082 Can the White Serpent Immortal Truly Be Considered Human?

In the darkness beneath the earth, a chorus of snakes hissed. Orochimaru licked his lips and followed Lady Tianxin, disappearing into the depths below, where the shadows confined his vision to just a few meters around him.

Yet, in his mind, countless interwoven lines emerged, sketching out the labyrinthine passageways of the Ryūchi Cave. He sent a fragment of his consciousness onto these lines, allowing him to witness events unfolding at any location within the cave at that very moment.

Honestly, it was of little practical use. This mental map lacked any markers, and the information was so dense and redundant that, to sift through it all, he would need three days and nights, perhaps more.

“Don’t rush. This will take some time,” the spirit of the lamp chuckled softly. The chaotic threads gradually faded, and in Orochimaru’s mind appeared a bold, vivid symbol.

It was a gigantic zigzag.

Orochimaru did not recognize the script and asked, puzzled, “What is this?”

“It’s the ‘dragon’ of the Ryūchi Cave, or more precisely, the White Snake Sage whose body coils through these tunnels,” the lamp spirit explained. “The usual survival of the fittest and the battles among the snakes—I’ve already filtered those out for you. What remains are the cave’s crucial points.”

Following the lamp spirit’s guidance, Orochimaru sent his consciousness to browse more closely, his expression growing increasingly strange as he observed.

Though outsiders saw Ryūchi Cave as a whole, in truth, it was divided by the body of the White Snake Sage into three distinct regions, separated by that zigzag line.

The lowest region was the birthplace of mother snakes, where eggs were laid. The spirit’s mirrored vision revealed mounds of snake eggs piled high. At every moment, countless hatchlings broke free, crawling from the cracks between eggs, heading toward the White Snake Sage and converging into streams of serpents.

This region, beneath the zigzag and at the deepest point underground, was saturated with the earth’s energy—resources were abundant, and the weak, discarded hatchlings provided extra sustenance, making food barely sufficient.

When these young snakes reached the proximity of the White Snake Sage, they split into two flows, much like water striking a rock.

The criteria for this division would have been a mystery to Orochimaru had he come alone. But through the lamp spirit’s perspective, he discerned the difference at a glance.

In the lamp spirit’s words, one stream consisted of sorcerer snakes capable of wielding senjutsu, while the other comprised warrior snakes, whose bodies were merely infused with natural energy.

For the latter, there was little to say: the larger the body, the older the age, the greater the strength. That foolish snake, King of Ten Thousand Snakes, was the most powerful ruler in that domain.

The other region was far more complex, forming the core of the cave’s experimental grounds. Here, some snakes endlessly expanded their size, while others continuously shed their skins, refining their bodies.

For these latter snakes, a careless moment could result in a backlash from the natural energy, transforming them into stone statues shaped like serpents. Everywhere on jagged rocks, thin layers of shed skin and broken serpent stones could be seen.

Orochimaru took in this scene, realizing that the three snake maidens likely originated from this place. To the White Snake Sage, they were like Sasuke Uchiha was to him: pioneers of transformation and test subjects providing valuable data.

Orochimaru’s chest filled with awe. “This is truly breathtaking.”

Like a master craftsman, the survival pattern of the snake tribe had been reconstructed, using the entire species as experimental samples, piling together a path to ‘becoming a dragon.’

The White Snake Sage’s handiwork was nothing short of monumental.

“Indeed,” the lamp spirit echoed with a note of admiration. “The White Snake Sage was once just a snake. Now, perhaps she’s not a ‘sage’ in the truest sense, but she certainly deserves to be called ‘human.’”

Orochimaru paused, surprised by these words. The White Snake Sage’s ruthlessness and venomous cunning far surpassed his own. Was such a monster worthy of being considered human?

“If we judge them by the standards of snakes, or beasts, they are governed by the law of the jungle,” the lamp spirit glanced at Orochimaru. “But the White Snake Sage suppressed her cold-blooded instincts. She shields the tribe, provides resources, allows them to grow—how is that not deserving of ‘human?’”

“In the end, raising a creature only to devour it later is a behavior unique to humans alone.”

Hearing this, Orochimaru slowed his steps. His face twisted, his worldview contorted; he found it utterly absurd.

He wanted to refute the lamp spirit’s claim, yet could not find a flaw in the logic. Even in his heart, he vaguely felt that the distinction between human and animal survival might indeed lie here.

But something about this seemed off. If he admitted the lamp spirit was right, would he also have to accept the White Snake Sage’s venomous malice?

“Why are you so shaken?” the lamp spirit blinked in surprise. “While the form may differ and the scale may change, your own methods aren’t so different from the White Snake Sage. So why the shock?”

The lamp spirit was puzzled—after all, reaping was just reaping. Orochimaru had previously enjoyed cultivating and harvesting his own ‘crops’ happily; now, faced with a larger field, why such intense emotion?

As a human, seeing a farmer harvest wheat should feel only natural.

Even if the livestock were intelligent, squealing pigs or curious chicks, they must still be eaten. That is humanity’s way of survival; why else invest labor and capital to raise them so large?

There was no need for shame or guilt—it was simply the practice of mankind’s survival.

Orochimaru’s face was troubled, so preoccupied he failed to notice Lady Tianxin’s furtive glances. With solemn intent, he declared,

“But wheat fields and humans, and snake tribes and the White Snake Sage, are fundamentally different. They are kin.”

Once, when Orochimaru first crossed the line and preyed upon humans, treating them as commodities for extraction, he had hesitated, plagued by indecision.

It shouldn’t be as natural as the lamp spirit claimed.

“Oh, I see—you’re wrestling with morality,” the lamp spirit mused after a moment’s consideration, suddenly enlightened. He sent images into Orochimaru’s mind, laughing, “It’s merely a convenient definition for humans.

Many worlds are ruled by monarchs, tyrants who dominate the land, emperors who shepherd their people, and nobles who claim superiority over their serfs…

Those are not snakes among snakes, but humans among humans.”

He gestured at the hissing shadows, then at the floating snake maidens ahead. “Do you think, in her eyes, these snakes are kin? They are simply resources to be replenished at any time.”

When there is no kinship, when others are seen as livestock, questions of morality do not arise—it is simply a difference in perspective.

In his travels, the lamp spirit had seen much, and nothing surprised him anymore.

Orochimaru did not find his doubts resolved, his worldview still shaken.

This surprised the lamp spirit; he had expected Orochimaru to accept the notion of ‘all things as crops’ with ease.

After some thought, the lamp spirit continued, “Never mind emperors and their people—look at Danzo, who established the Root division, cultivating expendable ninja.”

“But I am not like him,” Orochimaru replied, mentioning Danzo, always at the bottom of the chain of contempt. His demeanor suddenly calmed.

He looked at the lamp spirit, “You too have walked the path of humanity, nurturing me, reaping my value. Are you the same as the White Snake Sage or Danzo?”

“Of course not,” the lamp spirit laughed, still urging Orochimaru not to dwell on good and evil. “They are villains, but I am a good person.”

“My method of harvesting is far more refined!”