The shattered rocks around them made Tsunade's lips curl into a faint smile—satisfaction gleaming in her eyes at the result of her strike.
With her current strength, what Tsunade still lacked was the accumulation of massive reserves of vitality. Her physique was already exceptional, so refining her life force came more naturally to her than to most shinobi.
Because of that, her growth curve wouldn't be dramatic in the short term.
The real breakthrough would come only after her body was fully tempered—when Tsunade could rely purely on raw physical strength, without even drawing on chakra, to overpower an opponent of Kage level.
Compared to the other Kage, her reputation as a Medical-nin had always made her seem the weakest in direct combat. But now, as she felt herself improving once more, how could she not feel exhilarated?
"Let's go, Shizune. Time to head back," Tsunade called, already planning to return and refine her mastery over the Mighty Fist technique.
Strictly speaking, the Mighty Fist was a Senju clan art, rarely shared outside the family. But if the Umbrella Organization dared to spread precious martial arts and ninjutsu across the shinobi world, why shouldn't she embrace it as well?
Perhaps, years from now, when martial arts had developed into a system of its own, her name—Tsunade Senju—would be remembered among its pioneers.
Unlike phased training methods, the Mighty Fist emphasized explosive bursts of force. It filled the gaps left by early-stage weaknesses and compensated for the lack of immediate offensive power.
Shizune finally caught up, staring wide-eyed at the devastated ground. Her face was covered in black lines as she struggled to process the sheer destructive power her teacher had just unleashed.
"Lady Tsunade! We… we're just leaving it like this?" she asked, her voice unsteady.
Tsunade glanced around at the flattened landscape and clicked her tongue. "What a hassle."
With a swift sequence of hand seals, she slammed her palm onto the earth. The ground trembled, and the massive crater quickly filled in.
As for the hill that had once stood there, Tsunade could only shrug inwardly. Forgive me—I can't put it back.
Dusting her hands, she declared, "There. Done. Let's go."
She strode forward without hesitation, leaving Shizune frozen in disbelief for a moment before hurrying after her.
Far away, deep beneath the Land of Rice Fields, the air in a hidden underground complex was thick and dim. Sparse torches flickered along the stone passages, their faint glow casting eerie shadows.
At the end of one corridor lay a chamber. Wires crisscrossed the floor in a careless tangle, and amid the gloom sat a pale-faced man with golden, slit-like pupils—eyes as cold and venomous as a serpent's.
"Hoo… hoo… hoo…" Orochimaru's low chuckle echoed in the darkness as he turned the pages of a book.
"Science, hm? How fascinating."
The shinobi world possessed technology, but its development was warped and stunted by the existence of chakra.
No unified theory had ever risen to define it. Yet the book in his hands laid out knowledge in precise terms: a systematic body of principles, predictions, and verifiable explanations about the natural order.
Natural sciences, social sciences, cognitive sciences, formal sciences… the text named them all.
And written boldly across its pages:
Science is the primary productive force.
The symbols of all things can be explained by science.
According to this framework, chakra was but one manifestation of life energy—unique, but not singular.
A glint of fanaticism flickered across Orochimaru's face.
"To meet the author of this work… yes, he must have touched upon the truth."
What Orochimaru truly pursued was not immortality itself, but knowledge.
His desire was to uncover the world's ultimate truths. Immortality was simply the only path he had found to grant himself enough time to reach them.
His genius for research was beyond doubt. Yet because he had always pursued his studies alone, his methods had grown twisted—especially in the field of biology, where cruelty came as naturally to him as breathing.
But in this harsh shinobi world, could anyone truly be surprised? It was the world itself that had shaped Orochimaru into what he had become.
The three legendary Sannin had once been ordinary in their youth, perhaps even idealistic. But the cruelty of reality had driven them apart, each choosing a different road.
Perhaps Jiraiya alone had managed to keep his clarity.
As the Umbrella Organization grew stronger, its expansion became bolder, no longer hiding in the shadows.
Naturally, Orochimaru took notice. He cared little for their ideology—such things mattered little to him—but what intrigued him was a concept they constantly invoked: science.
The ideology itself was shocking, yes, but compared to the pursuit of knowledge, what did the political state of the shinobi world matter? To Orochimaru, only science was worth his attention.
Still, he could sense it. This organization might one day rival Akatsuki—or even surpass it in madness.
A fanatical gleam spread across Orochimaru's pale face.
"The Umbrella Organization… I look forward to meeting you," he whispered.
He glanced at the book in his hands. In the column for "author," there was only one word: Leader.
A code name, perhaps. Or perhaps a title. It might have many meanings.
"Send word. I want the Umbrella Organization closely monitored. Find a way to establish contact with them—but do not provoke them lightly," Orochimaru ordered.
The boy beside him bowed his head. Kimimaro's beauty made him an ideal vessel, though Orochimaru pitied the frailty of his body.
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru," Kimimaro answered softly, his voice as calm and lifeless as still water, before turning to leave.
Orochimaru watched him go, then returned his gaze to the book brimming with dangerous ideas.
The real reason he had warned Kimimaro against conflict was simple: the Umbrella Organization was vast, sprawling across the shinobi world like an invisible net.
At first, Orochimaru had scoffed at their recruitment of commoners. What use were powerless civilians to a shinobi organization?
But the more he studied their writings, the more his mind opened to the truth. Their strategy was not about shinobi fighting shinobi. No—Umbrella's ambitions reached far beyond that.
They sought to reshape the entire shinobi world itself.
It was insane. Insane enough to rival Akatsuki.
During his time with Akatsuki, Orochimaru had understood their basic goal: the collection of the Tailed Beasts. Nagato's vision was to impose peace through pain.
But Umbrella's ideology?
To Orochimaru, it seemed… almost more rational.
Looking down at the pages in his hands, Orochimaru's lips curved faintly. Perhaps this is the true "Will of Fire," twisted into something greater.
"Old man Sarutobi… you may soon face an opponent you've never imagined," he murmured.
Akatsuki sought to conquer the world through overwhelming force. Umbrella sought to transform it through ideology. To Orochimaru, the world was becoming far more entertaining.
Closing the book, he turned and slipped deeper into his lair, the flickering torchlight swallowing his pale form. In the next chamber, the sound of bubbling fluids and clinking steel echoed—Orochimaru was already resuming his experiments.
...
TN:
⚒️ Pa-treon-com/LordMerlin (Support me! 😊)