Orochimaru's golden, slit-like pupils contracted slightly as he stared at the boy before him.
Immortality—
That word was not empty rhetoric to him.
It was an obsession born from witnessing the fragility of life, carved deep into his soul after endless deaths on the battlefield.
Especially after his student, Nawaki Senju, perished in the war, Orochimaru's fixation only intensified. From that moment on, he became desperate to transcend mortality itself, to shatter the limits of life through science and forbidden techniques.
Yet ironically, he had never truly begun.
Because just last night, Danzo Shimura, the man who had only recently spoken to him about Hashirama Cells, had been crushed outright by Wen Lan.
Orochimaru's fingers twitched unconsciously. He quickly steadied himself and curved his lips into a faint smile.
"Mr. Wen Lan," he said softly, "what exactly are you planning to discuss with me?"
"Why not talk about it at your place?" Wen Lan replied calmly.
"More than welcome."
Orochimaru led Wen Lan back to his residence.
Wen Lan had expected something more befitting one of the Legendary Sannin—at the very least, a spacious courtyard. After all, even if the title "Sannin" was something of an insult to the three of them, their status was unquestionable.
Instead, what greeted him was a cramped, ordinary room, no different from a civilian's dwelling. The furnishings were plain, and the space felt even smaller due to the clutter of experimental equipment scattered about.
"Orochimaru-sir is surprisingly… frugal," Wen Lan remarked, his gaze sweeping over the test tubes and scrolls piled in the corners.
Orochimaru chuckled lightly. "It's just a place to live. There's no need for extravagance."
He poured Wen Lan a cup of water straight from the tap.
No tea. No heating. Just tap water.
Wen Lan felt momentarily speechless.
Expecting Orochimaru to serve tea might indeed have been too much, but pouring unboiled water directly from the pipe was something else entirely.
"Now then," Orochimaru said with interest, "what thoughts do you have regarding immortality?"
"Please take a good look, Orochimaru-sir."
The moment the words fell, Wen Lan drew his blade.
Before Orochimaru could even react—
Slash!
Wen Lan severed his own neck.
Blood sprayed instantly. His head fell neatly into his hands, warm blood splashing across Orochimaru's face.
Orochimaru's pupils shrank violently.
The severed head opened its eyes in Wen Lan's palms, lips curling into a calm smile.
"See?" the head said evenly. "This is my path to immortality."
He calmly placed the head back onto his neck.
Flesh writhed.
Muscle, blood vessels, and bone knitted together like living vines. In the blink of an eye, the wound sealed completely, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin—no scar, no trace of injury.
Orochimaru couldn't stop himself. He reached out and touched Wen Lan's neck.
Warm. Real. Alive.
There was no residual chakra fluctuation at all.
His fingers trembled as ecstasy and greed flashed through his eyes.
"How did you do this?" Orochimaru demanded.
"This," Wen Lan said with a faint smile, "is precisely why I want to cooperate with you."
"My ability is called 'Demon'."
"If I so choose, by granting someone my blood, they can obtain an immortal body—true immortality."
"Even fatal injuries regenerate instantly. Severed limbs regrow as if it were nothing."
Orochimaru's body began to tremble with excitement, but he quickly forced himself to calm down.
"With such incredible power," he said slowly, "there must be unresolved problems. Otherwise, you wouldn't need me."
Wen Lan nodded. "Correct."
"Those who receive my blood cannot be exposed to ultraviolet light—they cannot endure sunlight."
"They also develop an extreme craving for human flesh. If they don't consume it, their bodies weaken rapidly."
"I want to work with you to eliminate these side effects."
"As my power grows, the blood I grant will also bestow greater strength—and unique techniques I call Blood Demon Arts."
"If you can help me solve these flaws," Wen Lan's eyes sharpen, "I will give you the most perfect blood—granting you true, eternal life."
Orochimaru's pupils contracted violently. His nails dug into his palms as he suppressed a near-hysterical breath.
"You're dangling immortality in front of me," he said hoarsely, letting out a low laugh, "knowing full well I'm a madman obsessed with forbidden arts."
"But you've convinced me."
"I will use every method available to dissect the essence of your 'Demons.'"
Wen Lan smiled faintly.
There was one thing he hadn't mentioned—the problem of the soul.
He was indeed immortal.
Genjutsu barely affected him thanks to the Sharingan.
Sealing techniques were troublesome, but not insurmountable.
The soul, however, was a far more dangerous weakness.
Fortunately, in the shinobi world, very few could directly attack the soul.
"But there's one more issue," Orochimaru added casually. "Research requires… materials."
"I know," Wen Lan replied without hesitation. "The Konoha Military Police detention facility has plenty of death-row prisoners."
Orochimaru laughed softly. "Then what do I owe you in return?"
"I want you to stand firmly on the side of the Uchiha, and to fully support Minato Namikaze's faction."
Orochimaru raised a brow. Since Nawaki's death, his obsession with the Hokage position had long faded—replaced entirely by the pursuit of immortality.
"That's all?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes. That's all."
"Oh, and one more thing," Wen Lan added lightly. "Finish the research within a year."
"Heh… rest assured," Orochimaru licked his lips. "The sooner I solve these problems, the sooner I can conquer eternity."
Wen Lan left behind a vial of blood and departed.
He strolled through Konoha's streets at an unhurried pace.
"Wen Lan!"
A girl's voice called out.
Turning his head, he saw Inuzuka Hana jogging toward him with a bright smile.
"You're not training today?" she asked cheerfully.
Wen Lan shrugged. "Senior Duy hasn't recovered yet, and Guy thinks my training speed is too slow. So I'll wait until Duy-master is fully healed."
Indeed, Wen Lan's shadow-level strength relied on opening the Eight Gates.
Pure physical training-wise, he was still inferior to Might Guy.
His body could regenerate, but the fundamentals weren't there yet—
Seven Gates was his current limit.
The Eighth Gate was still impossible.
"Then come shopping with me!" Hana said happily.
"Sure."
Wen Lan smiled, taking her hand as they walked together down the street, morning sunlight stretching their shadows long across the stone road.
Suddenly—
"Brat! You still dare to steal?! I'll beat you to death!"
The angry shout drew their attention.
Looking over, they saw a butcher wielding a stick, striking at two small children huddled on the ground.
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