"Who goes there?" Every hair on his body stood on end as Orochimaru spoke in his distinctive hoarse voice.
Yet before the Black-Robed Man could speak, Orochimaru had already seen his face and cried out in shock, "Senior, how could it be you?"
The one standing before him was none other than Shin, who had left through the village gates.
He usually never missed Konoha's fortieth anniversary celebration. On ordinary New Years, he might stay on the moon or at the Akatsuki base to spend it with some of his women, but every major New Year that came once a decade, he always came to Konoha.
At tonight's anniversary festival, he had successfully slipped in disguised as an ordinary Konoha Jonin, clinking cups with the Clan Heads of the major families.
With his current strength, if he truly wished to infiltrate, no one would notice anything amiss even face-to-face.
Afterward, he had traded a few jabs with Hiruzen Sarutobi by the stone monument at the front of the village. The result had been that Hiruzen Sarutobi was left deeply suspicious, nearly scared to death.
He had simply been killing time. He had originally intended to leave, but while flying through the air, he spotted Orochimaru skulking about. Curious, he had followed him directly.
Orochimaru was filled with uncertainty. He did not know Shin's identity, but his impression of him was incomparably deep.
Their two meetings more than ten years ago had left him with unforgettable impressions for life. That abyss-like, terrifying depth was something he had never felt from anyone else since.
Compared to more than ten years ago, Shin had not changed at all. He still looked to be in his twenties, even appearing more vigorous than before. His aura was as still as an ancient well; if not