Chapter 295: Orochimaru's Hesitation
"Mizukage-sama, doing this will put us against every ninja clan in the Mist."
Chojuro might look like a simpleton, but he was anything but slow-witted.
Otherwise, he would never have been fated to become the Sixth Mizukage—he had a sharp political mind.
And he understood clearly—
If they carried out Mei Terumi's plan, the two of them would be hated by all the ninja clans.
They might even be labeled as enemies,
Marked for assassination, poisoning, or covert elimination—perhaps even worse than during the Blood Mist period under the Fourth Mizukage.
Countless clans would want their heads mounted on pikes, as a warning to any Kage daring to found a new empire.
"Doesn't it all strike you as strange?"
Mei's eyes gleamed faintly as she asked, "Whether it's the Arad Continent, the ruins in the Starter Village, or the worlds behind these game abilities…"
"You rarely ever see powerful beings serving completely helpless civilians—those so fragile even a barely trained genin could kill them."
By "helpless civilians," she meant the rulers of the nations—the daimyo.
This time,
It was Chojuro's turn to look confused. "Aren't ninjas born for combat and killing? The daimyo and the country provide us with food and funds. We fight their wars in return."
That's how it had always been. For hundreds or thousands of years, ninjas were mercenaries, hired by lords to conquer enemy lands.
Very few could think beyond that established ninja mindset.
"Exactly. That's the consensus of the ninja world."
Mei nodded, then added, "But by that logic, as long as ninjas exist, the ninja world will never know peace. We'll be locked in eternal bloodshed."
Ninjas were born for killing. As long as more ninjas were born, more death would follow.
"That…"
Chojuro was at a loss for words.
Whether civilian or ninja, noble or daimyo—everyone in the ninja world had thought about peace.
Some, like Yahiko and Jiraiya, had pursued it relentlessly.
Others had given up long ago.
"I thought and thought. I read those long-winded, complex texts that do nothing for your strength."
Mei's voice was calm and level. "And eventually, I came to my own conclusion."
"The ninja world shouldn't exist. Neither should ninjas. It's all a mistake."
Her tone was flat.
But Chojuro's heart pounded in alarm.
Had their Mizukage gone mad from training some forbidden Flame Mage technique?
Still, curiosity stirred inside him. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "You mean… our current ninja world shouldn't exist?"
"That's right."
Mei's reply was crisp and unwavering. "I've read the histories found in many ruins."
"All those nations… they grew from tribes to villages to clans to kingdoms, through long, arduous development."
"But our ninja world? It's only ever been war."
The ninja world was like a child.
A world that should have gone through growing pains and scraped knees—accumulating wisdom and experience.
Then, upon reaching adulthood, it would finally understand the meaning of peace.
Conflict, strife, bloodshed—none of that was inherently bad. With enough wisdom, someone would eventually rise to change it.
But now?
These "children" wielded chakra far too early. Before they had time to mature, they were thrown into battle.
And so, children kept dying.
The victors among them had neither the wisdom nor the maturity to change the system.
Soon, they too were replaced by another generation of "strong children."
Just children.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
After reading countless records, Mei believed the entire ninja world was a mistake.
The Will of Fire, the Will of Stone—it didn't matter.
Childlike minds should never be allowed to rule the world.
Orochimaru's Fire Empire used cruel methods, yes—
But Mei saw something different in it: a force strong enough to break the structure of the ninja world.
She didn't want to keep going like this.
Even if it meant being hated by every clan in Mist, she wanted to carve out a new future for those who remained loyal to her.
"Will you stand with me, Chojuro?"
Having shared everything in her heart,
Mei removed her Mizukage hat, revealing her flawless, stunning features.
She reached out her hand, looking at Chojuro with solemn eyes.
The usually shy Chojuro
Did not blush or stammer as usual. Instead, he fell to his knees and said with firm resolve:
"You've always been the senior I respect most."
"I serve you because when the village was in its darkest hour and everyone turned away, you risked your life to bring Mist back from the brink. You saved us all."
"As long as your convictions remain, I and my Hiramekarei will always be your sharpest blade."
The honest, humble, now rather misshapen-looking Chojuro spoke with unshakable conviction.
Mei looked at him in surprise.
She hadn't expected her timid deputy to say such things.
He didn't pledge undying loyalty blindly—he simply laid everything bare. His sword was for the people and the village.
"This is your will? Admirable!"
Mei didn't hold back her praise.
She'd once worried Chojuro was too soft.
But now, she saw it differently.
The new generation in Mist was beginning to shine.
And then—
Mei recalled the way he'd addressed her.
Her gaze sharpened dangerously. The temperature in the room spiked.
Chojuro began sweating, visibly anxious.
"Calling me 'senior'... Are you saying I'm old, you bastard Chojuro?"
BOOM.
Dense blue lightning—like ocean waves—rained down over the Dragonkin's domain.
The once-glorious Dragonkin Hall had already been reduced to rubble.
"Invader, accept the funeral rites of thunder!"
Dragonkin Chieftain Lukas raised the corrupted artifact in his hand—the trident crackled with surging lightning.
Orochimaru, in his Necrocurse Serpent form, had already been charred black by the thunder.
Crackling lightning still danced across his scorched scales.
Paralysis.
It slowed his movements.
And the death-magic boosting ritual array he had laid earlier had already been destroyed by successive lightning strikes.
"As expected… soloing a Tier-2 lord might be pushing it."
Orochimaru panted.
His serpent tail grabbed a bottle of energy potion and shoved it down his throat, glass and all, replenishing his nearly depleted reserves.
Necrocurse Serpent was his strongest form.
Upgraded to Tier-2 using a [Skill Rank-Up Scroll].
Its serpent body was tougher, its scales inscribed with intricate necromantic runes—far beyond his old White-Scaled Serpent.
He had seen the power of a berserk Nine-Tails—
A monster capable of destroying the world.
Even that would've been flung aside by a swing of this serpent's tail.
But now—he was being thrashed by a Dragonkin Chieftain.
"…"
Orochimaru stared coldly at Lukas.
Even the veteran boss who had slain countless invaders felt a chill in his heart.
"I've destroyed your freakish serpent body and countered your necromantic magic… So why do I still feel danger?"
Lukas's gut twisted.
And then came rage.
He was a Tier-2 lord—yet he'd been intimidated by a Tier-1 ant!
CRACK!
Lightning struck.
This time, Orochimaru didn't dodge. The bolt struck him squarely.
His serpentine body split apart. Inky necrotic energy spilled out, the rune patterns on his scales beginning to fade.
"Should I do it?"
Orochimaru's eyes flickered with a chilling glow, hesitant.
He still had a trump card.
He could sacrifice all of his painstakingly cultivated undead—
And channel them into the Necrocurse Serpent for a temporary but immense power boost.
Lukas hadn't even noticed yet—
His back, covered in blue scales, was crawling with dozens of gray-black, wormlike undead serpents.
At any moment,
They could twist together into necromantic chains—
And bind him in place.
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