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Chapter 163: The Pride of the Strong
Golden Lion slowly straightened his back. He showed no gratitude for Orochimaru's agreement; instead, he wore a look of justified arrogance.
"Should have been like this from the start."
Golden Lion grinned, revealing stark white teeth. There was no ninja-like restraint or control in that smile, only the lawless recklessness of a pirate. "Messing around all day with these wastes who only know how to play with puppets... my sword is about to rust."
He casually twirled his sword. The air was torn by the blade, emitting a mournful whistle.
"Yotsuki Raito..." Golden Lion muttered the name in a low voice. The three-tomoe Sharingan in his eyes spun faster and faster, the crimson light trailing two eerie afterimages in the dim tent. That excitement was the bloodlust that only erupted when facing prey of the same level. "Only this kind of guy is worth being slaughtered by me personally!"
Boom!
A burst of violent chakra erupted from his body without warning. The tent supports, already teetering, groaned under the burden. The maps hanging on the wall rustled loudly, and several thumbtacks were shaken loose and sent flying. The surrounding ninja paled, subconsciously stepping back half a pace, gripping their kunai tightly.
"Orochimaru, don't let anyone else interfere."
Golden Lion turned around, the bloodstained Uchiha uniform flapping behind him. He walked toward the outside of the tent without looking back, his voice cutting through the rain curtain, clearly reaching everyone's ears.
"That is my prey. Whoever dares to steal it, I'll cut them down first."
As his voice fell, the arrogant figure lifted the curtain and strode into the sky-filling wind and rain. It wasn't until his back completely disappeared that the suffocating oppression in the tent dissipated slightly.
Phew—
Several Chunin responsible for guarding let out long breaths, only realizing then that their backs were soaked with cold sweat.
"That guy... truly has Uchiha blood!" someone whispered, their tone full of terror.
Smack!
A crisp sound broke the silence.
"What is with him! That bastard!"
Nawaki's tender face was written with displeasure, hands on his hips, shouting loudly in the direction Golden Lion had left. "Even if he's a genius of the Uchiha clan, this is too arrogant! Teacher Orochimaru is the battlefield commander! What was that attitude? Does he not even know a word of politeness?"
Nawaki got angrier as he spoke, his chest heaving violently. As the grandson of the First Hokage and a descendant of the Senju clan, the education Nawaki received from childhood was to protect the village and respect comrades. Although the Senju and Uchiha had historically been at odds, and his grandfather's death was linked to the Uchiha, he didn't harbor deep-seated hatred.
He just simply couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the way these 'Red Eye Disease' people acted like "I am number one in the world."
"And that look! It really pisses people off!" Nawaki waved his fist, imitating Golden Lion's expression just now, scrunching his features together to look fierce. "'Only monsters are worth being killed by me'? Ha! Acting cool! Everyone is fighting to protect the village; he talks like we're all burdens!"
Despite the scolding, there wasn't much actual malice in Nawaki's eyes. Mostly, it was the stubbornness of a young boy. He turned his head to look at Orochimaru, who had remained silent, his tone carrying a bit of grievance and confusion.
"Teacher Orochimaru, why are you so polite to him? A guy like that who doesn't listen to command and acts on his own should be thrown in confinement! Let him learn what teamwork is!"
In Nawaki's view, ninja were tools, parts of a team. A lone wolf like Tsubasa Uchiha who completely ignored discipline was an unstable bomb on the battlefield.
Orochimaru remained standing before the sand table. He didn't immediately answer Nawaki's complaint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing through the gap in the curtain blown open by the wind, staring at the pitch-black rainy night outside. In his golden vertical pupils, the flickering candlelight reflected, obscure and dim.
"Nawaki."
After a long while, Orochimaru spoke slowly. His voice was still hoarse but carried a strange calmness. "In this world, the strong always possess privileges."
He turned around, looking at the fuming Nawaki, the corners of his mouth hooking into a faint smile. "Arrogance is a path to death for the weak. But for the truly strong, it is a medal of confidence."
Orochimaru extended a pale finger, gently tapping the map on the table that had been crumpled by Golden Lion.
Nawaki looked at Orochimaru, the indignation in his eyes not yet dissipated, pouting enough to hang an oil bottle. "Privileges? My grandfather said everyone in the village is equal."
Orochimaru chuckled. A figure like the First Hokage only appeared once in thousands of years. Equal! How could it be equal?
He looked at the retreating figure of Golden Lion, his eyes extremely complicated. Two months. Just two months. Orochimaru clearly remembered what Tsubasa Uchiha was like when he was first transferred to his command. At that time, Tsubasa had opened the two-tomoe and his Taijutsu was decent, but in Orochimaru's eyes, he was nothing special—just Tokubetsu Jonin level strength. If they fought then, Orochimaru was confident he could slice his throat within ten moves.
But now?
The amount of chakra erupted in that instant just now, that killing intent that felt like plunging into an ice cellar, actually caused Orochimaru a moment of trance. That feeling was like being stared at by an ancient beast. Even he, possessing the name of the "Sannin," felt a thread of threat in that moment.
"Uchiha..."
Orochimaru's hand, hidden in his wide sleeve, clenched tightly violently. His fingernails dug deep into his palm; the stinging pain calmed his restless heart slightly. Is this the power of the Kekkei Genkai? Is this the terror of the Sharingan? Truly a bunch of monsters born for war.
"Teacher?" Nawaki called out tentatively seeing Orochimaru hadn't spoken for a long time.
Orochimaru took a deep breath, released his clenched fist, and the gloomy smile returned to his face. He turned to look at the ignorant Nawaki.
"Nawaki, go rest. Tomorrow, we will also leave the camp."
Nawaki paused, then got excited. "Are we going to support the East Line? I want to fight that Yotsuki Raito too!"
Orochimaru looked at this naive disciple, a trace of complexity flashing in his eyes.
"No."
He shook his head, casting his gaze toward the dark rainy night outside the tent.
"That place is going to become a colosseum for monsters. We are going to the flank to clean up the mess."
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