Orochimaru held a kunai in his right hand. Bathed in the clear moonlight, he walked with steady, unhurried steps toward the main hall.
Turning the corner, he ran directly into a bandit coming out to relieve himself. The thin man stared at Orochimaru's frail, small figure, then pulled the katana from his waist. Grinning menacingly, he stepped forward: "Where did this brat come from? Heh heh, perfect for me to practice my swordsmanship on!"
When the bandit reached within two steps, Orochimaru moved. He instantly darted forward with a speed the bandit couldn't react to. In the flash of an eye, the sharp kunai in his right hand slashed across the bandit's neck as he brushed past.
"Pscht—"
Under the silver-white moonlight, a fountain of scarlet blood, accompanied by a weak, gurgling sound, sprayed from the bandit's carotid artery. The bandit desperately clutched the bloody wound on his neck, struggling to turn around and look at Orochimaru's young figure with terror. "Thud—" With a dull sound, he collapsed to the ground, never to rise again.
A thread of fresh blood dripped from the kunai in Orochimaru's hand. The demonic look in his dark-golden eyes was unchanged, but the sinister smile on his lips grew more tempting. He quietly counted, "The first!"
The immense, deathly cold, and blood-soaked killing intent contained within his small body seemed to have been triggered after this first kill, intensifying dramatically as if it were solidifying. It surged out of Orochimaru like a volcanic eruption, causing a sudden, fierce cold wind.
Feeling the piercing killing intent surrounding him, Orochimaru continued toward the main hall.
The moment he stepped into the hall, the chilling, pervasive killing aura caused the four bandits lounging lazily against the corridor pillars to jolt violently. The intense killing intent gave them a powerful premonition of instant death. Their hands, resting on the katanas at their waists, froze, daring not to move.
Orochimaru didn't leave them in suspense for long. Four shuriken immediately found their marks, embedding themselves in the back of their heads.
"Thwack, thwack—"
The sharp, cross-shaped shuriken pierced deep into the bandits' skulls. White brain matter mixed with bright red blood flowed out. The four men met their end without even seeing their enemy.
Five, Orochimaru tallied silently.
A burly bandit walked in from the main hall's entrance, about ten meters away from Orochimaru. Orochimaru recognized him instantly: he was one of the minor chiefs he'd observed over the past two days.
The little chief was quick-witted. Seeing the corpses strewn across the floor and the blood dripping from Orochimaru's kunai, he immediately screamed, "Enemies, ah—"
Before he could finish the word, Orochimaru's figure, cloaked in frantic killing intent and gripping the kunai, had already rammed into his throat, silencing the remaining word.
"Pscht—"
Six. Surging blood splashed onto Orochimaru, but he was unfazed. He held the still-dying petty chief with one hand and looked outward.
"Quick, quick, quick! Someone's attacking the fort!"
"Which bastard dared to attack us, and where is he?"
The open ground was in an uproar. The central bonfire had been lit, its roaring flames illuminating the surroundings. Scores of fiercely scowling, raggedly dressed bandits rushed out of the houses, snatching up their weapons.
Hidden in the trees outside, Jiraiya and Tsunade heard the clamor and knew Orochimaru had been discovered. Since the gate hadn't been opened yet, they could only fret like ants in a hot pan.
One by one, the hidden sentries emerged from their concealed positions and ran toward the fort. Seeing these men, Jiraiya and Tsunade instantly suppressed their fear of killing. They charged forward.
On a large tree on the other side of the fort, a tall figure witnessed the scene and gave a faint nod before shifting his gaze back to the noisy fort.
Orochimaru watched the chaotic crowd, making no move to stop them as they gathered. The sinister smile on his lips held a slight contempt.
After about a minute, the disorganized bandits finally focused their attention on Orochimaru, who stood in the main hall entrance, holding the corpse of the minor chief.
"Thump, thump, thump—"
Orochimaru tossed the chief's corpse down to roll to the bandits' feet. A hurricane-like wave of killing intent swept across the field. To the bandits' eyes, the almost materialized killing aura seemed to form a ferocious, roaring giant serpent behind Orochimaru, charging straight at them.
The terrified bandits collectively took a step back, their faces reflecting disbelief.
A refreshing night breeze blew through, and the scene—a child confronting a horde of vicious bandits—settled into an eerie silence.
Orochimaru, bathed in the moonlight, his eyes reflecting the roaring flames of the bonfire, took a deep breath. The gradually thickening smell of blood rushed into his nostrils. The contemptuous smile on his face revealed a long-suppressed excitement and craving. He slowly extended his tongue to lick the splash of blood on his lips, and his young, gentle voice conveyed a lunatic's icy killing intent: "Truly an intoxicating scent! Heh heh, are you ready? Then, I'm starting!"
A faint, profound state of rapture and madness began to permeate Orochimaru's dark-golden snake eyes.
The bandits exchanged glances. The advantage of sheer numbers gradually overcame their internal fear. With bloodshot eyes, they rushed toward Orochimaru hysterically: "Kill him!"
"Click, thud—"
Orochimaru's fingers released the clasps on his weighted clothing. The twenty pounds of weights dropped to the ground with a sharp sound. His body transformed into a small black shadow and darted into the bandit crowd.
Two sharp kunai appeared in Orochimaru's hands. Plunging into the mob, he moved like a free-swimming black fish, rapidly "gliding" through the crowd. The two kunai consistently appeared at the throats of the bandits, slicing across easily, harvesting their lives before they could even react.
"Shh, shh, shh—"
The black shadow flashed past. Five jets of blood sprayed out. Five bandits clutched their throats, fearfully looking at each other before collapsing.
Ten!
He stomped the ground, ducked low, and held his hands up, instantly spinning around with the kunai. The center of the crowd blossomed like a death lotus of black and scarlet.
"Pscht—"
"Aah! Aah!"
What looked like a fountain of blood erupted. A circle of seven figures howled and fell. Long cuts, dozens of centimeters in length, were slashed across their chests.
Seventeen!
The sinister smile on Orochimaru's lips grew wider. He tossed the kunai into the air, simultaneously throwing a circle of shuriken. His hands moved like dancing butterflies, completing a series of Jutsu seals in an instant.
Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!
Dozens of divided shuriken created an even larger death lotus.
"Aah! Aah!"
The screams across the ground abruptly ceased. Each fallen man had exactly three shuriken lodged in his throat, heart, and forehead.
Thirty!
He caught the falling kunai. His body turning into a black shadow, Orochimaru plunged into the crowd again. Direct stabs, straight slashes, horizontal cuts, diagonal swipes... bringing forth circle after circle of bloody carnage.
Thirty-one, thirty-five, thirty-seven...
"Pscht, pscht—"
Two now-dulled kunai plunged into the hearts of two bandits.
Fifty!!!
The crowd suddenly parted. The fort's main gate was right ahead.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed. A new technique, which he had recently developed after gaining the Cursed Seal and strengthening his body, was unleashed.
Accelerating with quick, small steps, the light blue chakra within him surged wildly into his right hand, concentrating on his fist through Orochimaru's superb chakra control technique.
His dark-golden pupils filled with pure madness. He launched his right fist at the five-meter-high fort gate with a piercing, high-pitched screech of displaced air.
Taijutsu: Monstrous Strength Fist!
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