Those wearing human skin were not necessarily human. They might be wolves, tigers, leopards—or perhaps snakes and butterflies.
Orochimaru and Shiraishi Yoshijo were such inhuman creatures wearing human skin. They mingled within human society and understood every one of humanity's vile flaws. Long ago, they had stopped caring about their own human identities.
To them, all living things were food, while they considered themselves creatures standing at the very top of every food chain.
Like certain people who had gained privilege—they strutted when they walked and even thought their shit smelled pleasant.
But in reality, even if you ate delicacies from land and sea and drank mountain spring water, the shit you produced would still be just as foul and hard!
Shiraishi Yoshijo's current state was simply the result of having eaten too many delicacies, leaving him so stuffed that his blood pressure had shot up. Once this guy spent some time eating wild vegetables, he would start missing those delicacies again.
To put it bluntly, a dog could never stop eating shit.
That nonsense about having a heart as still as water was complete bullshit.
If you were alive, you had to find some fun. Who the hell wanted to live every day with a long face like someone at a funeral?
For ordinary people, happiness was simple.
For someone like Shiraishi Yoshijo, who had weathered great storms, trivial matters were hardly worth his attention.
Other than women, the only thing that could probably make him happy was other people's suffering.
Some people had been rotten from the very moment they were born.
That was getting off track.
A ship's horn suddenly sounded from the distant sea.
With a slight extension of his senses, Shiraishi Yoshijo discovered that a large fleet from Peach Country had already surrounded Island Number