Inside the Four Violet Flames Formation, the atmosphere was stifling and grim.
Orochimaru extended his long tongue and slowly licked his lips. In his eerie serpent eyes was reflected the aged, exhausted figure of Hiruzen Sarutobi. He savored this moment—savored the suppressed pain on his former teacher's face.
"Teacher Sarutobi, the expression on your face brings me such exquisite pleasure." His voice was hoarse, like a venomous snake hissing beside the ear. "Do you regret it? Regret not choosing me back then, and choosing Minato Namikaze instead—the man who only ever prattled on about 'will'?"
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, heaved heavily a few times. His grip around the Adamantine Staff tightened, his knuckles whitening from the force. He forcibly suppressed both the frailty of his aging body and the grief in his heart. His voice remained steady, carrying the weight befitting a Hokage.
"I have never regretted it."
His gaze passed beyond Orochimaru, as though he had seen the distant past—the spirited golden figure standing atop Hokage Rock. "The Hokage bears the will of the entire village and the future entrusted by countless people. It is not a tool for satisfying personal ambition. All you see is power and so-called immortality, yet you have never seen what needs to be protected. Orochimaru, from the very beginning, you were never qualified to become Hokage."
Those words struck like iron. It was the first time since Orochimaru's defection that master and disciple had so bluntly torn open the scars of the past.
"Protection?" As though he had heard the most laughable cliché in the world, Orochimaru let out a low, spine-chilling laugh. "What a boring and fragile cliché. Will? Can something so intangible block my ninjutsu? Can it restore your youth?"
His laughter came to an abrupt halt, replaced by a