The world spun violently. Utilizing the power of the Sharingan, the ninja captain forcibly "invaded" Menma's spiritual realm.
"Humph! This is the Sharingan bestowed upon me by Lord Orochimaru! Witness its true power!"
The captain sneered, already picturing the gruesome scenes of torturing this arrogant brat within his mind.
Suddenly, a heavy scent of blood mixed with the pungent stench of gunpowder rushed toward him. It hit his senses like a physical blow, forcing him to stumble back, gasping for air.
When he finally pried his eyes open, he found himself standing in the center of a horrific battlefield.
It was a colossal crater, spanning over ten kilometers in diameter. Severed limbs and the corpses of ninjas were scattered everywhere, their headbands glinting coldly in pools of blood.
The sheer number of bodies—tens of thousands—sent a chill down the captain's spine, leaving him trembling in pure terror.
He jerked his head upward. There, at the heart of the pit beneath a crimson moon, sat a dark red fox. It lay coiled atop a mountain of corpses piled high by countless fallen ninjas.
Nine tails swayed gently under the moonlight.
The fox served as a throne; the stacked bodies were its steps.
Upon that throne, a young man with spiky hair slowly lifted his gaze. His three-tomoe Sharingan swirled with an icy indifference that looked down upon all living things.
"Get out."
A single, soft command. Yet, it exploded in the captain's mind like a clap of thunder.
In the waking world, the ninja captain's seven orifices burst with blood. His chest heaved violently, his lungs feeling as though they were about to rupture.
He struggled to look up, only to find his two subordinates already dead. The masked mystery man stood before him, looking down.
"I'll be taking this gift from Orochimaru."
Before the words could even settle, two fingers sank into the captain's right socket. The two-tomoe Sharingan was ripped out alive.
"Aaaagh—!"
The scream didn't last long.
As Menma examined the blood-stained eyeball in his hand, a small red-haired girl wearing a black hat emerged trembling from the shadows.
"M-Master... Lord Orochimaru requests your presence."
The girl looked to be only four or five years old. She held a glass container where a pale green liquid sloshed slightly.
"Orochimaru is quite thoughtful, it seems."
Menma took the container and dropped the Sharingan inside.
"Let's go. Lead the way."
He turned his gaze to the little girl. Judging by her hair color and age, she was likely Tayuya, one of the future Sound Four.
For now, however, she was just a child who hadn't even refined chakra yet.
"Yes, Master."
Tayuya bowed respectfully and led him toward the base.
The entrance was located within a stone house in the center of the village. This appeared to be the future site of the Hidden Sound Village.
Currently, it was merely one of Orochimaru's strongholds. The formal establishment of the village wouldn't happen until after his defection from the Akatsuki.
The two descended through a tunnel within the stone house. Before long, they reached the second-floor balcony of a massive underground plaza.
In the center of the plaza, several test subjects were locked in a death match. Surrounding them were prison-like cells holding various experiments. Some displayed severe physical deformities; others had lost their sanity entirely, mindlessly bashing their heads against the iron bars.
On the balcony, a long-haired woman stood gazing down at the slaughter.
Hearing the commotion behind her, she slowly turned her head. Her pale face looked exceptionally eerie under the dim, flickering lights.
"Orochimaru, since when did you become an orphanage director?"
Menma's voice drifted playfully from behind the mask.
"As expected, I can't hide anything from you."
The woman smiled thinly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You may leave," Orochimaru said to Tayuya.
"Yes."
Once Tayuya departed, Menma walked to Orochimaru's side. Together, they looked down at the two "subjects" fighting for their lives in the plaza.
"I searched for a long time to find a ninja compatible with the Sharingan. Unfortunately, his strength was too low, and his talent was mediocre."
Orochimaru's voice had become soft, almost delicate.
"It's only natural. Ordinary people can rarely withstand the burden of such a Bloodline Limit."
Menma knew that during his time in Konoha, Orochimaru's human experiments had likely already revealed the vital importance of bloodlines.
"This batch of specimens is also quite flawed."
Orochimaru's snake-like eyes watched the fighters below. His gaze was as cold as if he were looking at trash.
"I heard of a village in the Land of Water," Orochimaru said casually. "The villagers are infected by something that grants them power far beyond normal men, though they lose control easily. I intend to take a look."
"You actually just want to visit the Hidden Mist, don't you?"
Menma exposed the lie directly.
Menma guessed the village belonged to Jugo's clan—where the natural energy was so dense it caused mutations—but he knew Orochimaru's true goal.
Having just performed the Living Corpse Reincarnation, Orochimaru wouldn't move personally for an "uncertain" village. He was likely heading to the "Bloody Mist" to see if he could kidnap a few children with powerful Bloodline Limits.
"Indeed, nothing escapes you."
Orochimaru licked his lips. He hadn't truly expected to deceive this "Shura from the future."
"Bloodline power is important, but I suggest you put some effort into cloning technology."
Menma shook the glass container, watching the Sharingan bob in the liquid.
"Cloning technology?"
Orochimaru stared at the eye, falling into deep thought. He weighed every word from this man, searching for "future information."
"I have tried to clone the Sharingan before. But those clones... none of them could awaken the eye."
Orochimaru recalled his past failures.
That precious two-tomoe eye had been obtained from Danzo. Since the founding of the Foundation, Danzo had been hoarding Uchiha corpses. During the Third Great Ninja War and the subsequent Massacre, Danzo had collected nearly two-thirds of the clan's eyes—enough to squander on Izanagi as he pleased.
"The Sharingan is the ultimate external manifestation of Yin Release and spiritual energy. Whether it awakens or not depends on the Yin Release."
Menma decided to reveal a few secrets in exchange for the gift.
"Meaning... it is possible to clone a three-tomoe Sharingan?"
Orochimaru's interest piqued. If he could mass-produce three-tomoe eyes, he could essentially manufacture ninjas with the strength of Special Jonin.
Ordinary eyes no longer satisfied him. Only the three-tomoe or higher could ignite his desire for research.
Menma didn't mention the evolutions beyond the three-tomoe. His gaze swept over the hall. These subjects had chakra levels barely reaching Genin, and many were physically broken, destined for short lives.
"So," Orochimaru said, his tone turning somewhat flirtatious due to his female host. "Tell me. Why have you come to see me this time? What transaction do you wish to make?"
Menma felt a slight wave of physical revulsion at the tone, but remained unmoved.