\[Ding\~ Congratulations to the host for a total of 5,000 units of the game sold, generating 100 million ryō in revenue. Based on local prices, this equals approximately 33.33 million RMB. Due to this sales explosion, the mission has been completed ahead of schedule.]
\[Ding\~ Congratulations to the host for receiving the highest-tier reward. The system has officially been activated. The shop and emotion point exchange system are now open.]
\[Ding\~ Congratulations to the host for obtaining: 1 Platinum Chest, 1 Gold Chest, and 1 Silver Chest.]
\[Ding\~ Congratulations, player, for perfectly passing the novice trial. The system is now officially open. Please continue working hard to become the world's greatest game developer.]
\[Please spend the next three days preparing. The mission system will reopen after that.]
Such were the messages delivered by the system.
A mission originally meant to take a month had been completed instantly, all thanks to the overwhelming demand.
The initial 500-unit limited run priced at 100,000 RMB per copy had now sold ten times that amount. And the total revenue? 333 times more.
This kind of overachievement shattered the system's mission cap and triggered an early evaluation and the highest level reward.
The reward? A series of treasure chests containing randomized items of varying quality—just like a loot box system.
Damn it. Isn't this just a gacha system?
Seriously, I transmigrated and the Goose Company's shadow is still chasing me!
Uchiha Kei took a deep breath. While part of him was thrilled that the mission was complete, another part felt constipated with dread.
Still, completing the mission was good. He immediately examined the new system functions—the shop and emotion point exchange.
These were part of the official system launch, a reward for clearing the novice phase.
Which made sense. Back when the system issued this mission, Uchiha Kei had already guessed that all his previous tasks were just introductory training.
Now, he had finally completed a full series—and even overachieved.
It proved that his decision to rely on support from the Uchiha clan and hold a product launch was the right one. The Earth-style marketing techniques he used had made the game a smash hit after the event.
After the presentation, representatives from all major clans immediately approached Uchiha Fugaku to purchase the genjutsu game.
After all, that "Gift to Konoha" message was emotionally devastating. A textbook case of "If you don't buy it, you don't love the village." Any shinobi who wanted to show love for the Hidden Leaf *had* to pay up.
And the effectiveness of the genjutsu game was already confirmed by Minato Namikaze's demo. For the sake of self-improvement and strengthening their families, friends, and clans, no one hesitated to buy.
Even though 20,000 ryō wasn't cheap, compared to the resulting power-up, it was practically a giveaway. So of course, people were buying like mad.
No deposits needed—everyone paid in full. The Uchiha hadn't prepared enough game scrolls in advance, but taking pre-orders wasn't exactly rocket science. Uchiha Kei went ahead and used that method without hesitation.
Even merchants visiting Konoha were interested and wanted to stock up to resell elsewhere.
Though those merchant orders weren't factored into the immediate sales numbers, the local shinobi alone were more than enough to exhaust the supply.
Each official game scroll could only be used by a single person through blood-binding, so shinobi clans tended to place bulk orders based on total ninja count. The system tracked this accurately, assigning sales volume based on how many users the scrolls were truly for.
In this aspect, at least, the system's intelligence was competent. It didn't just assume one buyer meant only one user.
Even if the available scrolls weren't that numerous, as long as payment was made and pre-orders placed, the system counted them toward the total sales.
Wait—how did the shinobi world's ryō convert to RMB?
Well, the ryō wasn't silver currency like in ancient China. It was just the general currency of the shinobi world.
Using the benchmark of a bowl of char siu ramen costing 60 ryō, the system converted ryō to RMB at a 3:1 exchange rate, hence the final sales amount being calculated as 33.33 million RMB.
Of course, this was just what the system counted up to. It stopped tracking once the mission cap was blown past. The actual final revenue would be much higher.
Uchiha Kei estimated the final sales would exceed 200 million ryō.
That's almost ten times Asuma's bounty.
Pure profit!
No question—it was insanely profitable!
Even though the sealing scrolls were expensive, bulk orders brought the price down to below 5,000 ryō each. Production cost per scroll hovered around 6,000 ryō, so the rest was all profit.
Such a huge margin would make even the Uchiha clan green with envy.
All told, setting up the venue, running the launch event, hiring a ton of shinobi and laborers—it had only cost the Uchiha clan a little over 100 million ryō. Labor costs were dirt cheap in this underdeveloped world.
Purely in terms of revenue, this was a massive windfall.
Just look at Uzumaki Kushina—this sealing technique researcher had become a franchise partner in the genjutsu game. Along with Minato Namikaze, the lifelong brand ambassador, the two of them held a 5% share. And right now? They were gleefully counting their money.
Don't scoff at 5%. The profit wasn't monopolized by the Uchiha. Even Uchiha Kei, the creator, only held 10%.
The remaining 85%? The Uchiha clan kept 35%, and the other 50% was allocated for alliance-building with other shinobi clans.
Uchiha Fugaku was already negotiating with representatives, announcing that the genjutsu game would enter true commercial operations. They had even formed a guild: the unassuming-sounding "Konoha Game Association," which would handle game operations moving forward.
The Uchiha would not hog all the benefits. They welcomed other forward-thinking clans to join. All it took was an investment and some family resources to help the guild promote products across the shinobi world.
Every major clan agreed instantly.
Anyone with half a brain could see the game's vast potential—and its profits. The fact that the Uchiha clan was willingly sharing only improved their image.
Hyūga, Nara, Akimichi, Yamanaka—all joined. Even the Senju clan, which had given up their surname to merge into the village, joined in. Sarutobi, Mitokado, and Homura's clans too—all generously offered funding.
As for Shimura Danzō...
Well, let's just say his family had terrible luck. Thanks to Danzō's reputation, the Shimura clan had long fallen into obscurity and become commoners. Ruthless to enemies—and even crueler to their own.
In short, a mega-profit alliance encompassing most of Konoha's ninja clans had been formed.
Most saw only the profit and the promising future. Some even believed the Uchiha had truly changed. That they'd willingly share such a lucrative, long-term enterprise stunned everyone—and boosted the clan's reputation immensely.
Only a few sharp minds like Nara Shikaku saw the deeper implications. This wasn't just a business alliance. It was a power bloc that could sway the entire Hidden Leaf.
Even the village leadership couldn't oppose them now. Their own clans were involved. Any move against the Uchiha would mean going up against their own families.
This was...
Pulling the rug out from under them.
Nara Shikaku, who had orchestrated the Ino-Shika-Chō alliance, couldn't help but admire the one who guided the Uchiha into this grand scheme.
Sure, among daimyo and nobles, this kind of maneuver was standard. But in a village where most shinobi were taught to solve problems with fists, this was a dimensional-level play.