Even if he didn't really want to admit it, Orochimaru had to concede that Yorin was right.
Instead of pouring everything into one or two gigantic "super fortresses" that could be shot down, it was better to build a large number of smaller airships. A few hundred or a few thousand linked together in formation could still be overwhelming—maybe even more overwhelming.
But Orochimaru still wasn't satisfied.
"But… a super fortress…"
Yorin almost rolled his eyes.
We're already in another world and you're still obsessed with doomsday 'ultimate weapons'? That little-country 'decisive battle super-weapon' brainrot really follows you everywhere, huh?
Yorin sighed and explained anyway.
"'Giant' and 'super' are concepts that keep changing as production capacity and technology advance," he said. "Back then, people thought Kage-level was the ceiling. They thought someone like Hanzō was the peak."
"But now 'beyond-Kage' has become the new common sense. Rinyo and I have become everyone's benchmark."
"And as time goes on, more beyond-Kage fighters will appear. And after that, there'll be an even higher tier—call it 'Six Paths-class' or whatever."
Orochimaru blinked, genuinely thrown off.
"…I don't really understand what you're getting at."
Yorin continued, "I'm saying this: if our productive capacity suddenly increased by a thousandfold, then a 'super fortress' becomes a mass-produced standard weapon, not a one-shot 'final trump card.'"
"So the real issue isn't our direction—it's that our industrial base isn't strong enough yet."
"Instead of obsessing over whether it's 'super fortress' or 'lots of airships,' you should focus on unlocking productivity and pushing the whole world forward. When the foundation is there, you can manufacture super fortresses like they're nothing."
"And when that day comes, you won't even care about super fortresses anymore. You'll be thinking bigger—mass-produced space warships, maybe."
That pitch actually worked. Orochimaru's expression turned distant and dreamy, and he finally stopped arguing about "super fortress versus airships."
This round ended with Yorin's victory.
"Alright, then it's settled," Yorin said with satisfaction. "Good luck, Orochimaru. And by the way—clients have been pestering me about your 'fourth-generation Ryūchi Cave tonic'…"
Orochimaru's face instantly changed.
He was one of the world's foremost scientists, and yet the first thing the public associated him with was that. It was basically his taboo topic. His assistants all knew: mention it and you're dead.
Of course, Yorin wasn't "just anyone." He was Orochimaru's patron—and more importantly, Yorin was vastly stronger than him.
So Orochimaru could only swallow his irritation.
Yorin teased him a little more, then—because he still needed Orochimaru's value—circled back to smooth things over. They ended up talking for a long time about the future: technology, development paths, even parenting and raising kids.
After he'd successfully "talked him down," Yorin felt satisfied and prepared to leave.
But before he did, Orochimaru brought up something else.
"If you're talking about unlocking productivity," Orochimaru said, "then I have to ask… when are we going to eliminate them?"
Yorin knew exactly who he meant: the nobles and daimyo—wipe them out, tear down the old order, and create a new system that could truly support a higher level of production.
Yorin looked thoughtful.
He understood: as the Ninshū grew stronger, as its cadre and manpower increased, its appetite would also grow.
From a noble angle, you could call it the desire to build a new world.
From a darker angle, you could call it raw hunger for power.
A sharp weapon makes people want to swing it. The stronger you become, the harder it gets to suppress that urge.
A double-edged sword.
But Yorin believed he could handle it.
"That day will come," Yorin told him.
He hadn't expected Orochimaru to be that radical—or maybe Orochimaru had been convinced by Yorin's ideology and shifted his stance because of it.
Was that "backfiring"?
No. Having more people who understood him—who could move in step with him—was only a good thing.
"In fact, I do have a plan," Yorin said. "You're right: our current stage is too small. We have too many capable people and nowhere to place them all. So yes—we do need to expand."
"But it's not the right time to openly challenge the Five Great Nations."
Orochimaru tilted his head. "Then we pick off just one? Or use genjutsu and take control like before?"
"Genjutsu control can work," Yorin said. "But the daimyo and nobles aren't idiots. If a major country suddenly changes overnight, they'll know it was us."
"And even if they can't fight us directly, they still have enough authority to make the situation ugly. If they believe they're doomed, they'll burn everything on the way out—grain stores, roads, power systems, water infrastructure—anything critical. They'll create a massive humanitarian disaster."
"And right now, our administrative capacity isn't ready to govern the whole world. If we seize just one major country prematurely, the risk of chaos skyrockets."
Orochimaru looked unimpressed. He didn't care about "hostages" or "soft restraints." To him, that kind of leverage was meaningless.
But Yorin wasn't like that.
He could be ruthless when necessary. But if it wasn't necessary, he wanted this world to be gentler—then gentler still.
"Even if that's true," Orochimaru said, "if we avoid the Five Great Nations entirely, can small countries really satisfy our needs?"
Yorin nodded.
"Yes. They can."
The shinobi world was enormous—this was a whole planet, after all.
Beyond the main continent of the Five Great Nations, there were countless islands overseas. Many were large enough to be real countries.
In a sense, the Land of Water itself was the biggest island nation, surrounded by countless smaller ones. That was why it had the strongest navy—and later, it would even develop bizarre things like chakra-powered aircraft carriers.
Even so, the Land of Water didn't fully control every island. Plenty of island nations and minor villages existed out there—places like the Land of the Rainbow, the Land of the Sea, and others.
They weren't small in area. Their populations weren't tiny. But their militaries were weak, and many functioned like tributaries—paying for protection.
"Our targets are those island chains," Yorin said.
"The mainland powers don't value them. Many people don't even know they exist. But add them all up, and the total territory can reach 'great nation' scale."
"If we annex and stabilize those islands, we'll have the strength of a real state. The world order shifts from five powers to six."
"Then, after we've built up enough governance capacity—enough cadres and administrators—we swallow the Land of Water. Two major regions under one banner."
That was the kind of roadmap that satisfied Orochimaru—and also the "hardline pragmatists" inside the Ninshū.
Not the suicidal kind of "declare war on everyone at once," but a step-by-step conquest: take a piece, stabilize it, then expand again.
They reached an agreement.
And the expedition could begin.