Ōnoki, the Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, stared at the report submitted before him. A suppressed fury radiated from his short frame as he slammed the desk.
"Useless! All of you are useless!" he roared.
"Are you telling me that the ninja we sacrificed brought back nothing but a pile of worthless seawater and rotten blood?!"
This synchronized 'research failure' across all major villages did not cause anyone to give up.
On the contrary—it ignited even stronger reactions and a far deeper obsession.
After repeated internal verification, and even covert "information exchanges" through secret channels between villages, a consensus gradually formed among the high-level leadership of the shinobi world:
The blood was missing something.
Something absolutely crucial.
Something unique.
It was precisely this unknown element—undetectable by current technology—that granted the serpent monsters their utterly incomprehensible abilities.
What they had brought back… was nothing more than residue, stripped of its essence.
That realization made every informed party's breathing quicken.
Some shinobi—arrogant by nature and driven by ambition—couldn't help voicing bold claims:
"If we could capture one alive… find that 'special element'… crack its secret…"
"Then dominating the shinobi world wouldn't be impossible."
The words sounded outrageous.
Yet after witnessing the serpent monsters' near rule-defying defenses—and imagining the even greater power hinted at behind the Land of Iron Samurai Elite Guard—no one dismissed it as empty bravado.
Ruling the shinobi world might be far off, but even grasping a fraction of that power could trigger a qualitative leap in a village's strength and secure absolute initiative in the future balance of power.
Orochimaru's Underground Laboratory
In a dark, damp underground base, the only sounds were the low hum of machinery and the soft gurgling of liquid within test tubes.
Orochimaru set down the final analysis report.
There was no disappointment in his golden, snake-like eyes—
only feverish excitement.
His long tongue slid out, habitually licking across his cheek and leaving behind a slick trace, as he murmured with quiet delight:
"Interesting… truly interesting…"
He had worked without sleep for days, deploying every advanced technique and forbidden method he knew.
The conclusion he reached was identical to that of his former Konoha classmate, Tsunade—
From a purely material perspective, the serpent-monster blood was despairingly ordinary, indistinguishable from that of any known sea snake.
And that was precisely what thrilled him.
"Hehehe…" Orochimaru chuckled softly, his voice hoarse and magnetic.
"Ordinary blood… yet possessing defenses that transcend common sense…"
"This is no coincidence. The material itself is flawless. Which means only one thing—
my methods aren't sufficient. My understanding still has blind spots."
He never doubted the sample.
If something couldn't be explained, then the fault lay not in the specimen—but in the limits of current knowledge.
To Orochimaru, phenomena beyond the reach of existing science were the most intoxicating poison imaginable.
He gazed at the now-depleted blood samples on the lab table. A flicker of regret passed through his eyes—but it was quickly replaced by eager anticipation.
"A pity… that I wasn't there in person," he mused, his pupils narrowing as he imagined the scene on Rogue Island.
"I'd very much like to personally experience these adorable little creatures… that ability to ignore ninjutsu and disperse taijutsu…"
"If I could capture one alive… conduct live experimentation…"
His breathing quickened unconsciously.
Serpent monsters.
Just the name made his heart race.
"Snake… monsters…" Orochimaru savored the words, his lips curling into a twisted, delighted smile.
"Hehehe… they suit me perfectly. I find myself liking them more and more."
The exhaustion of samples did not halt his research.
Instead, it fully ignited the twin flames burning within him—curiosity and possessiveness.
A succession of earth-shattering events had smashed the shinobi world's structure and understanding like repeated hammer blows.
Now, whether major villages or minor ones, the entire shinobi world had fallen into a strange kind of quiet.
Border skirmishes, resource conflicts, espionage—once commonplace—had all noticeably decreased.
Even the underground bounty exchanges and missing-nin activity had grown subdued.
In teahouses and taverns, ninja no longer discussed mission pay or newly developed jutsu.
Instead, voices were lowered as they exchanged rumors about the Heavenly Screen, divine techniques, serpent monsters, and the mysterious Land of Iron Samurai Elite Guard.
"Did you hear? Another Kumogakure deep-sea investigation team went missing…"
"Konoha's still secretly researching the serpent-monster blood, but supposedly they've made zero progress."
"This world's getting harder to understand… Do you think the ninjutsu we learned still matters?"
"Who knows… Every time I go on a mission now, I get chills down my spine. Who knows what kind of monster might show up next."
An unprecedented sense of confusion and looming crisis settled over every shinobi's heart.
The powers they once relied upon—the rules they believed in—now looked fragile and laughable before higher-order existences.
As one small village leader lamented during an internal meeting:
"The waters of the shinobi world run far too deep…"
"We once thought Kage-level was the peak. Now look—there are beings that can destroy the world, ones that can shatter mountains with a punch, monsters that ignore ninjutsu altogether…"
"And then there are those from the sky… who treat human lives like dirt."
"This situation is beyond us. We can't control it."
"Better to… keep our heads down."
Those words echoed the thoughts of countless others.
Before power that could not be understood, blind expansion and conflict were meaningless—
and might even invite annihilation.
Thus, an unspoken strategy of lying low became the norm.
After a brief panic, the entire shinobi world sheathed its claws, bared no fangs, and focused instead on licking its wounds, gathering strength, and gazing nervously toward the sky.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the Heavenly Screen to light up again.
Waiting for the next piece of cosmic "foreshadowing" to guide them—
—or to reveal an even more shocking truth.
Beneath this seemingly calm surface, currents more violent than ever before were surging.
Everyone understood:
This silence was not peace—
it was preparation.
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