It had been a few days since Itachi's breakthrough to level 3 Body Tempering. Now, his focus had shifted entirely to something new—blacksmithing.
"Why is the cultivation world so lazy?" Itachi muttered, narrowing his eyes at the bath he'd concocted—a bubbling mixture of refined herbs and powdered ores. Within it, a strip of metal slowly reacted, its surface shifting as the chemical reaction took hold.
Back on Earth, humans had figured out how to make the most of even the simplest materials. For something as common as a phone screen, they had developed techniques to reinforce glass, making it strong enough to resist cracks and shattering.
Here? Cultivators had spirit ores, heavenly flames, and rare herbs… and yet, they rarely used them with any real ingenuity.
The only reason glass was so durable in this world was that the sand used to make it came from high-grade spirit resources. It wasn't skill or innovation—it was brute reliance on quality. In other words, the cultivation world didn't know how to draw out the full potential of their materials. They relied on rare resources without ever mastering them. To Itachi, it was wasteful. Sloppy.
What he was doing now was far beyond traditional smithing. Atomic engineering—that's what he called it. Similar to gene editing, but focused on the building blocks of matter. Swapping atoms to reshape the structure and function of an ore.
Itachi's goal was simple—create gear that could grow with him. Not just durable weapons, but true companions in battle. He thought of the spiritual tools from the Naruto world, items that formed bonds with their wielders. If he could forge a weapon and anchor it to his very soul, wouldn't it grow with him? Wouldn't it adapt, evolve… become more than just metal? And why stop at a single blade?
He envisioned a full set of gear built around this concept—armor, weapons, tools, all alive in their own way. Naturally, he also wanted that extra flair: stat-boosting features like in those old Earth games. Sure, similar artifacts existed in this world, but they were rare, costly, and often came with hidden drawbacks. But this was his project. And he was Itachi. Drawbacks didn't apply.
In another room, one of Itachi's clones flipped through countless technique scrolls, eyes narrowed in silent judgment. He was searching for something very specific—a way to make techniques absolute. Permanent. Without built-in limits.
He hated the idea of techniques having restrictions, especially if those restrictions were ones he had placed on himself.
"The cultivation world is truly lazy," Itachi muttered, brushing past another stack of scrolls. Compared to the shinobi world, the gap was clear. There, some techniques didn't depend on one's opponent or realm, only on the user's own strength and chakra.
Take Dust Release, for example. It bypassed durability entirely, disintegrating everything within its range regardless of how strong the target was. It didn't matter if they had skin like steel or the defenses of a Nascent Soul cultivator—if they were caught in it, they were gone. The only real counter? Another user of Dust Release.
Then there was the Shadow Clone Jutsu. In the shinobi world, it wasn't seen as anything special—just a basic technique. But even that "basic" jutsu was absurdly powerful. The cultivation world didn't have anything like it. Cloning techniques were rare, and none came close to the sheer utility and efficiency of the Shadow Clone.
In a way, the cultivation world was like a backwater version of Itachi's past world—overflowing with untapped potential, yet stagnant in its thinking. If a real scientist were to emerge here, the things they could create… Oh wait, Itachi was that scientist.
In a nearby room, one of his clones stood hunched over a rough prototype—an engine carved from both modern knowledge and spiritual materials. On Earth, even basic resources could produce machines capable of breaking the sound barrier. So what would happen if that same technology was fused with cultivation-era craftsmanship? What kind of jet could be born from the union of science and Qi?
In one room, Itachi was surrounded by spinning wheels—dozens of them rotating at the speed of sound. Each was a different shape, size, and weight, crafted from various materials as he tested for the optimal design. His goal? To build a vehicle that could match a sonic boom using both science and spirit grade resources.
In another room, a softly glowing lightbulb hovered before him, flickering gently as it drew energy from both electricity and Qi. Laid out beside him was a blueprint for something far more ambitious: a functioning computer, one that could run not just on circuits, but on spiritual formations.
"I wonder what would happen if I create a puppet with the tech to build a robot. A fusion of the two… beautiful," Itachi said with a grin, turning to look at the computer.
Next to him, the light bulb above glowed steadily, powered by a combination of electricity and Qi. He stared at it for a moment, his thoughts drifting.
Here's a fun fact about the light bulb: those who make them are capable of producing ones that could stay on for years. But since there's no profit in making something that lasts, they're deliberately made weaker. The funny part? Most people know this, yet they don't care. That, in Itachi's mind, summed up the human mindset perfectly.
"I can't forget cooking, either… I could even make a picture book, music, sports—honestly, the ways I could make money in a cultivation world are endless," Itachi said softly as he created more clones to assist him.
Each clone got to work helping him construct a PC from scratch. He had assembled one back on Earth, so he knew all the parts and steps needed. But rebuilding one from nothing in this world was far easier said than done.
He might have to backtrack—start small. Create the basics first: the first phone, the first phone screen, and so on. The list was long, but he was patient.
"He's still alive?" the Ancestor asked, his voice low and unreadable.
The Emperor gave a calm nod, his expression complex. "The assassin just vanished. No trace left behind. We're not even sure if the protector acted… or if Itachi did something himself."
He paused, glancing toward the horizon. "But it couldn't have been Itachi, the strength are stronger than the prince's personal guard. He had just made a breakthrough after six months, it doesn't add up unless he made another breakthrough or was hiding his strength when facing the guardian. This has to be someone else moving behind the scenes."
The Ancestor didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed far off toward the direction of the 7 Lotus Sect, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
"Have them send more than one this time," the Ancestor said calmly. "I'll use my own funds." With that, he turned and returned to his chamber to cultivate, leaving no room for argument.
The Emperor nodded in silence, already moving to quietly raise the bounty on Itachi's head, contacting an organization that operated beyond the reach of his empire.
Time passed… and yet, despite the increased bounty, reports continued to return with the same result: Itachi was still alive.
More and more powerful assassins began to move, drawn by the promise of riches. The Ancestor, growing curious, finally decided to act personally. He hid nearby, intending to witness firsthand how Itachi dealt with such deadly threats.
But what he saw, or rather didn't see, unsettled him. Each time a Nascent Soul realm assassin struck—level 6 or higher—there was no fight, no trace of conflict. They would vanish from his senses, almost as if they had never existed. One moment, they were there. The next, nothing.
After seeing it for himself, the Ancestor left a week later, deeply unsettled. He had his son report everything to the Crown Prince's mother, convinced now that Itachi had a hidden protector—one even stronger than himself.
"You're useless," she snapped after hearing the Emperor's report. Her voice crackled through the communication mirror, sharp with fury. "I'll be there in one month."
Without another word, she ended the transmission, the mirror darkening as she turned away. Without pause, she began preparations to depart for the Great Ling Empire herself.
"Shouldn't you focus more on cultivation?" Snow asked, watching as Itachi sliced his palm open, letting blood drip onto the spiritual gear he had finally finished crafting after weeks of nonstop effort.
"If I defeat the boy's mother, I'm leaving the lower realm," Itachi replied flatly. "The longer I stay here, the more I slow myself down. I don't need experience. I don't need a backing. Honestly, the fact that Mom thinks this realm has anything to offer me is kind of insulting…"
He paused, lowering his hand to the gear as his blood began to bind with it.
"Still," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I do plan to put this realm to use in other ways."
What gear did he create? Well, nothing flashy—Itachi had no interest in ornate designs or trying to impress with appearances. Instead, he went with something familiar, something iconic. He modeled it after the Uchiha clan's traditional attire, specifically blending elements from both Madara and the Akkatsuki robes
The result was two complete sets.
The first was Madara's armor: a crimson, traditional samurai-like ensemble composed of layered metal plates that formed protective guards over the chest, waist, shoulders, and thighs. Beneath it was a simple, form-fitting black outfit that served as the base layer.
Of course, Itachi hadn't gone through all the trouble of forging gear just for the sake of wearing it. This armor was far more than just a protective shell—it was a masterpiece of design and function.
The gear was self-repairing. So long as even a single fragment remained, it could regenerate itself completely. It was also capable of absorbing all forms of energy—whether Qi, spiritual power, or even the force behind an enemy's strike. That energy wouldn't go to waste either. It would be fed back into the armor, reinforcing its durability over time.
Despite its impressive strength, the armor was incredibly light. Normally, the more durable a piece of equipment was, the heavier it would become—but Itachi wasn't bound by normal standards. He had crafted the armor to be supernaturally lightweight for its durability even before adding the arrays meant to reduce its weight further.
But Itachi didn't stop there.
The armor didn't just protect—it actively boosted his overall capabilities. The moment he put it on, his strength surged beyond normal limits. Even more impressive, the armor could adapt. The more it withstood attacks or elemental forces, the more resilient it became to those same threats. That adaptability created a passive shield, one that constantly evolved to better protect Itachi.
As for the second piece of gear, it was the iconic Akatsuki robe. It didn't need much of an introduction. The red cloud pattern was legendary in its own right.
Unlike the armor, the robe wasn't built for durability. Instead, it offered overwhelming power in exchange. While the armor was meant for long, grueling battles, where attrition and survival were key, the robe was designed for a different kind of fight. It was for moments when speed, aggression, and overwhelming force were necessary. When a drawn-out battle couldn't be afforded, the Akatsuki robe would be his weapon of choice.
Beyond the armor and robes were the weapons, where Itachi's creativity truly shone.
He forged a sword unlike anything the cultivation world had ever seen. It was designed to absorb kinetic energy, as well as other forms of energy, on contact. With every strike, it drew power from the atoms it touched, bypassing physical durability entirely. In essence, the sword didn't cut—it unraveled. No matter how tough the opponent, their defenses meant nothing when faced with a blade that ignored the concept of durability itself.
Then there was the Gunbai—a weapon deeply rooted in Uchiha heritage. It wasn't just a symbol of the clan's legacy, but a tool of overwhelming defense and offense. The fan absorbed incoming energy, regardless of its nature, and reflected it back with greater force. Whether it was a technique, a spell, or raw power, it was returned with interest. Not only that, but the energy it consumed could also be used to feed the weapon, allowing it to grow stronger with every clash.
He had even gone as far as to recreate the Sword of Totsuka and the Yata Mirror, along with many other legendary weapons from the Shinobi world. Itachi was enjoying himself more than he expected, crafting a unique weapon to complement every combat style he could imagine. Swords for precision, fans for control, and even ranged weapons that fused chakra and Qi in inventive ways. If there was a style, he had a weapon to match it.
Despite this flurry of productivity, Itachi was restless. It had already been ten days since he finished crafting the Akatsuki robes, and by now, he had expected the prince's mother to have arrived.
But there was still no sign of her. Even the assassins had stopped coming, which made Itachi certain that the emperor and his people had stopped wasting resources. They were waiting, clearly holding back until the prince's mother made her move.
But just how far away was she… to be taking this long?
Could she be coming with an army? It was possible. If so, that would certainly complicate things… but Itachi wasn't worried. He was a one-man army.
Even if she arrived with legions, he doubted it would make a difference. Not with the level of mastery he had achieved in formations.. With enough time and preparation, there were few things he couldn't defend against.
"You know your mother won't let me take you home, right?" Snow asked with an uneasy expression.
"Then I won't go back," Itachi said with a snort. "If she doesn't want me there, I'll go elsewhere."
His words were firm. Snow could only sigh in silence, helpless in the face of his defiance. With nothing more to say, he turned and left, heading toward Su Yan's side.
Moments later, a sharp grin tugged at Itachi's lips as the armor he had just bonded with dissolved into spiritual energy, vanishing into his body. The next moment, the Akatsuki robes reformed over him in a swirl of energy, draping across his frame like a second skin. Instantly, he felt it—his power surged.
Remember, even without using his chakra, Itachi's strength was already equal to a level 9 Qi Refinement realm cultivator. But now, with the armor fully bonded and active, he had skipped an entire realm—his presence now matched that of a level 9 Core Formation cultivator.
The moment the Akatsuki robes settled onto his body, Itachi vanished. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared high above the 7 Lotus Sect, suspended in the air, just in time to meet a blinding projectile—a powerful arrow screaming through the skies toward the sect.
The pressure it carried was immense, far beyond the Nascent Soul realm. This was a Martial King-level attack.
Itachi raised his fist and met it head-on. With only a sliver of chakra flowing through his arm, he punched forward. The moment his knuckles connected with the arrowhead, the overwhelming energy behind the attack was neutralized—silently. Not even a ripple of shockwave followed.