Inside Jigen's mind, Ōtsutsuki Isshiki was still struggling desperately.
But the Kusanagi Swords wrapped in purple lightning were like the Death God's scythes, forcibly hacking away what little defense that battered body had left.
Jigen's well-maintained face was now swollen like a rotten peach.
The bloody foam dribbling from the corner of his mouth was even mixed with several shattered tooth roots.
Reeking and slimy.
The sensation was more disgusting than falling into a sewer.
"Sasuke, quit dragging your feet."
Yoru leaned lazily against a stone pillar in the temple, somehow pulling out another piece of gum.
With a casual flick, he sent the wrapper spinning onto Jigen's mud-covered face.
The coldness in Yoru's eyes, the kind reserved for the dead, made the hall feel even colder.
"Orochimaru's sampler still isn't ready? If we don't get that old bastard's brain out soon, the fermented stench is going to make this entire temple uninhabitable."
Orochimaru's chilly laughter echoed from the corner, carrying a dampness that made one's spine crawl.
At that moment, he was inserting his withered, finely scaled claws into the ear canal of the not-yet-dead Jigen.
"Lord Yoru, don't rush."
"The connection between this Karma imprint and the brain is too complicated. If my hand slips and erases the soul data inside, we'll be blind for real."
As Orochimaru spoke, he picked his nose and casually flicked a lump of black gunk onto the floor.
The naturalness of the gesture made one want to punch him.
On Jigen's swollen pig-like face, his two eyeballs bulged wildly outward.
He felt a piercing pain drilling through his eardrums and into his brain, as if hundreds of ants were gnawing at his brain cells.
That sour, rancid, sticky stench exploded in his nostrils, making him want to vomit, yet he could not