Chapter Fifty-Five: The Divergent Path of the World of Hokage

In the remaining half month, Feng Xue no longer wandered aimlessly. After packing up the stone tablet, he returned to the inn and began to immerse himself in the ultimate study of illusion techniques.

He had discovered that true illusions were remarkably common and valuable in the world of Naruto. Even the Eight Gates, hailed as the pinnacle of taijutsu, fundamentally contained elements of illusion—reaching the second realm of illusion by deceiving one's own brain to unlock restraints.

After all, the brain isn’t just some faucet that can be opened by a burst of energy. Even if the theory that chakra can break open restrictions holds, once the first gate is opened and the brain's limits are lifted, the body should already be capable of exerting its full strength. So why does opening the remaining seven gates provide such terrifying enhancements? Take the last gate, the Gate of Death, which is located at the heart. Even if the heart has restrictions, unlocking them would only allow it to beat several times faster, but what does that achieve? At most, it would enhance blood flow, perhaps to the level of Luffy’s Gear Second, but there’s no reason it should grant abilities far surpassing those gained from lifting the brain’s limits.

As for the gathered chakra? It’s merely a form of self-suggestion. Like in Fate, where magicians use ritualistic gestures to cast spells—Rin imagines a dagger piercing her heart, Shirou pulls the trigger. These actions are meaningless in themselves but serve as cues to activate their abilities. In fact, even the hand seals used in ninjutsu, and the shouting of technique names, are also forms of suggestion (as are the chants for kidō in Bleach; otherwise, there would be no reason for post-chanting to retain its power).

The role of illusions was so profound that Feng Xue almost considered abandoning his gourmet cells to focus solely on illusions. But he quickly dismissed this idea; only a strong enough body could withstand the backlash and burden of deceiving the world. Besides, he hadn’t reached the hero level yet, and to unleash Origin he still had to rely on his Gourmet Demon.

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Half a month passed in the blink of an eye, and soon it was the day of the Chunin Exam finals.

Watching the influx of outsiders into Konoha, Feng Xue once again sighed that the Naruto world hadn’t just skewed its technological and political development trees—even its commercial tree was twisted beyond recognition. If this were a simulation management game, Feng Xue would directly recommend players delete their accounts and start over.

The technology tree, for instance, needs no further explanation. This world has electric lights, refrigerators, color movies, and wireless radios compressed to the size of Bluetooth headsets. Yet, despite all this, there isn’t a single black-and-white television. Perhaps you could argue that cathode ray tubes aren’t on the same branch of the tech tree, but the lack of landline telephones is harder to explain. Not just telephones—this world doesn’t even have telegraphs. They can use wireless radios, so why not telegraphs?

The political tree is even stranger. The main political systems of the countries lack control over military power. Never mind claims about daimyo having samurai or armies—those are fan theories. The existence of the Twelve Guardian Ninja proves that the daimyo’s security relies on ninjas. If there really were armies, why were they never seen when fighting Kaguya or protecting the daimyo? Even if the armies were ordinary people without chakra, shouldn’t they be stationed around the daimyo for protection? And forget the Land of Snow—those who were wiped out by a volley weren’t soldiers, but officials fleeing after a coup. Yet, this political system without military backing can flawlessly order the world’s primary military force—the ninja villages!

This is actually because the author doesn’t understand politics. In reality, only in China (and reportedly in North Korea) are political science and ideology included in compulsory education; in other countries, people only encounter such subjects if they choose to go into politics. As a result, when watching foreign films or animations, viewers are often puzzled by the bizarre choices of the characters and call it a drop in intelligence, but the true reason is simply the author’s lack of political knowledge.

Finally, there’s the economic tree. Especially after personally participating in the Chunin Exams, Feng Xue felt an urge to rant brewing in his unruly hair.

Konoha—or rather, the people of this world—seem to have no concept of mass entertainment. If Feng Xue were in charge of the Chunin Exams, he’d turn it into something akin to the Olympics, held annually in rotating countries, with veteran Chunin or Jonin as commentators, and broadcast the event live over radio.

The ticket sales alone could pay for a dozen S-rank missions!

As it stands, the enormous circular arena is at least several hundred meters wide; the towering stands rise forty meters from the ground. Feng Xue suspected the people of this world must all have telescopic vision to see the battle between two ninjas from such heights (like watching two people fight in a garden from the tenth floor—if you can make out their shadows, your eyesight is extraordinary), let alone hear their conversations.

So, even the main arena of the Chunin Exams is little more than a spectacle for most people, excepting a few ninjas.

In the original story, not only could the villagers clearly see the ninja battles, but they could also hear their tactical explanations. Even the daimyo and fat-cat merchants—clearly not the healthiest individuals—could simultaneously place bets and watch the fights with relish. Their box seats were even higher than those of ordinary spectators!

It must be said that Kishimoto’s grasp of politics, physics, and common sense is subpar.

But it doesn’t really matter; it’s a manga—so long as it’s fun, right? (￣▽￣)

Just as the eighty-eight constellations weren’t defined until 1930, yet the Saint Cloths in Saint Seiya are supposedly passed down since ancient Greece—at times like these, all we can do is smile.

……

After all this rambling, Feng Xue was already standing in the arena. Truthfully, he wasn’t comfortable with such situations, or perhaps he simply detested being treated like a circus monkey for public amusement. The arena’s structure was reminiscent of an ancient Roman coliseum, making him feel as though he were a slave forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of masters.

But considering the worldview of Naruto, perhaps such an analogy isn’t too far off.