Chapter 47: Thinking Too Small

“Orochimaru, our Cloud Village agrees to end this war,” said Killer Bee, the Jinchuriki of the Eight-Tails, speaking out of turn.

At present, Cloud still held the advantage in numbers on the battlefield. If they could just hold out until the summoning time of the myriad snakes ended, their forces might even be able to push back against Konoha. But that was without considering Orochimaru.

By all rights, after so many consecutive battles, the enemy’s chakra should have been nearly depleted. The fact that he still appeared perfectly unscathed was likely an act. But Killer Bee dared not gamble on that. This man was simply too mysterious, his methods endless and unpredictable—who could guess what he might pull next?

More importantly, his elder brother’s injuries were truly severe.

Killer Bee glanced at the Raikage, who was receiving treatment from medical-nin, and his brow furrowed. Though the bleeding had barely been stanched, the wound showed no sign of healing. Who knew what consequences might follow? More comprehensive treatment was urgently needed; time could not be wasted.

Bee understood his brother’s temperament all too well. As Raikage, he could not be seen as forced to bow his head. So there was nothing for it: Bee had to speak for both of them. As for the consequences of acting on his own, Bee cared little. As the Jinchuriki of Cloud, he was well acquainted with such burdens.

“Killer Bee, you—” The Fourth Raikage pressed a hand to his side. The two brothers had always been attuned to each other; in an instant, he knew what Bee intended. Yet as Raikage, how could he let his brother shoulder the shame of defeat?

He struggled to rise, but a tentacle pulled him back.

“Take the Fourth and withdraw. I’ll cover you,” Bee commanded.

With this intervention, the Raikage had no further chance to speak. The other Cloud shinobi dared not risk their leader’s life; they swiftly supported the Raikage and retreated.

The hulking Eight-Tails lumbered after them, moving backwards to protect their withdrawal.

The storm clouds dispersed. In the chill of the night wind, Orochimaru stood atop the head of Manda, silent, allowing the Cloud forces to leave unopposed.

“Orochimaru-sama, should we not pursue?” Uchiha Fugaku could not contain his question. Even a token pursuit at this moment would leave Cloud deeply unsettled.

Orochimaru turned his head, moonlight spilling across his face, making Fugaku’s heart jolt with fright.

Crimson had replaced his usual pallor. Drop by drop, blood seemed to writhe like creeping parasites, eager to escape his pores. Beneath that skin, who knew how many capillaries had burst?

Only now did Fugaku realize that Orochimaru’s injuries were far from healed. In such a state, stirring up further trouble was best avoided.

“Orochimaru, remember my payment—tenfold, and double it!” Manda’s vertical pupils rolled back as he glanced at the figure atop his head. After this shouted demand, he vanished in a puff of white smoke.

“Hmph… That foolish snake. I really ought to ‘reward’ him properly someday,” Orochimaru muttered darkly, adjusting his balance in midair and landing steadily on the ground, his expression turning thunderous. He was far from pleased with Manda’s attitude.

He glanced at Fugaku and instructed, “Gather the men. We’re returning to the fortress.”

“Yes!” Fugaku responded.

…

Time flowed on; the sun rose, and dawn arrived in the blink of an eye.

Compared to the rush to the front lines, the Konoha forces returned at a slower pace. Weariness weighed on them all, and with so many wounded and so few medical-nin, only the gravely injured could be tended to. Orochimaru, whose medical ninjutsu was unrivaled, had expended much of his strength and could not assist.

Thus, it was not until morning that they returned to Konoha’s fortress.

The two Hokage advisors, having sat vigil through the night, hurriedly opened the fortress barrier at news of their return and went out to meet them.

Koharu Utatane cast a glance at Orochimaru and asked, “How did the battle go?”

Though Orochimaru had regained much strength through constant healing on the way back, his face was always unnaturally pale, betraying no color. Koharu could not discern any change in him, and her question was tinged with urgency.

“Is this really the time for questions?” Orochimaru’s expression darkened. He shot her a cold look and walked straight into the fortress.

The Konoha shinobi behind him followed in silence. After a night of brutal fighting and marching back and forth, exhaustion had hollowed them out. Several of the gravely wounded still hovered between life and death; none had any patience for interrogation.

Of course, this was the posture of victors. Had the outcome been reversed, none would have dared act so.

Koharu’s brow creased at this, her aged face drawn with anger. But Homura Mitokado, at her side, saw the truth and quickly pulled her back, turning to issue orders: “Call the medical unit—see to the wounded at once!”

With each command, the fortress’s garrison sprang into action.

Once the seriously wounded had been taken in hand, the Konoha forces dispersed—some found rooms to rest, others waited for the cooks to prepare a meal.

In a shaded room, Orochimaru sat cross-legged on a stone bed, tending to his recovery. At the same time, a part of his mind reached out to communicate with the Lamp God.

“Why didn’t you seize the chance to kill the Raikage?” he asked.

Others might not have understood the Lamp God’s final sword technique, believing that piercing the Raikage’s body was its ultimate power. Orochimaru, however, knew that was merely the basic effect. The energy within the blade had never been fully released, only its sharpness revealed.

“Why should I kill the Raikage?” The Lamp God’s upper body drifted in the air, smiling. “Your goal was to end the war, was it not? If I killed the Raikage, who’s to say Iwagakure wouldn’t seize the opportunity to strike? That could drag the entire shinobi world into a new war.”

“Isn’t this outcome better? The Fourth Raikage’s side and internal organs won’t heal for some time. They’ll likely have to cut away a layer of flesh along the wound before he can slowly recover, and for a long while, he won’t have the strength to wage war.”

“I’m aware of that,” Orochimaru replied, looking up. “But that isn’t your only reason, is it? Killing the Raikage could end the war as well. I suspect you have other motives.”

The Lamp God smiled, not answering directly. “Chakra is a fusion of physical and spiritual energy.”

Orochimaru frowned slightly, unsure why he would bring up something even children knew.

“Almost all living beings possess these two energies—meaning they have the potential to refine chakra,” the Lamp God spread his hands. “Such a universally applicable energy is valuable to a being like me, who traverses countless realms.”

Orochimaru’s eyes narrowed. He understood where the Lamp God was going with this.

“The Fourth Raikage has mastered lightning release to its utmost limits. He’s a rare treasure of the shinobi world—how could I destroy him so lightly?” The Lamp God chuckled, as if the shinobi world itself was his field to harvest. “You lack vision, Orochimaru.”

Orochimaru’s lips twitched with sarcasm. “But, my dear Lamp God, unless I die, you can’t change contractors or copy the Raikage’s abilities. And my wish is immortality.”

“That was before,” the Lamp God replied, shaking his head.