At the edge of the bombed-out ruins in the Land of Fire, the rain had yet to stop.
Cold wind mixed with rain, whipping the black ash and minced flesh across the ground into spirals. The air reeked of sour, moldy blood.
A pile of mutated cultivation tanks blasted apart by artillery lay scattered in the mud pits, their glass shards still smeared with yellow-green nutrient fluid.
The liquid hissed and bubbled in the rainwater, corroding even the nearby dead grass roots into a puddle of black water.
Yoru stepped over the pile of glass shards, the soles of his leather shoes making a piercing crunching sound.
He pulled out the half-smoked cigarette from earlier and casually held it between his lips.
Without even using a lighter, he lit it with a stray spark of Amaterasu's black flames leaking from the corner of his eye.
Gray-white smoke rings were torn apart by the cold rain. He took a deep drag, suppressing that moldy stench.
"Those brainless bioweapon trash sure knew how to make trouble."
Yoru kicked aside a chunk of rotten flesh that was half-human, half-tree root, frowning in disgust.
"Orochimaru, go back and treat every last one of these contamination sources with high-frequency microwaves. Don't leave even a speck behind."
"If this crap sprouts any more freaks on my turf, I'll stuff you into a cultivation tank and pickle you in liquor."
"Rest assured, Lord Yoru."
Orochimaru stood several meters away. His white lab coat was splattered with black blood, yet he looked completely unfazed as he licked the slime-covered back of his hand with his long tongue.
"We've already obtained the gene sequences of these mutants. That kid Obito was merely copying others badly. Everything he made was unstable, inferior garbage."
A fanatical green light gleamed in his