Land of Tea.
A steady drizzle was falling.
A graveyard sat halfway up a mountainside.
A sparse crowd of people dressed in black stood about.
The atmosphere was heavy and solemn.
Wu Ying felt groggy.
In the darkness, his consciousness gradually awakened.
"Please accept my condolences!"
A thick male voice broke the atmosphere, and at the same time, it made Wu Ying's wandering consciousness feel that something was amiss.
Accept my condolences? It felt like he had just been sleeping soundly; who had dragged him to a funeral?
Just as Wu Ying struggled to open his eyes, the baritone by his ear spoke again:
"Steward Uesugi, should we wake the young master?"
Hmm?
Wu Ying felt his eyelids were exceptionally heavy, and with a momentary lapse in focus, his partially cracked eyes closed shut once more.
"Lord Wasabi, let the young master rest. After all, the passing of the father who cherished him has kept the young master awake for three days."
This hoarse voice, sounding like frosted glass and leaking a bit of air, came from behind Wu Ying, sending a chill down his spine.
"Young master, did I disturb you?"
The person behind him seemed somewhat sensitive to such slight movements.
Young master?
Had he somehow been kidnapped to attend some tacky gathering? The swelling deep inside his skull and behind his eyes, along with his parched lips, were indeed the symptoms of staying up late or partying hard.
Yet what on earth was this "please accept my condolences"? Had he blacked out from drinking?
Wu Ying frowned in disgust; he disliked this discomfort.
"Young master, are you awake?"
Another gentle voice approached.
Although Wu Ying remained still, the gazes of those around him seemed to converge upon him.
What is the meaning of this? Can't a guy get some sleep?
Wu Ying half-opened his eyes with effort, adjusted to the light, and turned to look.
The man behind him had long black hair, exposed arms, and a few scars on his face...
Standing before him was an elderly man with short grey-white hair, bearing a sorrowful expression and the air of someone in a position of authority; another elderly man was slightly hunched over, clearly the steward.
The complaints he had just prepared were instantly cast to the back of his mind.
What kind of situation was this?
His thoughts were somewhat chaotic.
His gaze involuntarily drifted to the ground.
A flash of blue light flickered and vanished.
It looked both familiar and unfamiliar...
He must have opened his eyes the wrong way.
Wu Ying repeated the process of closing and opening his eyes...
"Young master, are you alright?"
"It's nothing, just a bit tired, and my head is foggy."
Wu Ying lowered his voice. Following the recent shock, he discovered that his throat was similarly hoarse from exhaustion.
That Lord Wasabi paused for a moment, bowed slightly, and departed.
Wu Ying scanned his surroundings through half-closed eyes.
A large black-and-white photograph was placed at the gravestone ahead, piled high with white roses.
People came up to him in twos and threes, said "Please accept my condolences," and then turned and left.
Once the crowd had dispersed...
Wu Ying slowly touched the black-and-white photograph...
After a long while.
Having kowtowed once, he stood up and stretched his stiff joints.
Seeing the young master act thus, the steward made to ask something.
"Don't follow me, Steward Uesugi. Go back first and tidy up the courtyard."
Wu Ying waved his hand dismissively without looking back and instructed the steward.
The early spring rain was still somewhat chilly, which also helped Wu Ying calm down considerably.
He strolled leisurely to the top of the mountain, found a large boulder to sit on, and tried in vain to recall how he had come to this world.
Could this be the awakening of memories from past lives?
Regardless of whether this was a dream or reality.
The parents of this lifetime were gone...
He wondered how those senior transmigrators managed to adapt to everything so quickly.
Even after living in this world for twenty-five years, he still felt completely out of place.
He always felt like a wandering spirit, and a sense of late-life melancholy suddenly welled up within him.
Looking at the shimmering blue light before his eyes, he steadied his emotions and checked his attribute panel.
[Character: Wu Ying]
[Physique: 1.2]
[Spirit: 15]
[Cultivation Formula: None]
[Skills: Culinary Arts (Proficient): 166/200, Music Mastery (Advanced): 199/500, Painting Mastery (Advanced): 350/500, Basic Swordsmanship (Uninitiated): 0/200]
That's all for skills? Can't it just go "ding" and max them out for me directly?
He grumbled about the panel's lack of intelligence, though a system that was too smart would actually be terrifying.
These data figures indicated that feedback would likely be generated with every single use or practice.
It seemed he would have to grind desperately for these numbers to grow rapidly.
He raised his eyes and surveyed the panel all around.
Wu Ying actually spotted a mall, and when he eagerly opened it, he nearly cursed out loud.
This thing was an absolute scam!
At a single glance, whether it was support-type or attack-type goods, the prices were uniformly 9999.
Wu Ying felt a sharp pang in his heart; he only possessed Basic Swordsmanship, and it was still at the uninitiated stage.
He had originally hoped to find some powerful offensive or auxiliary items in the mall to boost his strength.
Instead, reality dealt him a harsh slap in the face.
Gazing at the meager 500 mall coins provided as a gift, he clenched his teeth and cursed continuously in his mind.
As for the 1000:1 exchange rate for real-world currency, he had no time to worry about that right now.
He needed to slow down, calm himself, and properly sort out current and future matters.
He rubbed his index finger against his chin in deep thought...
Still, his current status was not bad at all.
Wu Ying could now be considered someone of modest wealth.
Not only did he own his own shop and trade caravan,
but he also possessed a family estate covering less than a hundred acres, comprising around a hundred buildings in total.
Beyond that, the household included several servants and a security guard unit.
All these resources needed to be put to good use!
As of now, he could be considered a man with money and a house, yet he always felt something was missing.
Hmm... was it a younger sister?
Oh right, it seemed there really was a little girl who always called him "young master," only she was nowhere to be seen today.
Why not simply adopt her as his younger sister!
Wu Ying shook his head, struggling to banish these chaotic thoughts.
As the saying goes, "literature demands poverty, martial arts require wealth"...
It was currently the spring of Konoha Year 56, and some time remained before the plot began.
What a pity, he probably wouldn't make it in time for Lady Tsunade's birthday this year.
When all was said and farlo, it was his own fault for lacking sufficient strength right now!
To approach Tsunade, it seemed he would have to make use of Nawaki and Dan's deaths; blame him not.
He hoped Lady Tsunade wouldn't act rashly when the time came.
Fortunately, Tsunade was still wandering outside; once he grinded out his skills, he could go make contact with her first.
If his wife Tsunade could take in little Hinata-chan and Tenten as disciples, that would seemingly be even better than that Sakura.
Little Hinata-chan at least had the potential for ancestral bloodline reversion and was someone capable of awakening the Tenseigan.
Tenten's spatial-temporal talent was also top-tier.
However, getting his hands on the Scroll of Seals as an outsider from another village in Konoha was utterly impossible; he still had to make a breakthrough through Tsunade.
Sigh, that fine Scroll of Seals could have cultivated quite a few ninjas with decent talent, yet it was hoarded by the Third Hokage, who valued his precious possessions too much to share.
Hah, what the hell, why worry about things that are none of my business!
When all is said and done, this is a man-eat-man world.
Economic independence and personal strength are what give one the right to speak...
Originally, once war broke out in this world, the further things went, the younger the cannon fodder sent onto the battlefield, while the clans of the Konoha F4, including Sarutobi, grew increasingly deep-rooted.
One had to admire the Third Hokage's brainwashing skills.
Those four old immortals, disciples of the Second Hokage, actually controlled Konoha's economy and logistical supplies while suppressing the rise of geniuses...
For decades! Decades!!!
And he also had to be careful of Jiraiya, that guy who got scammed by a toad.
Tsk tsk...
As the hero's son, Naruto was actually still going hungry during such a peaceful era...
How pathetic.
There weren't many years of peace left! Not many...
He would head back first, find that scarred man—cough, Jiro Yamada was his name, right?—and see what he had mastered.
Pulling his chaotic thoughts back all at once, he walked toward the annex.
Upon returning to the courtyard, the steward and the others had almost finished tidying up, so he directly summoned Jiro Yamada to the backyard.
"Instructor Yamada, I wonder if you practice ninjutsu or swordsmanship? Would it be convenient for you to teach me?"
Instructor Yamada looked with furrowed brows at the young master before him, a trace of surprise and confusion revealing itself in his gaze.
He remembered that in the past, this young master of theirs had also studied under him.
Yet he had given it up directly because it was too tiring.
He remained silent, seemingly pondering something.
After quite a while, he slowly opened his mouth and said:
"What this subordinate practices is swordsmanship. As for the method of chakra refinement, those ninja lords keep that extremely strictly controlled; they will never easily impart it to outsiders."
Yet at this very moment, hearing this speech once again, Wu Ying still felt extremely awkward inside.
That unique voice seemed to possess some sort of magical property, making him feel ill at ease all over, practically a form of torture.
The sensation was akin to countless ants crawling back and forth over his body, driving him crazy.
Wu Ying couldn't help muttering to himself:
"It seems this Instructor Yamada is also a man with a story; his throat must have been injured, but this voice is still awfully hard to listen to!"
Having muttered this internally, he asked again:
"Like the samurai of the Land of Iron?"
Instructor Yamada nodded.
"Can you teach it to me?"
The other man nodded again, and Wu Ying, growing interested, had Jiro Yamada fetch a wooden sword to instruct him.