The Konoha Department of Psychological Warfare had achieved a major victory!

A celebration that couldn't be made public was being held in the department's secret base. As the newly appointed director of the Konoha Department of Psychological Warfare, Sarutobi Mizuki was absolutely elated. Others looked at him with admiration and envy—but not jealousy. After all, when it came to deceiving the visiting delegates from other villages, Mizuki had the most ideas, and he executed them with flair.

Naturally, when the mission was completed successfully, the higher-ups rewarded him and officially made him the first head of the department. Thus, the Konoha Department of Psychological Warfare was formally established today.

Before this, the department had only existed in draft form. The original concept, along with its operational outline, had been proposed by Uchiha Kei. But Kei himself had no interest in managing the unit—bureaucratic duties weren't his thing. They were a drain on energy and didn't help him grow stronger or accomplish missions more efficiently.

So after getting the department up and running, Kei discussed things with Tsunade and the others. They decided to treat the launch of the game *Ultimate Storm* and its presentation to the foreign envoys as both mission and test: whoever performed best during the event would become the first director.

Kei removed the shackles of traditional shinobi dogma for this trial. As long as they didn't harm Konoha, the participants could use any means necessary. It was like drawing a circle and saying: go wild. Be creative. Be human.

The shinobi world had always been twisted, and shinobi themselves were often no different than dogs on a leash. Generations had been conditioned by a rigid caste-like system, particularly after the founding of the hidden villages. Lords and nobles deliberately reinforced this mindset for the sake of 'stability.' To them, chaos meant danger. Hidden Villages possessed far greater strength than the old scattered clans ever did, so this mental leash had to be tighter.

Of course, this indoctrination was wrapped in noble terms like 'peace' and 'order.' And it had tangible perks—like more missions. The more obedient the village, the more jobs they got. When feudal lords collectively agreed that only rule-abiding villages would receive higher quotas, every village had to fall in line.

Konoha was the poster child for this: stable, powerful, rule-abiding, and trusted by the ruling class.

Even though shinobi held power, public opinion and 'the will of the people' were in the hands of the elite. If the daimyō shaped the narrative, the narrative became reality. Naturally, Konoha was proud of its image, while other villages either envied or resented it—and tried to compete or undermine it accordingly.

This created an environment where shinobi constrained themselves. Though they seemed free, they were deeply conditioned. Even when a strategy clearly favored them, if it contradicted the "shinobi code," they'd hesitate.

Take Jiraiya for example. He was a free-spirited vagabond on the surface, but when push came to shove, he obeyed the rules. Even while mentoring Naruto, he emphasized those same principles—preaching that a real shinobi endures pain others can't.

He wasn't wrong. He'd been raised on those teachings and truly believed them. And if someone like Jiraiya still bowed to the code, how could the average shinobi resist decades of 'training?'

As a transmigrant, Uchiha Kei believed in the creative power of liberated thought. All people needed was the space to think freely.

So, after careful selection, people like Sarutobi Mizuki were chosen—those with average combat skills but active minds. They were professional slackers, jaded paper-pushers who'd never made the cut as frontline shinobi.

But once their cunning and unorthodox thinking were properly guided, their 'uselessness' became genius.

This time, after Kei laid out the needs and objectives, their latent talents exploded. A month ago, when the plans were handed over, they were overwhelmed and lost. Kei made it clear he wouldn't manage them—just give orders. Left to their own devices, Mizuki and company had no choice but to hold brainstorming sessions.

And where there are group brainstorms, idea kings always emerge. Mizuki was that king.

A member of the Sarutobi clan, Mizuki had always been clever. He was once a playground ringleader, but lacking true shinobi talent, he faded into obscurity and ended up as a civil servant. What kept his mind sharp, however, was his love for books—any book. Philosophy, psychology, trashy novels—you name it, he read it.

Because of his position, Mizuki often interacted with nobility and daimyōs on behalf of Konoha. With experience and a wealth of knowledge, he became the department's idea factory. He even replicated the lavish behavior and backroom dealings he'd observed among the elites and merchants—repackaged and weaponized for the mission.

This blew the minds of Konoha's other slackers. It opened doors—sometimes a little too wide. Tsunade and the other higher-ups grew concerned. Was Konoha at risk of absorbing all these shady habits?

Kei believed it was inevitable. If Konoha pursued economic growth and self-sufficiency, corruption would follow. It was human nature. But Kei also said foreknowledge was power. With Mizuki's "education," Konoha could recognize these patterns early and develop countermeasures in advance.

Tsunade and the others agreed, and treated the mission as a valuable case study.

In the end, Mizuki and his team succeeded brilliantly. They not only fooled the foreign delegations, but also built profitable (and very mutual) relationships. Even the bribes offered were reported and taxed.

Kei, of course, understood the importance of incentive. He immediately allocated 20% of the seized funds: 10% went to department operations, and 10% as bonuses.

Naturally, Mizuki and the others were thrilled. They hadn't expected real pay—and suddenly, their motivation skyrocketed.

Thus, the department was officially born, and Mizuki was promoted and celebrated.

At the start of the party, Kei and the higher-ups were present, but quickly left to let the team enjoy themselves. Mizuki was overjoyed—and profoundly grateful.

Because of Kei's plan, he finally had purpose, status, and the chance to shine for Konoha.

He owed everything to Kei-dono.

At this moment, Mizuki's respect for Kei surpassed even his reverence for Hiruzen. If Kei ever ran for Hokage, Mizuki would vote without hesitation.

But since Kei didn't want political power, Mizuki pledged his support to Tsunade and Minato—Kei's rumored lover and closest friend, respectively. Political alliances form this way.

And Mizuki didn't keep this gratitude to himself. He shared it openly at the party, reminding everyone they owed everything to Kei-dono—and that betraying him would be unforgivable.

Naturally, the entire department agreed. Their fates were all the same: formerly nobodies, now vital contributors to Konoha. They raised their glasses in Kei's honor.

Meanwhile, the man of the hour—Uchiha Kei—was basking in a different kind of glory.

*Ding\\~ Congratulations, Host! You've completed a main quest! Total players: 200,000.*

*Ding\\~ Rewards distributed. Please check your inventory.*

Two weeks after the various village envoys reluctantly left and half a month after reviving Hashirama Senju, Kei finally received the completion notice.

He was overwhelmed. It had taken nearly three months—far longer than previous quests.

And sure enough, a new quest appeared… this time demanding 500,000 total players.

Seriously? 2.5 times more?

Stupid system… You shady little thing! You've finally shown your true feathers!

Grumbling, Kei opened the reward pack. Light flashed. Green and blue items filled the air, along with a few rare purple ones. But what caught his eye was the enhanced golden item—the upgrade material for his Mental Network Mastery.

Without hesitation, Kei used it. His Mental Network skill upgraded to Level 4.

New knowledge and memories flooded his mind. The sheer volume left him dizzy and exhausted. He closed his eyes.

For half an hour, he remained still. When his bodyguards noticed something was off, Uchiha Jiri stepped forward anxiously to check on him—just as Kei's eyes shot open.

His Sharingan spun—three tomoe, flawless and radiant. The tomoe rotated rapidly, their lines sharper than ever. He had entered the strongest form of the Three-Tomoe Sharingan, standing equal with the Uchiha elites like Jiri.