Chapter 219: Will "Breaking the Sky" Be Adapted into a Film or TV Series?
"You idiot, Naruto! Didn't I tell you not to jump in like that? You're hopeless!"
Although he was long used to Naruto's antics, Sasuke still couldn't help scolding him.
Naruto didn't respond.
Only a cluster of bubbles rose to the surface of the bathwater.
Well… that was an answer in itself.
Judging by the bubbles, Naruto was either trying to talk underwater—or he was farting.
Sasuke sighed. With Naruto, either was possible.
After another burst of bubbles, the water went calm for a few seconds—then, with a loud splash, Naruto's head popped up right in front of Uchiha Itachi.
"Boo!"
Naruto shouted, trying to startle Sasuke, who stood behind his brother.
Sasuke didn't even flinch.
This was nothing new. Naruto tried this trick so often that Sasuke had grown immune.
At first, it had worked once or twice. Now? Not a chance.
After the two finished horsing around, a gentle voice called from outside.
"I made some porridge. Would you like some?"
It was Uchiha Mikoto.
"Yes, please!" Naruto immediately shouted back.
He scrambled out of the bath, roughly toweled himself dry, and darted into the changing room to put on clean clothes.
Sasuke, who had been taking his time, suddenly sped up when he saw Itachi getting ready to leave as well.
He didn't want to be left behind.
By the time Sasuke followed his brother to the living room, Naruto was already sitting beside Fugaku—bowl in hand, eating porridge enthusiastically with an iron spoon.
He was completely absorbed, savoring every bite.
Mikoto soon walked in from the kitchen, holding two bowls of porridge.
She smiled at her sons. "There's more in the rice cooker if you want some. These two are for your father."
Itachi's sharp eyes immediately noticed that one of the bowls had an extra handful of small red berries—wolfberries.
Though Itachi was already a Jōnin who had completed numerous high-level missions, he was still young and somewhat oblivious when it came to the subtleties between men and women.
He didn't really understand why his mother would add wolfberries to only his father's bowl.
But then he recalled his father's recent fatigue.
Ah. It must be for his health. A tonic.
Itachi set aside the thought, went into the kitchen, and scooped two bowls of porridge—one for himself, one for Sasuke.
He handed his younger brother a spoon, and the two went back to sit on the sofa beside their father.
"Father," Sasuke asked suddenly, "can we watch that Breaking the Sky TV show you mentioned before?"
Fugaku was busy chewing wolfberries and replied casually,
"Not yet. They're still filming, so I'm not sure when it'll air."
He had personally entrusted the project to Uchiha Shimei, who was handling the adaptation.
The television studio's technology had come a long way—special effects, visual quality, everything.
They could easily bring Breaking the Sky to life.
Earlier, Shimei had shown him the casting list.
The actor chosen for the protagonist, Uchiha Yan, was far from ideal.
So Fugaku told Shimei to pick a few young men from within the clan—preferably those who had awakened their Sharingan—and let the studio staff choose one themselves.
Sure, the Sharingan could be faked with visual effects.
But why settle for fake when the real thing existed?
And besides, which man in the Uchiha Clan wasn't handsome?
They were leagues above those so-called "pretty boys" in the entertainment industry.
Any of them could easily play Uchiha Yan.
Of course, Fugaku's decision to greenlight the TV adaptation wasn't just for entertainment.
The novel Breaking the Sky had sold extremely well and had a massive fanbase.
If a television version came out now, it would surely attract countless viewers—and serve as an excellent way to promote the Uchiha Clan's prestige throughout the Land of Fire.
"Oh, I see." Sasuke nodded thoughtfully.
Naruto, still slurping porridge beside them, raised his hand excitedly.
"When it's out, Uncle, you've got to tell me first! I want to watch Breaking the Sky! It sounds awesome!"
Seeing him wave his spoon around, Mikoto quickly pulled out a tissue and wiped the porridge from his mouth.
"This child… careful! You just took a bath—don't get it on your clothes."
"Hehe, I know, Aunt Mikoto."
Naruto scratched his head sheepishly and grinned.
Fugaku chuckled. "Don't worry, Naruto. When it's ready, I'll make sure you're the first to know."
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The next few days passed quietly.
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In the Ninja World—
Iwagakure had recently suffered a silent setback at the hands of the Hidden Mist Village.
Ōnoki, the old Tsuchikage, was already scheming in secret.
Meanwhile, in the Hidden Rain Village, over a month had passed since Nagato's return.
His complexion, once deathly pale, had finally recovered a bit.
As usual, Konan entered the room carrying a bowl of medicine.
"Nagato, drink this."
Nagato silently accepted the bowl and drained it in one gulp, his face showing no emotion—as if it were plain water, not the bitter, throat-burning concoction it was.
He handed the bowl back to her, coughed lightly, and asked,
"Any changes in Konoha?"
Konan shook her head. "Everything's the same. No major movements."
Nagato nodded slowly. Ever since his defeat at the hands of Konoha's Fifth Hokage, keeping tabs on the village had become his daily habit.
What truly haunted him, however, was the memory of that day—
When the Outer Path Demonic Statue had vanished before his eyes.
Since then, an uneasy feeling had gnawed at his heart.
His body, too weak to summon the statue again, had forced him to wait.
But after more than a month of rest, his strength had somewhat returned—and now, he could wait no longer.
"Konan, push me outside," Nagato said firmly.
Konan hesitated.
"Nagato, maybe wait a few more days. Your body isn't fully healed yet…"
"No need," he interrupted, his voice calm but resolute. "I've waited long enough. I need to confirm what happened to the Demonic Statue. I… have a bad feeling."
Konan frowned. "That shouldn't be possible, right? No matter how strong Uchiha Fugaku is, he shouldn't be able to take control of the Outer Path Demonic Statue. You're the only one who can summon it."
"That's what I thought too," Nagato replied quietly. "But when I escaped that day, I saw a red giant—he did something, and the statue disappeared. At that moment, I felt it—my connection to the statue was severed, completely erased."
Nagato's expression darkened.
He hadn't flinched even when drinking bitter medicine earlier—but now, as he recalled that moment, his brow furrowed deeply.
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