Again, It's Orochimaru

Late at night.

Orochimaru, alone in his laboratory, organized his recent research materials.

"The power that the First Hokage used to pacify the chaotic era in legend—it grows more fascinating the more I think about it."

There was still no progress on the Wood Release Kekkei Genkai, but the failed experiments piqued his intense curiosity: "Even just a few residual cells possess such astonishing vitality. I can hardly imagine just how terrifying that First Hokage truly was."

Setting aside the documents, Orochimaru sat down in his chair, intending to close his eyes and doze for a while.

The moment drowsiness crept in, a sudden buzz echoed in his mind.

Then, that familiar, hazy Black Mist surged toward him like a tide. Having experienced this before, though still somewhat tense, he remained calm.

But this time, it didn't seem to be a 'gathering.' Deep within the roiling Black Mist, a figure suddenly appeared—seemingly forged from coalesced light, with six wings of radiance sprouting from its back, exuding an aura of boundless antiquity. Its eyes, deep as starry voids, silently Gazed at his spiritual body.

Not a gathering?

Orochimaru's heart jolted slightly. He had assumed he'd be dragged into that Church of Bones again, just like last time.

He wasn't a fool. After a brief moment of thought, he roughly guessed the reason: "What an unexpected guest, Father Adam. I never imagined you'd appear before me personally. May I ask what I can do for you?"

"I've come to tell you good news, Orochimaru."

Uchiha Sōgetsu, appearing in dream form through Ritual Magic, spoke in a resonant voice that echoed around them.

"Oh?" Hearing this, Orochimaru's eyes lit up, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.

Sōgetsu didn't beat around the bush and said directly: "A piece of news concerning [longevity]."

Longevity?

Orochimaru's pupils trembled. His throat felt as if something were lodged in it, Wriggling but unable to produce sound.

It wasn't that he doubted Mr. Adam was deceiving him—after all, he had witnessed the man's methods before. It was just that this news was so shocking, he couldn't snap out of it for a long time.

After a moment, Orochimaru realized he was being rude and quickly apologized: "Forgive me, Mr. Adam. I've been researching longevity for a long time with no progress. Hearing this news so suddenly left me stunned. I hope you can understand!"

"Understandable," Sōgetsu said flatly.

"May I ask, Mr. Adam, what price must I pay?"

Orochimaru's eyes flickered. He suppressed the wild joy in his heart, forcing himself to calm down.

Everything has a price—he had understood that truth long ago.

But this was longevity!

The dream he had pursued for so long, now within arm's reach.

No matter the cost, he had to obtain it!

"The price will be told to you later."

Sōgetsu deliberately kept a mysterious card up his sleeve, then said to Orochimaru: "Five kilometers east of Konoha, you'll find the answer you seek. A being that has lived since thousands of years ago, originating from the mythical era. It should... satisfy your requirements, don't you think?"

Indeed, the immortal he spoke of was none other than 'Black Zetsu'.

Hmph, he thought he could just offend him and run?

That bastard Black Zetsu really thought this place was an inn—come and go as he pleased!

He wanted to see just how many lives Black Zetsu had, daring to provoke the god of death himself.

"The mythical era? Lived for thousands of years?"

If Orochimaru had only been slightly shocked before, now a storm was raging in his heart.

The information packed into that single sentence was so vast it nearly crashed his brain.

Did Mr. Adam's words mean the myths circulating in the ninja world might actually be true?

Orochimaru dared not think further. A shiver ran through his body, his thoughts a tangled mess.

"If you don't go soon, he'll escape." Sōgetsu called Orochimaru back to attention, a faint smirk on his face: "After all, your friend doesn't seem all that reliable. He probably can't hold him off for long."

His friend?

Orochimaru blinked, then quickly caught on: "You mean... Jiraiya?"

In all of Konoha, the only people he could call friends were basically two, and the unreliable one... was only Jiraiya.

"Go."

With those words, the radiant, god-like figure faded away along with the receding Black Mist.

Back in reality, Orochimaru's eyes snapped open. Deep within his purple Eyes, a fierce Killing Intent flashed: "A person from the mythical era thousands of years ago? Heh... This is getting more and more interesting. I never imagined the ninja world hid so many secrets I knew nothing about."

At the same moment, Black Zetsu, trapped in the forest outside Konoha, was getting brutally beaten.

If Uchiha Fugaku had only made things a bit troublesome, then the Legendary Sannin Jiraiya made Black Zetsu's life a living hell.

Ninjutsu from every school came at him effortlessly, and with his particular mastery of Earth and Fire Release, he was practically a natural counter to Black Zetsu.

But what truly made Black Zetsu despair was that Jiraiya was a disciple of Mount Myōboku. That damn toad had once deceived the brothers Hagoromo and Hamura, making them betray and seal away their mother, Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.

"No, I can't drag this out any longer." Black Zetsu planned to use the same trick as before—scatter his body and flee: "That damn toad from Mount Myōboku has prophetic abilities. If I stay in contact with Jiraiya too long, there's no guarantee my identity won't be exposed!"

Bang!

Black Zetsu's body burst apart like splashing water, dissolving into countless black droplets that scattered in every direction.

"Trying to flee?" Jiraiya crouched low to the ground, his lion-like mane of hair standing on end. "Ninjutsu: Needle Jizo!"

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

His soft hair instantly hardened into steel needles, howling like a storm as they shot toward the dispersed droplets.

Many black droplets were pierced through, letting out shrill screams, but a small number still managed to escape.

"A jutsu I've never seen before." Seeing that pursuit was futile, Jiraiya stopped and muttered to himself with a frown, "There's something off about that guy—not just his jutsu, but his body structure too. I'll have to find time to visit Mount Myōboku and ask the Great Toad Sage."

To escape with his life, Black Zetsu had paid a heavy price.

Though in essence, he wasn't a living creature—just a mass of Yin Release Chakra separated from Kaguya Ōtsutsuki's body.

But tonight had been a cascade of mishaps, one surprise after another, costing Black Zetsu dearly. He had lost a full two-thirds of his 'volume,' and it would take at least half a year to recover fully.

"Damn you, Uchiha Sōgetsu. Remember this!"

Black Zetsu ground his teeth. All his suffering was entirely that Uchiha brat's fault. "Heh heh, regret it, Uchiha Sōgetsu. Once I get back, I'll make you taste the most painful things in this world. I'll take everything from you and leave you to suffer!"

Hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss—

Suddenly, the grass beside him rustled, and several snakes slithered out.

The venomous serpents seemed almost sentient, raising their upper bodies, fixing him with crimson vertical pupils, flicking their tongues, and letting out chilling sounds.

"Just a few beasts, and you dare startle me!" Black Zetsu flinched, but once he saw they were only snakes, his embarrassment turned to fury. He waved a hand and tore them to shreds.

But then, a flicker of unease struck him. "Why... are there snakes here?"

"Heh heh heh heh."

A sinister laugh echoed, and Black Zetsu's blood ran cold.

No... It couldn't be?

He wasn't that unlucky, was he?

Turning his stiff neck, Black Zetsu followed the sound to its source. There, beneath the pale moonlight, a man in a white kimono with long black hair, narrow eyes, and a cold, viper-like beauty walked toward him, hands tucked into his chest, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

Damn. It was Orochimaru.

Black Zetsu felt he must have offended the god of luck.

Otherwise, how could he possibly have run into two of the Legendary Sannin in a single day?

December 8th, Sunny

Cold, and late. Lost twenty on scratch-offs yesterday. Hope I win today. Asked my editor: "Do you think I can make it big?" Reply: "Just write your words, stop dreaming."