Orochimaru's mind was a mess.
At some point, Orochimaru had begun to feel that researching immortality was heaven's will.
If that belief, and his obsession with immortality, had not come from the world's will...
Then where was the true will of the world?
It was still raining outside, and the damp air felt heavy.
Orochimaru could not tell whether the pressure he felt came from Yanbai or the air itself.
He did not know whether dawn was approaching. Everything around him felt cold and dark.
Orochimaru closed his eyes, recalling the acceptance and support Yanbai had shown him in the Dōjutsu World.
Even when the public disapproved of his research, Yanbai had always supported him.
Even when the entire world regarded him as its enemy, Yanbai would still offer him some help.
There were too many people around him.
The only one he could truly trust was Yanbai.
The lessons Yanbai had taught Orochimaru had been subtle, yet deeply profound.
Lying depended on the face, but the eyes were traitors to the soul.
Anyone who could truly conceal their real emotions would be richly rewarded by the world.
Orochimaru did not immediately answer Yanbai's question. Instead, he looked straight into those sunset-colored eyes and suddenly said, "When I was at the height of my glory, so many people surrounded me. But in the end, you were the only one I could truly rely on."
"Doesn't Madara count?" Yanbai smiled.
"Dad and I have incompatible ideals. That's already been proven." Gazing into Yanbai's sunset-colored eyes, Orochimaru continued at an unhurried pace, "Even when you disagree with my ideals, you never insist that my values must match yours. Everyone else always thinks, 'Those who agree with me have the right values, and those who oppose me have the wrong ones.'"
"Is that