Otsutsuki Amanozako wore a wide-sleeved, loose-bodied white kariginu, with black thin ribbons tied in a cross at his chest. On his lower body were white, loose hama trousers with the cuffs tied shut.
It was an obvious aristocratic attire.
And his usual affectations also possessed a strong aristocratic tone.
Uchiha Sasuke felt that this person was fraught with doubtful points, his body filled with unknown mysteries.
Considering that he was Orochimaru’s subordinate, Sasuke did not delve into it too deeply—the collecting obsession of the mad scientist was hard-core to an appalling degree; if he were curious about every single one, he feared he would end up dizzy with confusion.
Besides, Amanozako was truly outstanding when it came to taking care of people, thorough in every detail and beyond reproach, leaving Sasuke unable to utter a single negative word.
Amanozako was sitting cross-legged, his demeanor exuding a casual elegance.
He was leafing through the book in his hands, and sensing Sasuke’s gaze, he raised his head, revealing a gentle smile to him: “I always feel like Lord Sasuke is thinking of something rather unseemly. Surely that isn’t just my imagination.”
Since he was already using declarative sentences, did he still need to ask?
Sasuke’s pitch-black eyes drifted away for a split second, then moved back.
During his leisure time from training, with curious eyes still wide, he asked: “I was just thinking that you have a lot of experience in taking care of people. However, this differs greatly from your outward appearance.”
He was simply a person full of contradictions.
Sasuke sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, leaning against the wall, gazing forward and waiting unhurriedly for Otsutsuki Amanozako’s explanation.
Because he was certain that as long as he asked, he would get an answer, which was why he had developed such a proud and delicate habit.
“You speak of such matters…” Amanozako mused. “I cannot be entirely certain either. Perhaps it is innate, or perhaps I used to serve others in the past.”
Sasuke looked at him suspiciously, casting a glance at this attire of his.
In Orochimaru’s Sound Village, many children were placed under cursed seals, and they preferred wearing kimonos that were easy to put on and take off, tied at the waist with purple shimekazari ropes.
If they were active-duty ninjas, they would also lean more toward combat outfits that facilitated movement. The few individuals who had eccentric outfits certainly didn’t look like anything of this sort.
The wide, luxurious kariginu on Amanozako’s body was beautiful, but it was not convenient for fighting. It was definitely not something Orochimaru—who did as he pleased in these matters—would arrange. Thus, the only possibility was that he possessed such garments himself and was accustomed to them.
Amanozako lifted a hand, his pristine white wide sleeves fluttering gracefully. He rested his arm on the desk, his white sleeve robes sweeping out a graceful semi-circular arc accordingly.
“Even among nobles, there are different ranks, Lord Sasuke.” Amanozako let out a soft laugh, feeling amused by Sasuke’s cute curiosity. “Perhaps I was merely a household retainer, and though I looked wealthy and noble, I was actually serving those of an even higher status.”
Sasuke paused, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink.
He snatched up the Kusanagi sword lying across his thighs, and muttered thickly: “I’m going to train.”
“Chakra is the intrinsic energy source within a living body, formed by the fusion and condensation of physical energy and spiritual energy, and it is the foundational energy for performing ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu [Note].”
“Amanozako-kun, this is not difficult for you to understand, and you quickly extracted chakra from within your body. Why is it that when it comes to application, you are not very smooth?”
Orochimaru crossed his arms, his golden slit pupils beneath purple eye shadow filled with curiosity and desire for the unknown, and that gaze lingered with a damp, sticky, gloomy aura.
He stuck out his long tongue to lick his lips, every single movement carrying an unshakeable gloom and eeriness.
If there were tools nearby, he would definitely be unable to wait to use experimental apparatus to study Amanozako’s body.
Amanozako paid no heed to that malice, which felt like tangible sticky fluid, and said with a smile: “Perhaps I simply lack the talent for practicing ninjutsu.”
Orochimaru disagreed, his tone sticky and drawn out: “I hold a different perspective, however. Amanozako-kun looks much more proficient at fighting using a different system, which is why you are somewhat sluggish in mobilizing power through chakra. Given time, you will surely erupt with unimaginable combat prowess.”
Amanozako did not show much delight, merely curving the corners of his lips just a fraction, and said in his customary humble tone: “As long as it can be of use to Lord Orochimaru, that is enough.”
Meanwhile, the genius of ninjutsu on the other side was comprehending breathtakingly brilliant power control under Orochimaru’s guidance.
The black-haired, black-eyed youth in white only received a couple of pointers before lowering his gaze in concentration, holding one hand flat in front of him as the continuous stream of chakra between his meridians converged toward the palm of his right hand.
At first, only tiny blue-white electric sparks crackled and danced between his fair fingertips, tiny lightning threads winding aimlessly around his fingertips, occasionally bursting out of control and landing on the nearby rock, immediately blasting fine, dense indentations. The startled snakes emerging from the rock walls hurriedly scrambled back into the depths of the rock caves.
Repeatedly grinding and coordinating the chakra circulation route, the youth’s brows narrowed slightly, his slender eyes reflecting the lightning as he constantly adjusted the ratio of chakra within his body and the operation of its attributes.
As his utilization of the ability deepened step by step, the power of the lightning in his palm suddenly surged violently, dense electrical currents condensing into a mass of unceasingly winding lightning balls. Blue-purple lightning climbed up his sleeve along his forearm, yet bizarrely failed to tear the pristine white fabric.
The air in the cave was ionized by the lightning, permeated with a faint scorched smell, and the floating water mist in the surroundings instantly vaporized into white fog upon colliding with the lightning light.
In the beginning, there were a few failed attempts to compress the form; the out-of-control lightning style burst outward fiercely, the roaring sound causing the rock fragments on the cave ceiling to patter down, and a large swathe of the rock wall was blasted into startling deep craters by the escaping thunderbolts.
When the dust cleared, the youth’s white clothes were still unblemished. He stood firmly in place, his black hair slightly lifted, yet completely unaffected by the shockwave, nor was he discouraged by it. With sunken eyes, he calmly reviewed the nodes where his chakra had just fallen into disorder.
The further along he went, the more consummate his mastery of the lightning style became. With a mere wave of his hand, multiple lightning threads erupted from his palm—some condensing into blades, some winding into ropes, or transforming into a fine lightning net. The ferocious lightning was heaven-destroying and earth-shattering in the eyes of others, yet in his hands, it was retractable and controllable at will.
The blue-purple lightning made the white-robed youth look even more piercingly ethereal and refined, as clean as snow. Clearly situated in a cave full of poisonous insects and utter disorder, the aura around his body was clean and aloof, as if the thunder and the gloomy, chilling cavern had both been reduced to backdrops accentuating his power.
Orochimaru’s golden pupils reflected the sizzling blue-white light, his mental state invigorated along with it, and his astonishment and ecstasy almost gushed out.
Amanozako’s pair of immaculate, flawless Byakugan eyes also reflected that heavy stroke of black and white, unable to move his gaze away for a long time.
“No matter when I see it, Sasuke-kun’s talent always makes one astonished.”
Amanozako agreed strongly with this point, his smile becoming much more sincere: “Compared to a dull and mediocre person like myself, Lord Sasuke is indeed transcendent and refined.”
The two reached a consensus.
Orochimaru, well-versed in acting like a snake, softly consoled him, saying: “Amanozako-kun need not belittle yourself; you also possess extraordinary aptitude.”
Then his tone changed: “Amanozako-kun, why don’t we try a duel using taijutsu?”
Amanozako: “?”
An enthusiastic Orochimaru did not explain the reason and immediately drew his sword, striking without allowing for discussion.
That long sword easily tore through the air, its sharpness cutting to the bone. The sheer piercing chill of the metal weapon alone was enough to sweep across all directions, suppressing the surrounding airflow into stagnation.
Orochimaru had always excelled at cunning and deceitful combat, his footwork tricky and ruthless, clearly intending to deliver a fatal strike without a shred of mercy.
Yet Amanozako did not retreat, his wide white sleeves unfolding against the wind. The moment the tip of the sword was about to reach his body, he gently spun, avoiding this fierce sword thrust with the precision of flowing clouds and running water.
Orochimaru’s strike missed, but he pursued it relentlessly, launching another attack.
With a flick of his wrist, his long sword smoothly conjured layers of sword flowers, and consecutive slashing strikes followed one after another—horizontal and vertical slashes, sweeping blows, stabbing, and provoking. The sword light overlapped layer upon layer, like the continuous tongue of a snake, ultimately weaving an airtight net of cold blades that sealed off all of Amanozako’s evasion space.
Faced with the fatal sword light filling the sky, Amanozako—empty-handed—gently shook his broad sleeves, his white clothes churning like waves. With a sideways lean, a twist of his waist, a sunken shoulder, and a crossed step, his figure shuttled calmly through the dense sword light, the blade unable to harm him by even a fraction.
Just like how the Hyuga family used the Byakugan and the Gentle Fist to see through their opponent’s movements, he could likewise achieve this realm.
Before Orochimaru could change his moves and reorganize his offensive, Amanozako had already seized the strategic opportunity—
He stomped the ground, his figure suddenly sinking and springing up. His white kariginu unfolded in mid-air like a startled swan sweeping across the sky, silently closing in on Orochimaru, the distance narrowing instantly!
Orochimaru reacted extremely fast, immediately retracting his sword for a horizontal slash, attempting to force the close-in person back with the flat of the blade; the move was fierce and decisive.
Yet this time, the one a step faster was still Amanozako.
He surged forward, reaching out empty-handed, his palm wind steady and fierce, precisely latching onto the wrist of Orochimaru’s sword-wielding hand. The rise and fall of his fingertips contained not a shred of brute force, but was deeply versed in the clever skill of discharging force, controlling force with effortless perfection and exquisite mastery.
With a crisp, muffled sound of tendons and bones, Orochimaru felt a numbness in his wrist meridians, the force in his wrist bone instantly sealed, and his fingers gripping the sword hilt were forced to lose strength abruptly.
Clang—
The cold, bright long sword flew out of his hand, then landed slantingly into the ground, the blade vibrating incessantly, its lingering echo piercing.
The momentum of victory and defeat reversed in an instant.
Orochimaru’s adaptability was extremely swift; he immediately discarded the long sword, his body twisting contortedly as he raised his hand with vicious close-quarters combat moves—elbow strikes, throat-locking with fingertips—still fatal killer blows.
Yet Amanozako raised his hand and turned sideways to dissolve all of Orochimaru’s ferocious counter-attacks, following up with a shoulder-press and elbow-strike. The force was heavy, dense, and robust, landing precisely on the vital points of Orochimaru’s shoulder and neck.
Orochimaru’s body suddenly stiffened, his blood churning, and his figure stumbled backward a few steps before barely standing steady. A dull pain spread from his shoulder, and the strength in half of his body felt sluggish and indescribable.
The situation in the arena was completely clear. In that intensely dangerous combat duel just now, the leisurely Otsutsuki Amanozako clearly won the favor of the goddess of victory.
This was not the first time they had engaged in combat using taijutsu, but the previous time was merely mutual probing and hadn’t involved going all out.
To put it strictly, this time was the real, bare-knuckled brawl, and Orochimaru hadn’t held back in the slightest, even executing ruthless moves entirely aimed at taking Amanozako’s life.
And Amanozako’s counterattack was sufficiently splendid—forceful as thunder, executed with effortless ease.
Uchiha Sasuke didn’t even know when he had stopped testing his new jutsu. The crimson three-tomoe Sharingan spun out from his pupils, unable to help themselves as they recorded those peerless, unstoppable taijutsu techniques.
This person, Otsutsuki Amanozako, was far too wondrous; every single time, he could shatter the impression previously carved into his mind.
“I truly didn’t expect Amanozako-kun’s taijutsu accomplishments to be so extraordinary. I really underestimated you before.” A hint of solemnity and wariness lingered in the depths of Orochimaru’s eyes, yet his eyes remained curved in a smile.
Responding before Otsutsuki Amanozako was Uchiha Sasuke’s dangerous tone: “You two weren’t familiar with each other?”
Orochimaru fell silent.
He perceived the faint anger concealed beneath Sasuke’s expressionless, pretty face, which left him in no doubt that if possible, Sasuke would serve up a Chidori strike right away.
“Such a matter is hardly of high importance, Sasuke-kun?” True to form, Orochimaru handled even such an occasion with unhurried composure, even managing to quibble, “Before you came to find me, we merely knew each other.”
Sasuke was not pacified, stating unhappily: “Orochimaru, don’t forget, you and I have a deal. At least before I get my revenge, you should barely give some regard to this body of mine.”
Being able to be approached by any random stranger who even took care of his daily life—such frivolous treatment made it impossible for him to accept it nonchalantly.
Otsutsuki Amanozako knew that if he didn’t speak up now, this fire would sooner or later burn onto him.
Breaking the invisible, terrifying standoff between the two, he spoke in a soft tone: “Allow me to speak without permission, but I can explain this matter, Lord Sasuke.”
He directed his crystal-white eyes toward the rebellious yet peerlessly beautiful youth, his solemn attitude and consistent gentleness doing a fine job of smoothing down the other’s fur.
Sasuke pressed his lips into a straight line, crossed his arms, and raised his chin, signaling for him to speak.