013 The Target is the Job Change System

The boy sitting at the desk was named Yamato, root code ‘Alpha’, the only ninja in the current shinobi world who could wield Wood Release. He was about eleven years old, yet his life experience surpassed that of most people’s entire lifetimes.

Orphaned at a young age, he wandered the world alone, selected by Root as a test subject, but survived a deadly experiment against all odds. By chance, he gained the abilities of the ‘God of Ninja’, and now, thanks to a certain transaction, he had the fortune to leave the shadowy confines of Root.

The Lamp Spirit stroked his chin, sizing up the Wood Release boy from head to toe.

So many elements converged on this child; in theory, he ought to be the world’s chosen one, destined protagonist. Unfortunately, in the shinobi world, bloodline was everything. According to the original timeline, his future ceiling was that of an elite jonin—nothing more than ordinary.

Yet now, before him, under Orochimaru’s tutelage, the boy had a chance to change his fate.

Seated behind the desk, Orochimaru casually flipped through the materials, reading ten lines at a glance.

There were countless records of the First Hokage cell experiments, but limited by the researchers’ abilities, most data was repetitive. In less than half a day, Orochimaru had read them all, sorting out the crucial records into separate categories.

The Lamp Spirit leaned in, “Judging from your expression, you’ve gained quite a bit.”

“Indeed.” Orochimaru’s lips curled into a smile, joy flashing in his eyes. “With Yamato and this data, I can restart an abandoned experiment…”

After briefly describing the experiment, the two, with the Lamp Spirit in tow, headed straight for the laboratory outside the village.

On the way, Yamato’s emotions remained calm. Even knowing he would once again face experimentation, his dead-fish eyes stared ahead unmoved.

It was more numbness than resilience.

In the Konoha forest, beneath the earth, Orochimaru worked methodically in his underground laboratory.

He extracted Yamato’s cells, intending to use them as the foundation for developing a new genetic serum capable of bestowing Wood Release.

This time, the principles and steps were ready-made, posing no technical challenges.

The original experiment was abandoned because, once removed from the First Hokage’s body, the cells behaved like cancer, endlessly absorbing nutrient solutions and proliferating until they grew into a massive tree.

Yamato’s cells, however, based on Root’s experimental data, were far more stable than the original ones.

Even so, Orochimaru failed six times before succeeding.

He shook the container of pale green liquid, a hint of intoxication flickering in his eyes, then drank it down in one gulp.

In the past, experiments like these would require laborious efforts to catch mice, control variables, and conduct repeated trials.

But now, having mastered the breathing techniques, he possessed deeper control over his body. Even if complications arose, Orochimaru was confident he could suppress any side effects to a minimum.

“Ah… ah…” As the pale green liquid entered his body, Orochimaru collapsed to the floor, convulsing in agony, low cries escaping his lips.

The rejection response was expected.

Yamato’s cells, though weakened, still possessed the aggressive nature of the First Hokage’s, requiring chakra and willpower to tame.

On the other side of the lab, witnessing Orochimaru’s transformation, a ripple appeared in Yamato’s previously lifeless gaze, his thoughts unreadable.

The experiment did not take long.

Orochimaru stood, confusion etched across his face.

The rejection had vanished completely, but his body did not seem to have changed in any obvious way. He had not mastered Wood Release.

“No, the experiment succeeded. You’ve gained a new ability—I can see it clearly,” the Lamp Spirit declared, his tone somewhat peculiar as he poked his head out from Orochimaru’s body. “It’s just not Wood Release.”

He had observed the entire process from within Orochimaru, intimately aware of every shift.

From his perspective, Orochimaru now possessed a new strand of information within his body.

This information represented his newly awakened ability.

Without further explanation, the Lamp Spirit grabbed a scalpel and sliced a finger-length wound across Orochimaru’s arm.

Pain interrupted Orochimaru’s thoughts. He looked down, staring at the wound, his expression shifting.

The wound was healing, not as rapidly as medical ninjutsu, but it was actively closing on its own.

He had not consciously intervened, yet chakra around the wound was being consumed.

It was as if the body possessed its own will.

“Interesting,” Orochimaru licked his lips. “Could this be the First Hokage’s remarkable regenerative power?”

“Not even close. But you do possess a fragment of the Sage Body—an extremely incomplete version. Unlike ninjutsu, it’s a passive ability, a so-called passive skill,” the Lamp Spirit said, his tone tinged with amazement. It was the first time he had encountered a host awakening a passive skill.

Orochimaru certainly had many passives—his affinity with all chakra natures, for instance, was likely exceptional.

But these passive abilities were intertwined with the body’s complex information, unlike ninjutsu, which was actively deployed and could be easily captured.

Yet, just now, as Orochimaru’s body acquired a passive skill, the Lamp Spirit gained some insight—perhaps a method could be developed to sense passive abilities.

He informed Orochimaru that he would need to remain dormant for a while.

Orochimaru looked at him, puzzled. “This so-called passive skill... You couldn’t replicate it before?”

“Of course not. Who do you think I am?”

The Lamp Spirit rolled his eyes. “I am the Lamp Spirit. My profession grants me only the abilities to form contracts, fulfill wishes, and collect payment.”

Orochimaru realized then that abilities such as replicating ninjutsu were unique to the Lamp Spirit, skills he himself had developed.

Unsatisfied with being merely a functional artifact, the Lamp Spirit had always strived to expand his potential, broaden his services, aiming one day to transition into… a multi-functional system.

System—a curious title, Orochimaru mused.

Still, it sounded inspirational: an immortal being, ever hungry for improvement.

“Wait, if you’re dormant, who will wrap up our previous arrangements?” Orochimaru suddenly snapped, displeased.

They had agreed to share responsibilities, and now the Lamp Spirit was shirking his part.

“I told you before, I can help you, but if you become reliant on me… you’ll die quickly.”

“Now, you must feel shame,” said the Lamp Spirit with exaggerated solemnity, ladling out motivational platitudes over Orochimaru.

From the start, his goal had been clear: above all, to improve himself.

Ninjutsu and knowledge were quantitative gains; acquiring the ability to extract passive skills was qualitative.

Now, with a chance to expand his abilities, he could not be bothered with Orochimaru for the moment. Besides, given Konoha’s current situation, nothing would collapse.

At worst, things would unfold as in the original timeline—Orochimaru defecting.

Not a catastrophe.

The motivational speech had little effect. Once certain the Lamp Spirit would not intervene, Orochimaru’s mood soured.

Ultimately, one must face one’s own affairs.

Orochimaru’s anger stemmed from broken promises.

“By the way, Water Breathing can be selectively taught to Yamato. His potential is greater than you think,” the Lamp Spirit left behind as his voice faded into silence.