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Chapter 95 - Chapter 95 : Orochimaru Ambition

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The smile on Orochimaru's face grew wider, more twisted by the second.

"Itachi
 seems large-scale ninjutsu is still your weakness."

"I should've reminded you back when we were in Root—you ought to work on that."

His grin turned smug, almost grotesque in its arrogance.

Itachi didn't respond. He simply exhaled sharply through his nose.

Then, with a flick of his left wrist, he yanked the chakra wire attached to the shuriken.

The blades instantly shifted direction midair, aligning in formation, each one igniting and forming a flaming arc that carved straight through the tide of snakes.

With both hands on the wires, Itachi pulled and adjusted, manipulating the flight paths of the shuriken with pinpoint accuracy.

Orochimaru's smirk faded, his gaze narrowing, overcome by a raw, hungry desire.

So this is the power of the Sharingan


As expected of the Uchiha clan's prodigy.

If only I could possess this body


His expression turned feverish. Obsession practically radiated off of him.

Meanwhile, the triple tomoe Sharingan in Itachi's eyes spun slowly, methodically tracking every movement in the field. In mere moments, the entire serpent horde had been annihilated.

And astonishingly, Itachi had used only a small fraction of his chakra.

It was a perfect fusion of the Uchiha Clan's shuriken manipulation techniques with the Phoenix Sage Fire Technique—taijutsu and ninjutsu in perfect synchrony.

Orochimaru, on the other hand, had burned nearly a tenth of his chakra to summon that swarm of poisonous serpents.

Itachi reeled the chakra wires back in, each shuriken snapping cleanly into his hand.

Not wasting even a single one
 He was frugal to the bone.

The chilled air had cooled the steel quickly, and when he caught the blades, only a faint warmth lingered.

After placing them carefully back into his pouch, Itachi appeared in an instant ten meters ahead, directly facing Orochimaru.

A cold smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth—eerily reminiscent of Sasuke's sneers in the future.

"Hmph. Orochimaru
 still obsessed with your little parlor tricks, I see."

"Whether it's those grotesque squads of ninja you cobble together, or that pathetic jutsu you just used
"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Trash is trash. No matter how many you gather, it doesn't change what they are."

His voice was sharp—cutting.

Orochimaru frowned. Something was
 off.

This wasn't like the Itachi he remembered. Aloof, yes—but this biting sarcasm? This brazen irritation?

Still, Orochimaru didn't dwell on it.

Whether Itachi was calm or cold or cocky—it didn't matter. All he wanted was the body.

Itachi suddenly drew a tactical dagger from behind his back.

His mood, already foul, had worsened the moment Orochimaru showed his face.

Uchiha Hikaru had told him to capture Orochimaru alive. Fine. That damn snake was notoriously hard to kill anyway.

If he didn't seal him with the Totsuka Blade, he was nearly impossible to finish off.

Perfect, Itachi thought.

I can cut loose.

Leave him half-dead and still fulfill the mission.

Uchiha Hikaru might even praise me.

A cold smile crept up his lips.

He dashed forward, ninja blade in hand, and slashed at Orochimaru's throat.

Orochimaru's neck retracted and arched backward, evading the fatal strike with inhuman flexibility.

Then—his mouth opened wide. A Kusanagi blade slid out like a tongue of death, stabbing straight toward Itachi's chest.

The short sword in Itachi's hand snapped up to block.

Clang!

The force of the clash rang out sharply.

Itachi stepped back twice to create distance. He glanced at his blade—and scowled.

It was now covered in fractures.

That ANBU-grade dagger cost 200,000 ryo


Do you know how many training manuals and weapons I could've bought for Sasuke with that?!

"Orochimaru
 You bastard! You're dead!"

With a swift motion, Itachi hurled the broken blade at Orochimaru's face.

Orochimaru blinked, bewildered.

When did Itachi become so hot-tempered? He's acting like Tsunade now... ready to explode over anything.

It's just a damn dagger


As the blade spun toward him, Orochimaru twisted his head and swung the Kusanagi Sword in his mouth, shattering the dagger with a single swipe.

But—

Clink.

Something felt wrong. The sound wasn't quite right.

No shards? No fragments?

Just—

Poof!

A cloud of white smoke erupted in his face.

From within it—whish!

The real cracked dagger came thrusting out of the smoke, aimed directly at Orochimaru's face.

He tried to contort his neck away, but—

Snap!

The handle jerked back—attached to an iron wire. Itachi had anchored the motion with a tug.

The blade, pulled in two directions, shattered violently on impact.

Shhk!

Blade fragments sliced across Orochimaru's neck.

The burst of metal at such close range was impossible to dodge entirely.

Grunting, Orochimaru clutched his neck as blood oozed from shallow wounds.

He pressed his hand against it, and glowing green chakra surged to the surface. The gashes began to close.

Itachi calmly picked up the dagger handle again, his face unreadable.

"This is the power of the Sharingan," he said flatly. "Your tricks are meaningless against these eyes."

Orochimaru removed his hand. His neck, now fully healed, looked as pristine as freshly grown skin.

It might as well have come out of a cloning tank.

If the fragments had hit just a bit deeper, he would've had to resort to his full-body molting technique to escape death.

His eyes locked on Itachi's.

This
 this is the Sharingan's true might.

He remembered when Itachi was just eight—able to dodge deadly trap kunai from every angle using only his Magatama Sharingan.

And now, with just a cracked dagger and some wire, he could press him to the brink of death.

Magnificent.

The Sharingan... it truly is the pinnacle of all bloodline limits.

Unlike Kimimaro's Shikotsumyaku, which carried that cursed blood illness, the Sharingan had no such flaw.

This... this is the body I need.

Ah... the Sharingan!

A gift from the Sage of Six Paths himself—an absolute masterpiece of bloodline evolution.

Orochimaru couldn't stop the thoughts from flooding his mind.

If he possessed Itachi's body—if he had the Sharingan—then with his enhanced vessel...

He could master all taijutsu by mere observation.

He already commanded all five basic chakra natures.

Every ninjutsu in the world would be his to learn and perfect.

With the Sharingan's visual prowess, he'd unlock forbidden techniques, bloodline limits, and hidden secrets at speeds ten times faster than before.

The Sharingan would be his gateway to everything.

To eternity.

To immortality.

Orochimaru's obsession was no longer just deep.

It was pathological.

He was a genius. A monster. A pervert.

And now, a madman consumed by the glory of the Sharingan.

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