Chapter 121: Intelligence from the Land of Wind
Orochimaru smiled slightly as he noted the fear in the renegade ninja's eyes. The Muramasa held against the ninja's neck was perfectly steady. He carefully observed the renegade, who, like the five pursuing ninja, wore a Grass Village forehead protector.
This was a moderately thin young ninja, around twenty years old, with striking golden pupils and pink hair.
His simple, clean ninja outfit was stained with his own blood and that of others, and he bore a number of wounds. Yet, this mentally resilient renegade ninja showed no sign of weakness, maintaining his composure while being chased by three or four teams of ninja.
Seeing that Orochimaru did not intend to kill him immediately, the deep-seated fear in the ninja's golden eyes slowly dissipated, replaced by a collected calm in the face of danger.
The change in the ninja naturally did not escape Orochimaru's notice. He revealed a look of interest and asked faintly: "A renegade from the Grass Village?"
"Yes, milord!" The ninja's reply was concise and respectful.
"Why did you become a renegade?" Orochimaru, perhaps recalling his own past defection, asked an uncharacteristically personal question.
The ninja considered his words before speaking: "I used my comrades' bodies for experiments, trying to discover the secrets of the Bloodline Limit. I want to prove to others that even without a Bloodline Limit, one can master abilities even stronger than they are!"
Toward the end, the ninja's voice betrayed a hysterical madness, and a fierce gleam shone in his golden eyes.
Orochimaru knew that this was an ideal, or rather, a deeply held conviction.
Hearing the ninja's words, Orochimaru's heart stirred. He saw a part of himself reflected in this ninja.
Orochimaru moved the Muramasa away.
The ninja froze for a second. Instinctively reversing his grip on the surgical knife, he immediately took a step back, his expression grave and wary of Orochimaru's next move.
Orochimaru watched the retreat and the caution, but paid it no mind. He asked: "What is your name?"
The ninja thought for a moment, but finally gave his name: "I am Katō Ryūya. Thank you for saving my life, milord!"
Orochimaru smiled wickedly at Katō Ryūya's gratitude: "Thank me for what? I didn't save you to let you go. I want you to be my subordinate!"
Katō Ryūya's presence suddenly sharpened, but he abruptly lowered his surgical knife and said coolly: "What if I refuse?"
Orochimaru's smile grew even more wicked and brilliant. A bright gleam surged in his dark-golden eyes, and a faint killing aura flowed: "Refuse? We are all intelligent people. I trust you know that if I can hold a blade to your throat once, I can do it a second time!"
Katō Ryūya offered a helpless smile, unsurprised by the answer. He subdued his defensive posture and walked over to Orochimaru's side, though he maintained about a meter's distance.
Orochimaru re-tied the Muramasa to his back and walked ahead.
Sakumo glanced at Katō Ryūya and followed suit.
Katō Ryūya weighed the pros and cons once more and walked closely behind Orochimaru.
The trio, in their strange, tense atmosphere, resumed their journey.
And from this moment, Orochimaru began to treat the entire Ninja World continent as a chess board, slowly arranging his pieces as his journey progressed.
Under his influence, the politics and situation of the entire Ninja World became even more turbulent and fraught with hidden currents.
Three Years Later
Three years later, inside an ordinary compound somewhere in the Land of Rice Fields (Rice Country).
A ninja dressed in black with a stern expression suddenly appeared in the courtyard.
The instant he appeared, at least a dozen auras, no weaker than that of a Chūnin, swept over him.
The ninja showed no surprise. He stood still for a moment, accustomed to the scrutiny, and then, after the auras confirmed his identity and moved away, he quickly walked into the main hall.
A man who appeared to be the compound's owner met the entering ninja's gaze and knowingly took the intelligence scroll, which had a secret technique seal, from the ninja's hand. He waved his hand, signaling the ninja to withdraw.
After the ninja left, the owner of the compound immediately retreated to the back room and tapped the wall next to a bookshelf in a specific pattern.
Then, the bookshelf, which was taller than a person, suddenly emitted a series of mechanical sounds and revolved abruptly, revealing a bright, deep passage.
At the entrance to the passage within the bookshelf, two expressionless Chūnin stood guard. One of them pulled a steel lever, which was the mechanism for rotating the bookshelf for the compound's owner.
After the bookshelf turned ninety degrees to the wall, the owner exchanged a look with the two ninja at the entrance, confirmed everything, and walked through.
The passage was not long, about twenty meters, ending at a stone door. Upon pushing it open, a huge, noisy wave of sound washed over the compound's owner.
Behind the stone door was a massive ninja training ground. Dozens of children and adolescents of varying ages were training fiercely, sweat pouring down them. In everyone's eyes shone a determined and brilliant light.
The ventilation system in this hidden, underground training ground was excellent, and the air was fresh, not stuffy. The compound owner was not surprised by the sight. Instead, he felt a strange emotion welling up from the depths of his heart, and his eyes reflected the same light and emotion as the training ninja.
It was worship, admiration, unwavering conviction, and loyalty.
The compound owner did not stop walking. He passed through the training crowd, heading toward the innermost door.
As he drew closer, his expression and posture became more respectful, approaching the door almost like a pilgrim.
Knock, knock, knock—
He knocked on the door. A man with pink hair and golden eyes opened it. Seeing the compound owner, he said nothing, simply stepping aside to let him enter.
The room inside was arranged extremely simply, no different from an ordinary office: a desk and a high-backed chair.
The high-backed chair was turned away from the door. Standing beside it was a youth whose entire presence was as sharp and exposed as a blade.
The pink-haired man closed the door and walked to the other side of the high-backed chair, where he stood waiting.
The compound owner gazed at the high-backed chair with reverence, then respectfully lowered his head, presenting the intelligence scroll: "Milord, we have the latest intelligence from the Land of Wind!"
The pink-haired man took the intelligence scroll and signaled for the compound owner to withdraw.
With a flurry of blinding hand signs, the secret technique seal on the intelligence scroll was instantly released. He then presented it for the person seated in the high-backed chair to review.
The room fell silent for a moment. Then, the person turned the chair around, revealing his face.
His physique was well-proportioned and beginning to look lean, and his pale, handsome features carried a somewhat androgynous delicacy, yet they exuded a wicked, captivating charm enhanced by his dark-golden eyes.
His pale, slender right hand held the intelligence scroll he had just finished reading. His left hand rested lightly on a long blade that was concealed in a black sheath, yet radiated an incredibly suppressed, astonishing killing aura.
He remained silent. His dark-golden eyes were filled with vast intelligence. He was Orochimaru!