At first he suspected Black Zetsu, but the creature had never monitored him.
Next he thought of the Sage of Six Paths—yet he had no way to verify that.
In any case, he had prepared an escape route: if need be, he would flee the ninja world entirely, grow stronger elsewhere, and return to crush whoever sought to manipulate him.
For now, his priority was refining the ritual.
Until the final moment, the technique would consume four subjects to build power, with the fifth only to be added at the eclipse.
Rather than take living, conscious victims, Hikuro cloned his own cells, growing them into embryos without awakening their awareness.
He then merged them with genetic material from bloodline‑limit users he had collected over the years, creating artificial vessels.
Those that survived and developed unique abilities were infused with a tiny fragment of his own soul, bound to his will.
When the time came, he would absorb them all at once, fully augmenting his own being.
In a very real sense, Hikuro’s obsession with eternal life rivaled that of Orochimaru.
Deep beneath his laboratory, three kilometers underground, lay a hidden chamber.
Rows of high‑tech incubation vessels lined the walls—each holding a figure bearing his face, yet with subtle differences in form and build.
Every body bore a distinct seal‑marking, a mark of his ownership and control.
Nor were these his only duplicates.
Secret laboratories dotted the entire ninja world, preserving countless such vessels.
They served as backup subjects for his assimilation ritual, and as insurance against sudden death.
In truth, Hikuro and Orochimaru were remarkably alike.
Killing him for good was nearly impossible.
His method of rebirth was adapted from Orochimaru’s own philosophy: if one falls, a thousand remain.
Even Orochimaru, whose techniques were still incomplete, could not match Hikuro’s sheer tenacity to survive.
Should his primary body perish, he would use his refined Spirit Projection Art—anchored by fragments of his own soul—to reawaken in a fresh vessel.
For years, he had sought to break the rigid limits of the Jūōro no Jutsu, hoping to absorb any power without restriction.
His biological mastery grew ever more refined, yet the ritual’s arcane, metaphysical side remained stubbornly beyond his grasp.
Perhaps only by journeying to other worlds and gathering knowledge from beyond could he finally solve it.
Minato spoke earnestly.
“Lord Hikuro, I ask that you keep this matter between us.”
For Konoha, Kushina was the Nine‑Tails Jinchūriki.
While news of her pregnancy could not be hidden forever, the fewer who knew, the safer she and the child would be.
Hikuro nodded.
“Rest assured.
Outside of Tsunade, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya, I have few friends here.
Even if I wished to speak of it, there is no one I would tell.”
Minato continued.
“I will bring the payment as soon as possible.
But… is it safe for Kushina to receive the injection?”
“For old guard like Danzō,” Hikuro replied calmly, “the mortality rate would exceed fifty percent.
Even then, it would require extensive adjustment and cellular regulation to lower the risk.”
“But for one young and vigorous like her?
Success is certain.
If you remain uneasy, she may receive it right here in my lab.”
“I… I doubt the Third Hokage would permit that,” Minato said awkwardly.
He trusted Hikuro, but the elders trusted no one entirely.
Hikuro did not take offense.
“Minato,” he asked, “I intend to establish a factory. Find the original chapter at g.com.
What permits are required?”
“What kind of factory, Lord Hikuro?
Some industries are restricted within Konoha.”
“A salt‑production facility,” Hikuro answered casually.
“The research division must fund itself, after all.”
Minato looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“Lord Hikuro, salt is a monopoly held by the Land of Fire’s nobles and daimyō.
Konoha would face great resistance…”
It was a bitter truth: the village demanded breakthroughs from him and Orochimaru yet refused to fund them, and barred them from earning funds on their own.
“Then we should take control of all salt production in the Land of Fire,” Hikuro said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Lord Hikuro, Kumogakure has been restless.
Too bold a move could provoke them.”
“Speak to the Third Hokage,” Hikuro said confidently.
“With a salt works, many of our plans become possible.
It might even bring us closer to uniting the ninja world.”
Minato fell silent, unsure how to reply.
“Speaking of plans,” Minato said, changing the subject, “I found an old proposal you submitted—calling for a global transport network: railways, airships, even long‑range spatial teleportation.
Is such a thing truly achievable?”
The document had long been discarded as nonsense, but Minato had been captivated by its vision—a world where every commoner had food, shelter, and education.
It sounded too good to be true, and was filled with marginalia dismissing it as the fantasy of a foolish child.
“Monday to Friday – Update 3 Chapters a Day”
“Saturday and Sunday – Off”