Before departing, Shisui pulled Ida Ryuji aside for a private transaction. He tasked the rchant with sourcing high-quality iron ore from the Land of Earth—in massive quantities.
In exchange, the City Lord would purchase the entire stock at 20% above the market rate upon delivery. Ryuji, a veteran of the road, agreed instantly without asking a single question.
The caravans set out soon after. Harusa, Yuki, and Naoto flanked the wagons, heading west toward the rocky borders of the Land of Earth.
Shisui stood at the city gates, watching until the last carriage vanished into the horizon's dust.
The City Lord's Study
Shisui sat in the primary seat. The fat City Lord, Heiji, was propped on the floor, forehead pressed against the wood. Steward Matsumoto stood by the door, a silent shadow of devotion.
"Lord Heiji," Shisui began.
"Please, just Heiji! Call Heiji!" the man squeaked.
Shisui smiled thinly. "Heiji, Black Scorpion is gone, but your problems aren't. The toxins in your blood were only suppressed by his dicine; they haven't been purged."
Shisui produced a small, wriggling insect. "This is a Longevity Parasite. It will consu every trace of venom in your veins and reside within you. From this day on, you will be immune to a hundred poisons."
Heiji's eyes lit up with hope, then dimd as the weight of the gift hit him. "And the price...?"
"The price is that your life belongs to ."
Silence filled the room. Heiji trembled, but looking at the mory of his fallen guards and the sheer depth of this young man's sches, his courage failed. He took the egg and swallowed it.
As it settled, a wave of warmth washed away the years of chronic pain and toxin buildup. He felt revitalized—until Shisui pulsed his chakra, making the creature inside him stir.
The joy vanished, replaced by the cold reality of his tether.
"Master," Heiji bowed again.
"Rise. The city is still yours, but rember three things: First, Matsumoto is your handler; he manages all revenues from the estates.
Second, you will establish a private guard of no more than fifty n, trained by Matsumoto. Third, you will support Ryuji's ore business fully. Now, go."
Once the Lord left, Matsumoto hesitated. "Master, why not control Black Scorpion's crew the sa way? With your skill, surely..."
"So people cannot be caged, Matsumoto," Shisui explained. "Black Scorpion was a nihilist. n like him enjoy the edge of the blade; threatening them with death only invites more chaos.
You must understand the nature of the tool you wish to use."
That afternoon, Shisui left the city. He moved with incredible speed, reaching the Great Waterfall by sunset.
The thunderous roar and the damp mist signaled his destination. Behind that veil of water lay the Hidden Waterfall Village. His "defection" was finally coming to a close.
anwhile, in the dense forests of the Fire-Grass Border...
Orochimaru leaned against a charred trunk, blood seeping through his bandages. He was surrounded by the corpses of both Konoha and Iwa ninja.
Due to leaked intel and internal sabotage, he had been hunted for days without respite. His supplies were gone; he was out of food, dicine, and soldier pills.
The mission to "pursue the rogue" was a farce now—he was the one being hunted like a dog.
"Damn it all!" Orochimaru cursed internally.
Though Konoha reinforcents had thinned the Iwa pursuers, several veteran Jonin from the Land of Earth were acting like fanatics, determined to drag him to the grave with them. He could hear them closing in.
Suddenly, a series of deafening explosions rocked the forest—the sound of massive clusters of paper bombs. A dozen ninja clad in black appeared. Their leader stepped forward: "We are here by order of Lord Danzo to extract you."
With fresh supplies and Root's intervention, the Iwa forces were finally repelled. Orochimaru was escorted back to the front-line headquarters in the Land of Rain.
In a Spartan room, Shimura Danzo sat waiting. Surrounding him were high-ranking Jonin, including Jiraiya and the village elders Koharu and Homura.
Danzo spoke with practiced indignation about the Iwa ambush, hinted at the need for a "purge" of internal leaks, and emphasized his tily rescue.
He praised Orochimaru's contributions to the war effort with such gravitas that it almost sounded like genuine respect.
Once the eting adjourned, Danzo signaled for Orochimaru to stay behind. He poured a cup of tea, his expression a mask of stone.
"Your talents and your... research... are too restricted by the current frawork," Danzo said, his voice flat. "But I understand. Root's resources, laboratory access, and channels for 'forbidden' knowledge—I can provide them all. The future of Konoha needs n like us."
It was a cold, calculated invitation, yet it carried a rare note of "recruitnt of the gifted."
"This rescue was rely a gesture of goodwill," Danzo continued. "I don't ask for an answer today. But know that the gates of Root are always open to you."
Orochimaru's lips curled into a faint, serpentine smile. "Elder Danzo, you've gone to a lot of trouble," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave."
As Orochimaru walked out, the room returned to a deathly silence. But Danzo knew. The snake had seen the bait. Every man had a pursuit, and every pursuit was a crack in their armor. Danzo didn't need to be liked—he just needed to be necessary.
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