Orochimaru's expression was exceedingly cold. When he smiled, he looked capable of slaying countless young women. This Orochimaru was not the pale, skeletal pervert in his fifties from the original story. He was now incomparably handsome and in the prime of his life. In Konoha, especially among female ninja and civilians, his popularity made Jiraiya, one of the Three Ninja alongside him, green with envy.
Orochimaru merely gave Oguri Hayashi's words a noncommittal smile. He seemed calm and unconcerned, revealing nothing. He was an outstanding ninja, and an outstanding ninja would never let an opponent read his thoughts from his face.
Oguri Hayashi turned around and poured the tea leaves into a clay pot. The abundant rivers and waterfalls had filled Takigakure with clay, making it ideal for pottery. Unfortunately, there were no mineral deposits nearby. During wartime, that was hardly a good thing. It meant kunai and shuriken could not be replenished, and even basic iron farming tools could not be used.
However, Takigakure was not belligerent and had no clear enemies. So long as no one invaded them, they rarely fought. Even when they did, Takigakure had many close-combat specialists but few people skilled with shuriken.
He casually removed the boiling water from the alcohol lamp beside him and slowly poured it into the teapot. The tea leaves inside soon began to swirl.
"What do you think, Lord Orochimaru?" Oguri Hayashi raised his head and looked at Orochimaru.
"What does Sensei think?" Tsunade, Jiraiya, and the Third Hokage sat in an izakaya, drinking and chatting.
A flask of sake and four or five dishes sat before each of them. They held small sake cups in their hands, and though all three wore faintly drunken expressions, their eyes remained clear, without the slightest haze.
Amid the noisy crowd, the