"Senior should examine the material first before deciding."
Zenshu reached out and picked up the scroll.
Despite what countless fan fictions might suggest, Hashirama's cells were actually Konoha's most closely guarded secret. Very few people knew the truth. Even if Orochimaru directly stated these were Hashirama's cells, Zenshu's normal reaction should be ignorance of their peculiar properties.
After all, even for the God of Shinobi, cellular structure wasn't necessarily remarkable.
His eyes widened slightly. Even with mental preparation, truly seeing the data on Hashirama's cells still shocked him.
That near-infinite division characteristic was so formidable that despite Hashirama Senju being dead for over thirty years, the cellular vitality remained exuberant.
More importantly, the self-healing ability and massive chakra reserves were a perfect match for his own cells.
The enormous chakra ceiling combined with automatic healing—merged with his current body's cells—could shape reserves and regeneration comparable to a Tailed Beast.
Over the past three years, the damage caused by infinitely extracting chakra had brought Zenshu to the brink of death.
But with Hashirama's cells, he could potentially heal this microscopic damage at the cellular level.
This judgment combined the research materials in his hand with knowledge from the original story.
Hashirama's cells possessed not only limb-level healing but could also cure the blindness of the Mangekyo Sharingan.
And Mangekyo blindness wasn't permanent disappearance of visual prowess, nor was it chakra-related.
It was simply wear and tear. For meticulous deterioration in a body part like the eye, this was likely irreversible, permanent damage at the cellular tissue level.
Since these cells could repair that kind of permanent wear, they could definitely heal the deterioration throughout Zenshu's entire body.
I can't be too optimistic. This is only my judgment—it might not repair internal cellular damage. Moreover, my issue affects every cell in my body, which differs from the localized eye region of the Mangekyo.
"What does Senior think?" Orochimaru's eerie voice cut through his contemplation.
Zenshu looked up, mentally cataloging the various techniques he'd mastered.
What he wanted most wasn't the Living Corpse Reincarnation or the Impure World Reincarnation.
Rather, it was the source of the Cursed Seal—the cells of that child naturally capable of Sage Transformation.
However, that boy was only a year or two older than Naruto. He might have just been born. Even if Zenshu wanted to find him, he couldn't.
"You must provide at least three cell samples. I don't have time to cultivate them incrementally."
"Deal." Orochimaru's face broke into a smile.
After discussing the exchange method and timing, Orochimaru stood to leave.
But Zenshu stopped him.
"Orochimaru."
The snake paused, turning his head slightly to regard Zenshu in the shadows.
"Your research somewhat exceeded my expectations. But there are aspects of my work you completely don't understand either. If you have time, we could exchange ideas."
Orochimaru let out a cold, soft chuckle, then regarded Zenshu with renewed interest.
"Doesn't Senior support Minato? I thought you wouldn't want much contact with me."
"It's merely research exchange. Furthermore, even if I supported you—you can't win against Minato Namikaze."
Zenshu's flat words instantly darkened Orochimaru's expression.
With his personality, losing to Jiraiya already felt stifling. Losing to Jiraiya's disciple—a junior—was infinitely worse.
What stung most was his sensei's choice. It made him feel completely denied. Abandoned.
"You think I'm inferior to that brat." Orochimaru's tone turned eerie.
"Hokage isn't a title for the strong—it's a position. From a political perspective, whether it's your image, your methods, or your presence, you cannot possibly defeat Minato Namikaze."
"Hokage... only fools want that position."
Leaving that single sentence behind, Orochimaru departed.
Watching the retreating figure, Zenshu's cloudy gaze remained indifferent.
He needed the other party's research materials and Hashirama's cells. Orochimaru needed the Incarnation ritual. Those two sentences wouldn't change anything.
Elsewhere, Ryomen Sukuna walked the streets with obvious displeasure as people around him pointed and whispered.
Running children stumbled to a halt upon seeing his four arms and four eyes.
"Mon... monster!"
"Ah... Mommy! I want my mommy!"
Some collapsed to the ground crying.
Others—clearly from ninja families—weren't completely frightened. They pointed at Sukuna, using loud voices to mask their fear.
"Ugly... ugly freak!"
"Four-armed monster, get lost!"
"Four-eyed monster, go away!"
Small pebbles flew toward him. Just as they approached, a sound like a plucked bowstring hummed through the air.
The stones shattered into fragments that scattered across the ground.
Sukuna's eerie eyes fixed on the group of children. Fierce light flashed in his gaze.
This instantly terrified them into collapsing where they stood.
Several adults nearby stepped forward on trembling legs, positioning themselves before the children and shouting, "What are you going to do? You're not allowed to hurt these children!"
"Hypocritical as always. Disgusting scum." Sukuna's voice was ice.
His past self would have killed these brats long ago for daring to attack him.
"Hmph." He snorted coldly, flicked his hand dismissively, and continued walking.
"Good and evil. Good and evil. Good my ass."
"This world is just as terrible."
His palms clenched slightly as he suppressed the urge to kill.
When his self-awareness first emerged, the kind side separated by the Tiger Talisman hadn't completely disappeared. This formed one foundation for the birth of self-will—meaning even Ryomen Sukuna possessed inherent balance.
But the experiences in his implanted memories had shaped him identically to the original Sukuna. The only difference was slight neutralization. A touch more kindness.
Yet if he experienced things that pushed him toward evil—or felt similar experiences—that small kindness would quickly erode.
It absolutely wasn't because his strength was too weak.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He arrived at a dango shop and—amidst the trembling resistance of the shop assistant—packed some dango to go, expression dark throughout.
The killing intent in his eyes grew increasingly vigorous. But as he walked, his expression suddenly shifted.
His pace didn't slow, but his path grew increasingly remote. Soon he arrived on a secluded side road.
Woods climbed the mountain to his left. A grassy field stretched to his right.
"Hey. Don't stick your nose into other people's business."
Sukuna's savage smile spread wide.
Two masked ninjas hidden in distant trees stiffened. They hadn't noticed the drops of blood that had already appeared above their heads.
Buzz.
An invisible Wind Release slash severed the tree's canopy instantly—cutting both masked ninjas in half at the waist.
Poof. Poof.
Their bodies dispersed into smoke.
"Hahaha! Interesting!" Sukuna's savage smile transformed into a booming laugh.
A Wind Release slash spread outward in a ring.
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