The battlefield of Kazama Valley was severely scorched, the earth turned into blackened, hardened mud. Mixed into the dirt was a dark crimson—the result of human blood seeping deep into the ground and being subjected to prolonged burning. The entire floor of Kazama Valley was covered in this horrifying soil, sending shivers down the spine of anyone who looked at it. Looking out, it was an absolute wasteland. The once boundless grasslands had become utterly barren, not a single blade of grass remaining. In the nearby river, the water ran thick and muddy, a faint dark red swirling within it. Countless corpses of shinobi floated on the surface, drifting aimlessly with the current to who knew where.
A pack of wild dogs with bloodshot eyes let out low, guttural growls as they roamed this wasteland, lowering their heads to gnaw on the shinobi corpses. From time to time, they would raise their heads and bark aggressively to intimidate the flocks of vultures and crows perched in the dead trees, preventing them from swooping down to steal their meal.
Up in the branches, flocks of red-eyed vultures and crows watched the wild dogs feast, patiently waiting for them to leave so they could descend and gorge themselves on the rotting flesh.
This area was the Uchiha clan's makeshift morgue. When dead clansmen were retrieved from the battlefield, they were supposed to be transported back to the clan compound for a proper burial. Initially, the Uchiha did exactly that. But as the war escalated and dragged on for years, the retrieved corpses were gradually just dumped here. Normally, someone was assigned to incinerate them with Fire Style Ninjutsu every day. However, due to the current dire crisis, no one had come to burn the bodies for several days, turning this place into a morbid paradise for scavenging wild dogs.
The war between the Uchiha and the Senju had expanded massively from the initial clashes at Kazama Valley to a fully spanning front. However, Kazama Valley remained the largest and most brutal battlefield. Uchiha Tajima and Senju Butsuma had been locked in a bloody stalemate here for six years. It was impossible to count how many shinobi lives had been fed into this meat grinder. The two Patriarchs had clashed personally countless times.
Aside from the two Patriarchs, there were also two Kage-level powerhouses—Senju Rokan and Uchiha Tō—as well as numerous Peak Jōnin experts. The intensity of this gridlock made it undeniably the most tragic and brutal war in the last fifty years.
Beyond this main front, there was the Kaze River battlefield. This newly opened front was commanded by the Quasi-Kage powerhouse, Uchiha Masada. Recently, this front had been facing catastrophic pressure. Their food shortage was the most severe across all three battlefields, and their defensive line was teetering on the absolute brink of collapse.
The third front was Nara Slope, with Uchiha Uken—one of the Uchiha's highest decision-makers and a fellow Quasi-Kage—acting as the supreme commander. Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna had been transferred to this front a few years ago. Their performance had been spectacular, earning them the title of the Uchiha's "Twin Stars."
Perhaps because Nara Slope was situated further to the rear, the situation there was the best among the three fronts. It remained relatively stable, though still undeniably cruel.
Back at Kazama Valley, after another day of brutal slaughter, the Senju's offensive withdrew right on schedule as the sun began to set. Uchiha Tajima wiped a mixture of blood and sweat from his face—the blood belonged to his enemies, the sweat was his own. After six grueling years of war, the Senju were finally showing signs of exhaustion, their offensives losing their previous razor-sharp edge. Because of this, Tajima was gritting his teeth and holding the line. He firmly believed that if they could just hold on a little longer—just a few more months—the Senju would break first. Clinging to this singular conviction, he had endured until now.
The refined steel longsword in his hand was heavily chipped and dented, looking more like a jagged saw. With a heavy sigh, he tossed it onto the ground with a loud clatter. He didn't even know how many swords he had gone through and ruined by now.
Returning to the camp, countless shinobi leaned against their tents, staring numbly at the setting sun with eyes completely devoid of life. If they had harbored hopes of winning this war at the very beginning, all that remained now was absolute despair. The only difference left to them was whether they would die tomorrow or the day after.
The thick stench of blood permeated the air. The wounded brought down from the front lines were receiving treatment in the rear medical tents, occasionally letting out agonizing wails. Although the Warring States Era had Medical-nin, their numbers were pitifully small, making it completely impossible to form an effective medical corps. On the battlefield, treatment still relied primarily on raw medicine, resulting in an astronomically high mortality rate for the wounded.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, plumes of cooking smoke rose in front of the tents. Dirty iron pots were suspended over campfires, boiling the absolute last of their meager rations. The shinobi who had survived the day enjoyed this rare, fleeting moment of peace.
Uchiha Tajima walked expressionlessly toward his command tent. The one-armed Uchiha Tō and Uchiha Sen were sitting cross-legged on the ground outside. In front of them, a large iron pot hung over a fire, continuously emitting hot steam.
Tajima approached and sat down cross-legged beside them. The two looked up and nodded at him in greeting. Having fought this war for so long, no one was in the mood for empty formalities anymore.
Tajima frowned as he looked into the boiling pot. Uchiha Sen was stirring it with a large iron ladle. The broth was completely clear, devoid of a single drop of fat or oil. Only a few pitiful wild weeds rolled in the boiling water. Aside from that, there was merely a single handful of beans—barely enough for one bite per person.
"Is this all that's left?" Tajima asked with a heavy sigh.
Sen looked up at him and replied, "Our grain reserves have reached a critical state. Just now, a subordinate brought over a single catty of grain for our pot, but I chased him away and told him to distribute it to the men. On the battlefield, we don't need special privileges. The clansmen are eating this, so naturally, we will eat this alongside them."
Tajima's face darkened. "On these kinds of rations, roughly how many more days can we hold out?"
"Three days. If no new grain arrives after three days, we will have to declare total starvation," Sen replied heavily. "Sigh. Word came from Kaze River—they've been completely out of grain for seven days now. Thankfully, because that battlefield was only opened the year before last and hasn't been reduced to a barren wasteland like ours yet, they still have some tree bark and wild grass to eat to stave off hunger. But if this continues, Masada says he doesn't know how much longer they can hold. The Kaze River defensive line could be torn open at any moment."
Sen picked up a porcelain bowl nearby, scooped up a serving of the clear broth containing some beans and wild greens, and handed it over. Tajima took it, took a sip, and said deeply, "I've already sent orders back to the compound demanding Uchiha Yutaka gather grain. Judging by the time, it should be arriving soon."
Sen smiled bitterly and shook his head. He ladled another bowl and handed it to Uchiha Tō, before finally serving himself. By then, nothing was left but clear, watery broth.
"I estimate the main compound doesn't have any surplus grain left either. We've been fighting for six full years. The resources we've consumed are astronomical. Even if Uchiha Yutaka is doing a phenomenal job managing the logistics, he can't conjure grain out of thin air. We need to start thinking of our own solutions."
Tajima looked at him and ultimately stayed silent. He knew what Sen said was likely the absolute truth, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
Just at that moment, a Chūnin sprinted over frantically, his face plastered with ecstatic joy. "Patriarch! Patriarch! A grain delivery! Lord Uchiha Taka personally brought a grain convoy! There are 400,000 catties!"
"What?!" Tajima was momentarily stunned before erupting in wild joy. Slamming his bowl onto the ground beside him, he shouted, "Quick! Bring him to see me immediately!"
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