A hundred years later, with the aid of the system, Moyu once again set foot on a journey into the unknown. Passing through a black wormhole of nothingness, he felt reality twist. The world before his eyes shifted in an instant.
"Where am I…?" His voice was low, unsettled. Standing in unfamiliar land, Moyu's gaze swept the horizon in bewilderment. Everything was foreign. For a long time he could only mutter to himself, his mind restless and clouded.
Then—across the haze of doubt—a figure approached. A silhouette sharpened, step by step, until recognition struck.
Naruto.
Moyu's eyes narrowed, then widened, the tension in his chest loosening as he confirmed the identity. At the same time, Naruto had already noticed him. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment both men smiled, as if destiny had drawn them into this reunion.
Moyu stepped forward slowly. They were about to speak when another presence sliced into the air between them. Uchiha Sasuke.
The atmosphere changed at once. The two shinobi squared off, a quarrel sparking with the intensity of old scars.
"Now I have very strong evidence to believe you've been following me maliciously!" Naruto's voice thundered with fury, every word sharpened like a blade. "Stop now, or I'll take your silence as open hostility!"
The declaration rang out with conviction, yet it stirred no change. Sasuke's reply was cold, sharp, and cutting. "You've grown skilled at shouting nonsense. But no one here believes your accusations. Take back your words before you disgrace yourself further."
Each line pressed harder than the last, every sentence spoken to provoke, not to resolve.
Moyu blinked at the scene, lips parting slightly. Two men—both so powerful, yet so absurd in their stubbornness—looked almost childish in his eyes. "Do you two intend to continue this endlessly? At least pause long enough to breathe," he said, voice carrying patient kindness.
But the words slipped past unheard.
The quarrel only burned hotter. Naruto suddenly flared with chakra, his fury crystallizing into action. With a shout, thousands of Shadow Clones burst into existence, their fists flying in unison. The sheer mass of assault shook the ground, an overwhelming tide of strikes rushing Sasuke.
For a moment even Moyu felt the air quake beneath the force. Sasuke himself was driven back, retreating in rapid steps, his figure flickering as he was forced away more than ten paces. His expression tightened—momentary embarrassment cutting through his composure.
Yet Sasuke was never one to remain cornered. His eyes narrowed. His body shifted. In a blur he launched into a technique he had refined—a swift body art, sharp as a blade and merciless in its angle. His form split like a shadow dance, striking upward with precision to break Naruto's momentum, then vanishing into the air to reappear behind him, chaining attacks in ruthless succession.
From words to steel, from quarrel to combat—the two clashed without hesitation. Their power collided like storm and fire, shaking the field.
Moyu exhaled, pressing a hand to his temple as he watched. Their stubbornness had blossomed into chaos before his eyes. "I said… is it truly impossible for you two to stop, even for a moment?" His words carried both exasperation and helpless amusement.
But neither shinobi answered.
The battle had already drowned them both.
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