Chapter 351: Orochimaru's Carnival
Uchiha Akira closed his eyes, letting his consciousness expand to sense the entirety of the isolated dimension. Ever since he had forcibly suppressed the souls of the three Hokage, the growth rate of this private world had entered a completely new stage.
His thoughts stirred. A massive flow of spatial data instantly integrated and calculated within his mind. The daily expansion radius now steadily exceeded eleven hundred meters. This rapid territorial growth left Akira quite satisfied.
His perception continued to sweep outward, gliding over vast, rolling plains and newly formed mountain ridges, before finally settling on the central hub of the space.
There, a bustling town had already risen from the previously barren earth. Neatly planned cobblestone streets intersected with well-arranged wooden houses, and further out, endless tracts of cultivated farmland stretched toward the horizon. Over the past month, the population had swelled to over a thousand permanent residents. The influx of people had injected this nascent, artificial world with its most precious resource: genuine, breathing vitality.
Akira's gaze finally locked onto a temporarily erected command post near the town square.
A familiar, elegant figure stood over a massive drafting table, holding a sprawling master blueprint. Kurenai Yuhi was earnestly directing several Nara clan shinobi, her crimson eyes focused and sharp. As the current Jinchuriki of the Three-Tails, Kurenai had entered Tianyu Space as a permanent resident. Recognizing her careful nature, Akira had personally appointed her as one of the chief administrators of this growing domain.
As if sensing the familiar weight of his gaze, Kurenai turned her head. Spotting Akira standing a short distance away, the strict, commanding aura of a manager melted away, replaced instantly by a captivating, brilliant smile.
She whispered a few final instructions to the Nara planners, then her figure blurred. The Body Flicker Technique carried her across the distance, materializing her directly beside him.
"Akira, you're here." Kurenai's voice carried a soft, intimate tenderness that she reserved exclusively for him.
"You've worked hard," Akira said, his cold demeanor softening. He reached out, naturally pulling her slender frame into his embrace.
"It's nothing," Kurenai murmured, leaning her cheek against his chest, drinking in the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. "The Nara clan members are incredibly capable. They've planned every sector carefully. We've just completed the first phase of the water conservancy facilities, and basic food self-sufficiency has been achieved." She looked up, her eyes shining with quiet pride. "Everyone is full of motivation for the future."
Akira nodded, his hand gently stroking her dark hair. "This is just the beginning."
He slowly released her, shifting his attention toward the expansive training grounds situated on the far outskirts of the settlement.
Violent tremors shook the earth. Two figures were locked in an intense, high-speed sparring match.
Gaara stood with his arms crossed, his face a mask of concentration as he manipulated a towering wave of golden sand. The heavy granules surged into the sky, coalescing into a massive, crushing hand that slammed down viciously toward his opponent.
"Rasengan!"
Naruto roared, his blonde hair whipping wildly in the wind. A sphere of violently rotating blue chakra howled in his right hand. Instead of dodging, he lunged forward, fearlessly driving the spiraling sphere directly into the descending golden palm.
The Rasengan collided with the compressed sand. A deafening roar erupted across the training field, kicking up a massive shockwave of dust and chakra that flattened the surrounding grass.
A glint of approval flashed in Akira's dark eyes. During this period, Naruto's relentless sparring sessions with Gaara had yielded excellent results. The pressure they applied to one another was forcing both young shinobi to grow at an astonishing, terrifying speed.
Kurenai watched the settling dust of the battlefield, a fond smile gracing her lips. "Perhaps it won't be long before they become your true right-hand men."
Akira merely nodded, his gaze calculating the great potential of his growing empire.
...
Meanwhile, in the darkest corners of the shinobi world.
Deep underground, hidden far from the sunlight, lay a secret laboratory. The air was thick, damp, and suffocating, reeking of formaldehyde, rusted iron, and rotting flesh. Countless giant glass cultivation cylinders stood in eerie, glowing rows, filled with bubbling green fluid that preserved various horrifying, mutilated experimental subjects.
Without warning, the space near the entrance violently twisted. A spiraling spatial vortex tore open the gloom.
Obito Uchiha, his face hidden behind an orange, spiraling mask, stepped out from the Kamui dimension. He glanced around the grotesque facility, his visible eye narrowing in disgust.
"Orochimaru. You certainly know how to scurry into the deepest holes," Obito's voice echoed, laced with a cold, imperceptible annoyance. "It took a considerable amount of effort to track down this new rat's nest of yours."
"Hehehehehe..."
A hoarse, wet chuckle slithered out from the pitch-black shadows behind the cultivation tanks. Orochimaru, moving with the boneless, fluid grace of a viper, slowly emerged into the dim light. His pale skin looked almost translucent in the sickly green glow of the laboratory.
"I merely relocated to a more... inconspicuous venue. After all, Konoha's Fifth Hokage has been turning the entire ninja world upside down recently," Orochimaru replied, his long tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. He carefully avoided any mention of his previous, humiliating failure—the disastrous attempt to use the Impure World Reincarnation on the three Hokage, only to be effortlessly countered and crushed by the First Hokage's overwhelming power. He had no intention of exposing that particular weakness to his nominal collaborator.
"But enough about me, Obito-kun." Orochimaru's golden, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto the masked man. "How did your end of the arrangement go?"
Obito did not waste breath on pleasantries. He extended his right hand. A massive, heavy sealing scroll materialized out of thin air. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it forward.
The heavy scroll hit the stone floor with a dull thud, kicking up a small cloud of stagnant dust.
"What you requested is all in there," Obito stated, his tone freezing the ambient air.
He had not been idle while Akira consolidated his internal power and imposed his iron will upon the ninja world. Obito had dispatched legions of White Zetsu clones, infiltrating almost every hidden corner, graveyard, and sacred tomb across the elemental nations. They had acted as the ultimate grave robbers, desecrating the resting places of legendary powerhouses who had left glorious, blood-soaked reputations in history.
A feverish, greedy light ignited in Orochimaru's serpentine eyes. He practically glided forward, dropping to his knees beside the scroll. His pale fingers moved in a blur, releasing the complex sealing formula.
White smoke puffed outward. Dozens of carefully labeled glass vials and preserved tissue samples clattered onto the stone floor.
Orochimaru's breathing hitched. His chest heaved as he stared at the morbid treasure trove.
"This... This is... the cell tissue of the Third Raikage!" Orochimaru gasped, his voice trembling with dark ecstasy. His frantic gaze darted to the next vial. "And the Second Tsuchikage, Mu!"
He scrambled slightly, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold glass. "And this... the Second Mizukage's... Hehehehe..."
Orochimaru caressed each genetic sample with the reverent, obsessive touch of a master sculptor admiring flawless marble.
"Pakura of the Scorch Release from Sunagakure..." he whispered, his eyes wide. "The legendary Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist... Juzo Biwa... Fuguki Suikazan..."
"Hehe... Hehehehehe!"
Orochimaru threw his head back, letting out a wild, uncontrollable cackle that bounced off the damp stone walls and vibrated against the glass tanks.
"It is perfect! Truly, absolutely perfect!" Orochimaru hissed, his eyes burning with mad ambition. "It is a pleasure doing business with you, Obito-kun. With these sacrifices, my army of the dead will be unprecedentedly powerful!"
Obito watched the Sannin's manic display with absolute, chilling indifference. "What do you plan to do next?"
Orochimaru licked his lips again, the madness still dancing in his golden eyes. "I should be asking you that."
From beneath the spiraling mask, Obito's voice emerged like grinding ice. "It is very simple."
"First, you will prepare this army of the dead. Make them ready for war." Obito began to pace slowly across the damp floor, his single visible Sharingan glowing ominously in the dark. "Uchiha Akira's brutal annexation of Sunagakure and Kirigakure has already left the remaining great nations feeling as though they are sitting on a bed of poisoned needles. Now, we merely need to add a little more fuel to the fire. We will force their simmering paranoia to completely erupt."
Obito stopped, looking back at the pale scientist. "What we need to do is manipulate Kumogakure and Iwagakure into leading a desperate coalition of the smaller hidden villages. We will push them to launch a joint, all-out assault on Konoha."
"And then," Obito's hands clenched into fists, "at the most crucial, bloodiest moment of their war, we will step in to 'help' them. We will crush Konoha into dust in one fell swoop."
Listening to the sheer scale of Obito's malice, the sinister smile on Orochimaru's face stretched even wider, revealing his sharp canines. "Then, it is settled."
Obito nodded once. The space around his right eye began to slowly distort, the Kamui vortex preparing to swallow him whole and carry him away.
"Wait a moment."
Orochimaru's sudden voice halted the spatial jutsu.
"I am exceedingly satisfied with this gift," Orochimaru said, his tone dropping into a dangerous, silken purr. "As a return courtesy, you might be interested in this."
Reaching into the deep folds of his robes, Orochimaru extracted a much smaller, delicate scroll and tossed it through the air.
Obito instinctively reached out and caught it. He stared at the parchment. "What is this?"
"Open it, and you will know." Orochimaru smiled meaningfully, his eyes glinting with a toxic secret. "It is something belonging to an 'old acquaintance' of yours."
Frowning beneath his mask, Obito slowly unfolded the small scroll.
The moment his single eye registered the contents, his pupil sharply contracted to the size of a pinprick.
Sealed within the center of the parchment was a minuscule, perfectly preserved portion of cell tissue. And right next to that tissue, written in neat, clinical ink, was a single name.
Rin Nohara.
"You..." Obito's voice cracked. For the first time in years, his tone betrayed a violent, intense emotional fluctuation. His fingers gripped the edges of the scroll so tightly the paper threatened to tear.
Orochimaru drank in the sight of the masked mastermind losing his composure, the smile on his pale face growing impossibly wide.
"I secretly kept a little sample back then," Orochimaru whispered, his voice echoing like the hiss of a demon in the dark. "Though it is not much, it should be more than enough to do something quite miraculous."
He took a slow step forward, his golden eyes locking onto Obito's trembling form.
"For example..."
Orochimaru's smile turned razor-sharp.
"To let her... return to this world and see you."
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