Chapter 11: Does Genius Grant the Freedom to Do Whatever One Wishes?

Tobirama Senju’s eyes widened in surprise. There were few things left in this world that could astonish him, yet the young boy before him challenged all his preconceptions once again.

The recent taijutsu—clearly unlike anything Tobirama had ever encountered—was a brand-new style altogether.

“How old is he to have created his own taijutsu style?” Tobirama murmured to himself, his gaze towards Chu Yang shifting noticeably.

This kid had immense potential.

Yet, admiration aside, Tobirama would never let Chu Yang grow arrogant. Approaching him calmly, he said, “Your taijutsu is passable for now. You’ll need to keep improving.”

Chu Yang breathed a sigh of relief. Passable was good enough—at least he hadn’t drawn the ire of this strict second generation. With a hopeful smile, he asked, “So, can I learn ninjutsu from you now?”

Tobirama nodded slightly, his voice soft but firm: “Before that, I need to review what ninjutsu you’ve learned so far. A towering building starts from a solid foundation; fundamentals must be laid well.”

He then began teaching Chu Yang from the most basic techniques, starting with the Body Replacement Technique, even incorporating some knowledge about Shadow Clones.

Blessed with triple talent, Chu Yang absorbed the lessons swiftly, often drawing insightful connections that brought a satisfied smile to Tobirama’s face.

What kind of student do teachers cherish most?

The kind who grasps concepts instantly, needing little explanation to understand the essence.

Chu Yang was not only quick to learn but also astonishingly adept in practice.

Once he “knew” something, he usually “did” it.

The deeper the lessons went, the faster Chu Yang’s understanding grew.

In the blink of an eye, he had mastered all the foundational knowledge Tobirama wanted to review.

Even when Tobirama added many personal insights and valuable tips, Chu Yang grasped them effortlessly.

“He seems to have talents beyond just Wood Release…” Tobirama’s palms grew sweaty, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him.

He had an overwhelming urge to teach Chu Yang all the ninjutsu he knew.

He wanted to see just how far this boy could go.

But amid the excitement, he quickly set aside the thought. After all, Chu Yang was still a youth—exposing him recklessly to vast amounts of ninjutsu before his character was fully formed could hinder his growth.

As a researcher of ninjutsu, Tobirama knew all too well how dangerous it was for someone to focus solely on ninjutsu.

With that in mind, he deliberately slowed the pace of his teaching. Yet, even so, in just one day, Chu Yang had absorbed a tremendous amount of knowledge.

Tobirama felt both gratified and apprehensive.

As dusk settled, after sharing a meal, Chu Yang was politely sent away by Tobirama, who then hurried to report the boy’s progress to Senju Hashirama.

Hashirama set down the intelligence he’d just received, his face grave. According to Tobirama, Chu Yang was a supergenius among the Senju clan—a once-in-a-century prodigy.

Hashirama had thought he had sufficiently valued Chu Yang’s talent, but it turned out he had underestimated him.

“How did we fail to notice this before?” Hashirama sighed wryly.

“He’s an orphan,” Tobirama pondered. “He’s only studied the most basic techniques. No one paid attention to him. He never had access to advanced ninjutsu or the resources to learn them.”

Hashirama looked at his brother and asked, “Could he be the future of the Senju clan?”

Tobirama shook his head. “It’s too soon to say. After all, a genius who dies is of no value. Only those who survive can truly be called geniuses.”

Hashirama felt a headache coming, as if he were holding a priceless but fragile work of art. He muttered, “Should we temper him, or protect him?”

“Temper him, of course!” Tobirama’s eyes flashed with resolve. “If he breaks during the training, it simply means he’s not worthy of carrying the future of the Senju clan.”

“True enough, but…” Hashirama scratched his head, “If something goes wrong, are you sure you won’t regret it?”

Regret? Of course he would. Tobirama had never seen a child with such extraordinary talent. Losing such a successor would haunt him in his sleep.

Yet he firmly shook his head. Without being polished, jade cannot become a gem. If Chu Yang were sheltered by the clan forever and never faced the battlefield, how could he ever shoulder great responsibilities?

“Then keep him close and give him appropriate challenges,” Hashirama urged, anxious his brother might go too far. “Remember, I said ‘appropriate’!”

The two brothers once again engaged in a passionate debate over Chu Yang’s training.

Meanwhile, back at home, Chu Yang began studying the concept of Haki. He felt there was a strong affinity between Haki and Wood Release.

Even just using Armored Haki could significantly enhance the power of Wood Release techniques.

The problem was…

Chu Yang still had too little Haki, barely enough to cover his whole body, let alone overlay a Wood Release ninjutsu.

How could he quickly increase his Haki?

With ninjutsu, continuous refinement of hand seals and chakra flow could noticeably improve power, but Haki?

Haki had no such flashy mechanisms; at its core, it was a manifestation of spiritual energy.

Ordinary people could feel Haki’s presence and use it, but proficiency varied.

Studying Haki like ninjutsu would yield no results—they were fundamentally different.

If anything, Haki might be more closely related to genjutsu, as both concerned the spiritual realm.

This realization sparked a new idea in Chu Yang.

“Could using genjutsu to stimulate the spiritual level help train Haki?”

Eager to test this hypothesis, he began seeking out the clan’s best genjutsu experts the next morning.

“Genjutsu isn’t really the Senju clan’s strong suit. The Uchiha, on the other hand, are obsessed with it,” they told him.

“Many clan members have fallen victim to Uchiha genjutsu.”

“If you’re curious, go check the prison. There are quite a few Uchiha captives held there.”

Hearing this, Chu Yang’s excitement surged, and he headed straight for the dungeon.

Elsewhere, Tobirama, upon hearing the news, was puzzled.

Why did this brat abandon solid ninjutsu and taijutsu training to start fiddling with genjutsu?

Did being a genius grant such reckless freedom?

“Studying is one thing, but why the dungeon?” Tobirama hurriedly got up to follow. The Uchiha prisoners locked away were all formidable and valuable; those worthless had long since perished on the battlefield.

(Please continue reading, leave a recommendation, and don’t let the story stagnate, brothers!)