The shadow of a black warship had barely poked its head above the sky when, before the Stone Village ninja could react, the moon started causing trouble again.
On the far side of the moon, which should have been utterly silent, the gray-white soil blanketed by thick meteor craters all year round suddenly seemed to come alive, rolling frantically to both sides.
A sour, rotten stench, like something buried in a graveyard for thousands of years, surged out through the splitting cracks in the ground.
This was even more sinister-looking than that pile of rotten wood Demonic Statue of the Outer Path Obito had made earlier.
Yoru stood on the warship's highest deck, holding a leftover skewer stick in his hand.
He casually jammed the stick into a gap in the deck, folded his arms across his chest, and fixed his pitch-black Mangekyō Sharingan on the moon.
From there came a chakra fluctuation that made him intensely uncomfortable, even physically nauseated.
It carried a cold arrogance that treated human lives as worthless, as though the resentment of billions had been forcibly kneaded into a clump of hard, icy shards.
"Looks like our alien relatives aren't planning to let us live in peace."
Yoru sneered.
The muscles on his cool, clean face twitched faintly from the intense sense of danger he had felt just now.
A small patch of dead skin split at the corner of his mouth, leaking tiny beads of blood.
He casually wiped them away with his thumb, then rubbed it on his black windbreaker.
A large oil stain that had not washed out properly was now smeared with blood, making the clothing look filthy.
"Lord Yoru, it looks like something inside the moon is trying to push its way out."
Orochimaru hurried out of the control room