UK:GSW Chapter 153: Orochimaru — I'm Grateful Someone Like Kei-kun Exists, or I'd Want to Destroy the Shinobi World 

Yes, while it hasn't been explicitly mentioned before, Uchiha Kei never intended to give up on the "harmonious" game market. After all, it's massive, and the emotional value it generates is enormous—it touches on the most primal psychological and physical needs of human beings.

Take the Third Hokage or Jiraiya, for example. If a game like that were released, those two would probably explode with gold coins, far more than any combat or adventure game.

After all, you might not trust a man's character, but you can always trust his second brain.

Even back on Earth, this kind of market was absurdly huge. In most countries, such games were legal—only in Huaxia, as a harmonious society, were they banned.

Of course, that ban was only in name. Kei could never forget the massively popular otome mobile game he saw before transmigrating—featuring explicit content and scenes, yet fully legal and compliant.

On a certain Steam-like platform, even domestic developers sold "harmonious" games, pushing the limits of legality.

Why? Because there was rigid demand—on both the male and female sides of the market. The only question was how to make them in a legal and proper way.

In the underdeveloped, barely regulated shinobi world, "harmonious" games were a wide-open red ocean market. From daimyō to commoners, everyone had a bottomless appetite for such things. After all, the world was already filled with legal and public red-light districts.

So what's the issue with Uchiha Kei wanting to jump in and make some money and gather emotional value?

Absolutely none.

Moreover, in the realm of genjutsu-based games, Kei wasn't just the developer—he was the businessman, the judge, the regulator. As long as he established rules to avoid oversaturation, it was no different than saying: "I'd like to join you in making a fortune." In fact, it could even serve to disrupt the traditional red-light industry and contribute to a more "harmonious" society.

Such genjutsu games would be a dimensional blow to traditional methods, forcing a dramatic market shrink. Those who made a living by coercing the innocent would suffer a huge blow.

That's why Kei truly believed he was making a contribution to the harmony of the shinobi world—no exaggeration.

Of course, this would only solve part of the problem. The shinobi world was a filthy pit that needed a world-shaking reform, or it would stay a pit forever.

But that wasn't Kei's responsibility. That was up to his good friend, Namikaze Minato. And that guy might actually do it. The Little Sun had been deeply influenced by Kei's "radical" ideology and was starting to grow dissatisfied with the conservative and nostalgic Third Hokage.

To others, that dissatisfaction might seem rebellious. But to Kei, it was progress—Minato breaking free from the chains of tradition and authority.

Still, true reform would have to wait until Tsunade officially rose to power and Orochimaru was ready.

Until then, Uchiha Kei would keep promoting his genjutsu games at his own pace.

As for Jiraiya... Kei didn't even know how to describe him.

In the original story, Jiraiya's tale had moved him deeply. He admired him. But viewed from the lens of real-world logic and Kei's own experiences, Jiraiya was actually kind of a burden as a teammate.

He was always missing when you needed him most. Supposedly great at intelligence gathering, but in practice? He always seemed to know everything... and nothing. Emotionally, he was locked in a tragic push-pull with Tsunade, only to die with regrets.

He could've been Hokage. He had the strength to change the things he hated. But instead, he roamed the world chasing some vague prophecy about the Child of Prophecy from the Great Toad Sage.

Both Nagato and Minato were once considered the prophesied one. Yet Jiraiya kept traveling, chasing ghosts. In the end, both were lost—one manipulated into becoming Pain, the other sacrificing himself to seal the Nine-Tails.

Honestly, Kei couldn't understand Jiraiya's mindset.

Maybe it was hindsight bias. Kei knew Uzumaki Naruto was the real Child of Prophecy. So all he wanted to do was shout:

"If the Great Toad Sage said you'd take the Child of Prophecy as your student, then why didn't you just stay in Konoha? Even if the kid was from another village, fate would've brought him to you! And if that didn't happen, doesn't that mean the prophecy was flawed?"

So much ranting... all because Kei genuinely didn't know where Jiraiya fit into his future plans. Aside from raw power, Jiraiya didn't seem irreplaceable.

Then Kei suddenly remembered a certain unwritten classic—*Icha Icha Paradise*. It hadn't even been written yet.

Genius struck.

This old perv's greatest use?

If he could write "harmonious" novels, surely he could help make "harmonious" games!

For anyone else, such work might be insulting. Even if not insulting, most people wouldn't be able to shamelessly commit to it.

But Jiraiya? Give him the opportunity and the tools, and he'd jump at it. Eager as could be.

You could doubt his intel skills—but never doubt Jiraiya's grand vision and passion for the "harmonious" cause.

All Kei had to do was paint a dream so tempting Jiraiya couldn't resist. Once he saw the glorious ideal, he'd dive headfirst into making these genjutsu games.

That's right—Kei was preparing to unlock a limited version of the game-making function for Jiraiya.

It would be restricted. He'd be assigned a small pocket dimension, just like Sasori had, where he could create freely.

Once the game was done, Kei would set up a separate distribution channel. Jiraiya's games would never be sold under Kei's brand.

After all, as the greatest game developer in the shinobi world, he had to maintain a pristine image. No taint from the "harmonious" crowd. He would remain noble and untouchable—even if it was obvious he was the mastermind behind the scenes. As long as he denied it to the death, he remained pure.

In short—don't underestimate the thick skin of a transmigrator who's spent nineteen years growing in the shadows!

Of course, Kei wasn't scamming Jiraiya. On the contrary, once all the glory of being the founder of "harmonious" games was bestowed on him, Jiraiya would be overjoyed—proud, even. He'd have his own legacy, something worthy of a whole new page in the family records.

Now all Kei had to do was wait for Jiraiya's return.

As the four kids battled in a game simulation, Kei split his mind—part focused on watching them, the rest on how to pitch this grand dream to Jiraiya.

Meanwhile, at the Hidden Leaf Village's gate, five Chūnin and eight Genin were hard at work—checking papers, asking questions, issuing temporary passes. The crowd was huge, unlike anything before.

Lines of people extended far beyond the main road into Konoha. Outside the village, temporary settlements and waystations had sprung up to house workers and merchants.

Jiraiya, returning to the village with Orochimaru, gawked at the scene.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You've got to be kidding me. Is this really Konoha? Not the capital of the Land of Fire?"

Having already seen it all, Orochimaru calmly replied, "I told you, Jiraiya. You've been gone far too long. What you see here is only part of it. The southern part of Konoha has already been designated a new district. No residences yet, but several industrial buildings have been completed."

"As Kei-kun puts it, that area will be the shinobi world's first industrial zone."

Jiraiya blinked. "Industrial zone? Uh, you mean a bunch of workshops lumped together?"

Orochimaru paused, looked at his old friend with meaning. "You're not wrong. But there's far more to it than that."

And inside, he sighed.

He could feel it. The gap between them had become immense.

After studying in the Great Library, Orochimaru had grown in ways Jiraiya hadn't. Now, their understanding, mindset, and values were worlds apart.

And somewhere along the way, Orochimaru had developed a deep disgust for the shinobi world.

Its ignorance. Its backwardness. Its outdated identity. Its obsession with murder and destruction instead of knowledge and innovation.

This world made him sick.

Thank goodness for Kei-kun.

Thank goodness someone like Kei existed—someone willing to share knowledge and lead others forward.

Without Kei, with his newfound intellect and vision, Orochimaru might've wanted to destroy this rotten world.

That was Orochimaru's quiet reflection.