Should we add a spectator area?

“Of course, even if you don’t mind losing control of your bowels, you should consider Lord Orochimaru and me,” Kabuto said.

Hearing this, Jin Uchiha’s face darkened, and his gaze towards Kabuto grew unfriendly.

Kabuto looked completely unruffled and confident. The two locked eyes for a moment before Jin Uchiha snorted coldly and turned toward the washroom.

There were matters of greater urgency; he had no time to quarrel with this bespectacled youth.

After he entered the washroom, Orochimaru nodded to Kabuto and continued preparing the nutrient solution for the next stage.

Kabuto’s provocation had been at Orochimaru’s prompting. Emotions like anger and irritation could heighten mental activity, which would be beneficial during the upcoming first-generation cell transplant.

At the same time, it was a way to prepare Jin Uchiha for what was to come, so he wouldn’t be alarmed by any normal bodily reactions.

A seasoned warrior who had slaughtered countless on the battlefield might not be able to accept losing control over such base functions—especially since he was about to be immersed in a tank of nutrient solution, and what might happen there...

In short, even the smallest advantage could not be overlooked. Orochimaru was determined to do everything possible to ensure the success of this transplant experiment.

...

A considerable amount of time passed—far more than it would take an ordinary man to relieve himself and take a shower—before Jin Uchiha finally emerged from the washroom.

His expression was dazed, as though he were questioning the very meaning of life, newly aware of just how much filth his body could hold.

“Now you understand, don’t you? If you lose control mid-surgery, do you know what could happen?” Kabuto’s eyes narrowed, his indifferent face taking on a mocking tone.

Jin Uchiha’s face was still ashen as he glanced at the long tank filled with a pale green solution—the one he was clearly meant to soak in. For a moment, he said nothing.

Just as Kabuto had warned, if he lost control during the procedure, the tank would be instantly contaminated. The mere thought made Jin shudder. At that moment, he grasped the true urgency of the situation.

When the unknown risks of surgery became as concrete as being submerged in his own waste, Jin Uchiha’s resolve and willpower soared even higher.

Orochimaru, monitoring his mental fluctuations on the instruments, licked his lips. The upward spike in Jin’s mental energy sparked many new ideas in his mind.

Had he known that ordinary people cared so much about such things, he would not have refused Fugaku’s request to observe the operation. Surely, the anxiety of exposing such an indignity before the clan head would have pushed Jin’s mental resilience even further.

Pushing the thought a little further, why stop at Fugaku? Jin Uchiha’s parents, friends, companions, and fiancée could all be invited as witnesses. Surely, that would increase the success rate of the surgery even more.

Of course, these were just idle musings; after all, Orochimaru was no monster.

Besides, there was no time for such amusements in this operation.

Orochimaru gestured to Jin Uchiha. “Remove your clothes, lie down in the tank, and keep your Sharingan activated.”

Hearing this, Jin’s eyes narrowed. When he opened them again, his once-black irises had become crimson, spinning with three black tomoe.

Stripping down to a single covering, Jin immersed most of his body in the pale green solution and was secured in the tank.

“Throughout the procedure, no anesthetic will be used. Not only will your body feel pain, but your mind will be attacked as well. If you lose consciousness, I’ll have no choice but to declare this experiment—this surgery—a failure,” Orochimaru said, licking his lips with a sinister grin. “I’ll do my best to keep you alive, but you may well be left crippled.”

Under the glare of the surgical lamps, his face grew paler, exuding severity, threat, and a cold smirk.

At first, Jin Uchiha had not thought much of the surgery, but now he was suddenly gripped by unease.

With his final instructions given, Orochimaru scrubbed his hands and sent chakra threads from his fingertips, probing along Jin’s side to locate his chakra network.

The transplant plan for Jin was not the same as the previous Yamato-type cell fusion solution. Though that method was the most effective, completely altering the recipient’s constitution, it could not be used in practice because the problem of first-generation cell invasion was unsolved.

Orochimaru intended to use localized cell transplantation, operating on a specific area of Jin Uchiha’s body. That way, even if it failed, the affected flesh could simply be excised, and he would likely survive.

According to the Lamp Spirit, this method had succeeded before in the ninja world.

The last time they were attacked by Obito Uchiha, and the now-deceased Madara Uchiha, both had used this approach.

Unlike Madara, who had the transplant in his chest, Orochimaru had initially intended to select the buttocks—simply because there was plenty of flesh there, and losing a small portion would be least dangerous.

However, considering that area had too few chakra channels, which made suppressing the first-generation cells difficult, while the chest was too risky being close to the heart, Orochimaru settled on the side of the abdomen as a compromise.

Once the area was marked, Orochimaru twirled his fingers, and four suppressant syringes appeared between them.

As the suppressants were injected, Jin Uchiha’s brow furrowed deeply, clearly in immense pain.

Orochimaru had expected this. Any agent strong enough to suppress first-generation cells would not be harmless; it was highly toxic. But, as always, discussing the effects without considering dosage was meaningless. Four syringes’ worth might only cause a fist-sized patch of tissue to necrotize, and once the first-generation cell harmonizer was injected, even that effect would be diminished.

Suddenly, a sharp, anguished cry was forced from Jin Uchiha’s throat. The agony of having first-generation cells implanted was too much, even for a powerful, fiercely proud elite Uchiha.

Orochimaru’s eyes narrowed as he saw, with the naked eye, tiny fleshy sprouts rise up from Jin’s side, writhing and twisting like saplings breaking through the soil.

A voice echoed in Orochimaru’s mind, “How disgusting—is this a twisted jungle, or a tribute to Cthulhu?”

He wasn’t sure what Cthulhu was, but the twisted jungle the Lamp Spirit had mentioned seemed apt.

But this was only the beginning. As the first-generation cells began to proliferate, the mutations would only become more grotesque.

Seeing Jin Uchiha struggling, Orochimaru barked, “Control your chakra—no, use your ocular power to merge with this force!”

Another scream tore from Jin’s throat. Orochimaru’s heart tightened, and he produced several more suppressant syringes, ready to subdue the rampaging cells at any moment.

“Lord Orochimaru, Jin Uchiha’s chakra is rapidly dropping,” Kabuto, monitoring the instruments, suddenly announced.