126. Covert Clash

"If not, then let them all perish!"

Hearing this, the Goat-Masked Elder froze. His eyes, exposed beyond the mask, widened slightly, burning with rage at Orochimaru’s ruthless words.

Of course, this was not out of concern for that doomed Grass ninja. He would have betrayed that man himself without a moment’s hesitation or psychological burden. After all, by bringing such immense trouble upon the village, the individual would have faced punishment from the village even if Orochimaru had spared him.

What truly infuriated the Goat-Masked Elder was Orochimaru’s dismissive attitude. If you want to kill that ninja, fine—come discuss it with us. We are so terrified of you that if you had just pushed the matter a little, we would have certainly agreed. You don't want to communicate? Fine, then just kill him; with your skills, you could surely have finished him off without leaving a trace. Even if you did leave a trace, we are so afraid of you that we would have certainly pretended not to see it.

Why, then, must you do this in front of everyone, in a way that humiliates us and the entire Village Hidden in the Grass to the greatest extent possible?

Watching the contemptuous smile on Orochimaru’s face, the elder clenched his fists, his body trembling slightly, his expression hidden behind the mask twisted in fury. After a long silence, he spoke with difficulty: "Lord Orochimaru, is there truly no room for negotiation in this matter?"

Orochimaru offered a cold, mocking smile, as if he deemed further words unnecessary. The giant serpent lowered its head, its body tensing like a coiled spring, and the pressure of life and death bore down upon the crowd like a stifling shadow. The elder understood clearly: Orochimaru had run out of patience. If he uttered any more nonsense, the attack would begin immediately.

He wasn't even being offered a shred of dignity. The elder felt a surge of grief and indignation, realizing more than ever how deeply these ninjas from the great nations despised them. After a moment of silence, he waved his hand behind him. Amidst the sound of rushing wind, a squad of Grass village Anbu entered the underground infirmary.

Soon, a commotion erupted from below, sounding jarringly distinct in the otherwise silent street.

Driven out by the Grass Anbu and their companions, a group of severely wounded individuals emerged from the main gate, supporting one another. It was clear they were moving with great difficulty; forced to move when they should have been resting, their unhealed wounds began to tear, blood staining their bandages. The sight was too tragic to bear.

The villagers and ninjas of the Grass, witnessing this scene and then looking up at the black silhouette perched atop the giant snake's head, all gritted their teeth in resentment. Even the outsiders forced to remain there could not help but feel a sense of pity, a feeling of "the fox dying and the rabbit grieving." In these chaotic times, these displaced wanderers harbored a longing for the great ninja villages, but it was mixed with a complex emotion of inferiority and the spiteful hostility of "if I am miserable, you should be too." Normally, these feelings were buried in the dark corners of their hearts, but now, faced with Orochimaru’s "brutality," they finally found a righteous path for release.

At that moment, whether they were from the Grass village or outsiders, everyone shared the same thought: *So this is what ninjas from the great villages are like—bullying the weak. How vile and disgusting.* A sense of collective unity began to form among them.

Orochimaru narrowed his eyes, feeling the hostile gazes converging upon him, and the corners of his mouth curled upward. It was the Grass elder's own order; it was he who had pushed these "scraps" that had lost their utility out into the open, perhaps holding onto the desperate hope that the target of the revenge was among them. And yet, somehow, it had become his own fault. He had known the old man wouldn't be content to sit still, but he hadn't expected the counterattack to come so quickly.

*Tsk, tsk, tsk... playing the victim, what a highly effective method.*

However, Orochimaru stood with his hands behind his back, and instead of ignoring the situation, he leaned into it, radiating that long-accumulated, chilling, and icy aura. This masterful performance caused a shiver to run through everyone present; the hot blood boiling in their minds instantly cooled. Although they remained united in their hostility toward Orochimaru, the urge to strike had vanished, replaced by the intention to vent their frustration through verbal abuse afterward. While that wouldn't affect Orochimaru much, they could always intensify their vitriol.

The two Grass elders naturally sensed the shift in atmosphere and cursed internally, thinking, *As expected, just a rabble of useless people.* Yet, their goal had been achieved. By establishing an image of enduring humiliation for the sake of the village, Orochimaru’s coercion had not caused the village to lose anything; rather, it had elevated their cohesion to a new level.

"Cohesion"—the word might sound abstract, but it was vital. If the hearts of the people were scattered, the village would be impossible to lead. Wasn't that exactly why small villages, with their high risks and poor ability to weather crises, were less stable than the great villages, and thus inevitably declined? Having led the Grass village through the chaotic times to the present, the Council of Elders understood this truth far better than the advisors of the Hokage. Losing a bit of face to gain the village’s unity was a very profitable trade.

The number of people and ninjas leaving the infirmary continued to grow. From the severely wounded to those with minor injuries, followed by the few remaining medical ninjas and the administrators of the infirmary. The target Orochimaru was seeking—the woman possessing the bloodline of the Uzumaki clan—was among them. She looked terrified, cradling a seven- or eight-month-old infant. Despite being of the Uzumaki lineage, she could barely stand, appearing incredibly frail.

Orochimaru caught a glimpse of the dense, clearly scarred bite marks on the woman’s exposed skin and paused slightly. Though he had anticipated it, seeing it with his own eyes made him marvel at the sheer beastliness of the Grass village. No matter how incomplete the awakening of a "Sage Body" might be, it was still a Sage Body; to be reduced to this state showed just how much of her life force had been drained.

But this was for the best. Such tragic injuries were ironclad proof that the Grass village could never deny.

Orochimaru commanded the giant serpent to lower its head while he stroked his chin, appearing to scrutinize their faces. Most of the people on the ground were collapsed, their hearts palpitating under the pressure of such a superior life form. Only a few powerful ninjas managed to stand firm, though they remained rooted to the spot, afraid to move. If Orochimaru’s target had been one of them, they would have certainly fought back in a life-or-death struggle, but nothing had been confirmed yet.

The giant snake twisted its head, and Orochimaru’s gaze followed. Whoever he looked at felt their heart skip a beat, and as his gaze moved away, they felt a sense of relief. This happened time and again, their nerves rising and falling, and the courage to fight to the death dissipated under this sadistic, teasing provocation.

Orochimaru understood the human heart all too well. If he truly intended to kill, he would never have given them a single chance to resist.