"Heh heh..." A low chuckle rose from Kusa Ninja Jia's throat—Orochimaru's throat—and as it rolled out,
it carried a rasp like a snake flicking its tongue, a little more authentic than the cold, sinister tone he had imitated earlier—
The real Orochimaru's presence seeped through this replica's throat, until even the air seemed wrapped in a clammy chill.
"Qingwu..." He drew out the name, the corners of his eyes tilting upward as serpentine slits flickered in his pupils. "How would you like us to perform this little play?"
His fingertips curled lightly against the ground, as if testing the soil's temperature or holding something back. His tone, however, held an ingratiating eagerness for praise, wrapped in stubborn malice. "After all, you tacitly allowed us to build the stage. We ought to know your preferences."
Is he probing my attitude toward Konoha?!
Qingwu remained leaning against the tree. Watching him half-prostrate on the ground yet still trying to pose as the one in control, he suddenly chuckled.
The leaves on his shoulders trembled with his laughter, and the nonchalance in his eyes deepened. "Do whatever you like."
"Just make it Heat."
He paused and pointed into the distance, where the faint shouts of battling examinees could still be heard. "Don't let Konoha's ninja guards or some clueless faction wipe you out in a few moves. That would be no fun at all."
"Heat, hmm?! I understand..." Kusa Ninja Jia's eyes lit up, as though Orochimaru had received the instruction he wanted most. Apparently, Hyuga Seigo had some friction with Konoha as well.
He slowly pushed his upper body off the ground, his left hand braced against the soil. His right hand rose unhurriedly as he extended his unusually long tongue and licked his lips, again and again. When its tip swept