpse, nearly sending him tumbling.

A hand reached out, steadying him before he could fall.

Madara turned in surprise, only to see Izuna, who had reappeared at his side.

"Why are you here?" Madara asked, his voice tinged with relief and confusion.

"I left the Flying Thunder God's mark on your armor, of course," Izuna replied nonchalantly. Then, his tone turned firm. "But let's end this. The war is over."

Madara's eyes widened in disbelief. "End it? Now? They're on the verge of collapse—this is our chance to destroy them!"

Izuna shook his head. "Enough, Madara. We've made our point. Uchiha has proven its strength. Any further bloodshed is unnecessary."

Before the Senju Alliance could respond to Izuna's declaration, a familiar voice called out from the distance.

"Hey! Everyone!" The booming voice of Senju Hashirama cut through the tension.

His arrival sent waves of relief through the Senju Alliance. Their despair turned to hope as they watched their leader approach, battered but alive.

"Hashirama!" the Senju forces shouted, rushing toward him. At the same time, the Uchiha forces gathered around Madara and Izuna, their weapons raised defensively.

"Enough," Hashirama commanded, his voice filled with authority. "This war has gone on long enough. Take the bodies of our fallen and return to camp. Begin cleaning the battlefield."

"But, Lord Hashirama!" one Senju ninja protested. "We can still fight!"

"No!" Hashirama's voice was firm, silencing any further objections. "There has been enough bloodshed. I will personally deal with anyone who disobeys."

On the other side, Madara glanced at Izuna, awaiting his response. Izuna nodded, signaling his agreement.

"Uchiha forces, the same applies to you," Madara declared. "Anyone who continues to fight will be considered a traitor. Start cleaning the battlefield."

End of the Chapter

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