Ryusei’s smirk widened, his tone casual, almost careless, as though he were discussing something trivial.

“I can directly state the full extent of their bloodline gifts. Broken down logically, intuitively, from first principles, without you wasting years chasing scraps, dissecting samples, and crawling through blind alleys. I can help you connect every dot. Even the reason why those bloodlines exist, in the first place, their full histories, the secret ties between those two clans. How to best use their gifts. What would happen if you combined them, and why? And more. Precise truths, not rumors.”

He leaned back slightly, voice calm but cutting. “In return, what I want is simple. A complete version of the Edo Tensei technique.”

The words hung in the ruined shrine like a blade.

Orochimaru blinked once, slowly, his expression unreadable.

Then his lips parted in a soundless laugh, shoulders trembling with amusement.

“Ahhh… Edo Tensei…” His tongue slid across his lips as his eyes gleamed with equal parts hunger and surprise.

“You ask for something… dangerous. A child who names that jutsu so boldly…”

For the first time in the conversation, his smile wavered into something closer to genuine amusement, but beneath it coiled fascination.

The Edo Tensei was something Orochimaru had received from Hiruzen only a few years back, an abandoned relic, left to gather dust, that was why Hiruzen even parted with it so easily. It was still a half-formed idea, ever since Tobirama had sketched the concept and then died before he could bring it to completion.

Inwardly, Orochimaru was surprised. Not that Ryusei knew of Edo Tensei, with his identity, that was possible, but at what he was offering in return.

It was as if all the truths people thought they knew, the accepted common sense of the shinobi world, even the knowledge held by Konoha’s higher-ups, himself included… were incomplete. Fragments of a larger picture. Ryusei’s words hinted that there was much, much more to uncover about the Senju and Uchiha than anyone had ever dared imagine.

That thought made Orochimaru’s pulse quicken. He could almost see it, countless new paths opening, each one a possibility to accelerate his progress in ways experiments alone never could that fast. Not just scraps of insight, but a holistic understanding, delivered whole.

As for whether it was worth it? He weighed it. Edo Tensei, in his current state, was still imperfect, unfinished. Yes, it was an S-rank kinjutsu, one of the strangest and most powerful in existence. But what Ryusei promised… even if they were only fragments, theories, or “musings” about his clan archives, they touched the deepest questions Orochimaru craved.

Bloodlines, their origins, their combinations, their hidden logic.

Topics a man like him would kill for.

And if anyone could use such knowledge to its full potential, it was him.

No, he wasn’t at a loss. Not at all.

His smile returned, slow and sharp.

“Very well, Ryusei-kun. You will have what you ask for. Edo Tensei, in its entirety… though I warn you, it is far from gentle. As for what you owe me…”

His golden eyes glinted, hungry.

“I expect you to make good on every word you’ve just spoken.”

Ryusei felt a subtle wave of relief inside. He hadn’t misread Orochimaru’s nature, history, and what he desired the most, after all.

But if he had come here today without preparation, without protections, he would have been finished before any negotiation could even begin.

Why would a man like Orochimaru bargain for something he could simply take by force later?

But now things were different. With Tsunade’s shield, genuine and growing, and the Daimyo’s coerced protection standing like a political wall, Ryusei had bought himself the freedom to sit here and force Orochimaru into cooperation.

The Edo Tensei wasn’t something he sought for the obvious reason. He had no interest in parading dead shinobi as his soldiers. Not when the practical limitations were so steep.

The jutsu demanded DNA samples, and gathering those of the greats was nearly impossible for someone not embedded at the highest levels of a village or tied to only one permanently.

And even if he had them, the technique in this era was still crude.

A shadow of what, an even bigger genius, Kabuto would one day achieve nearly two decades later.

Orochimaru’s version here was closest to the incomplete sketch Tobirama left behind.

Probably even weaker and more flawed than the same one that had dragged out the First and Second Hokage, but couldn’t finish Hiruzen cleanly, during the “Kohoha Crush” arc.

After all, by that point, Orochimaru was still probably making further refinements from today.

But that was all Ryusei needed. He didn’t want the technique for battlefield puppets. He wanted its framework. Its roadmap.

His grin widened faintly as his thoughts aligned.

What he needed wasn’t the bodies; it was the pathway.

The understanding of how Edo Tensei even ‘reached’ for the Pure Land, and dragged something back across the divide, through pure jutsu shiki alone.

His own comprehension of souls was already sharp, refined by that transmigration necessity.

But his knowledge of the Pure Land was empty, a blank wall he had no map for.

Edo Tensei was the first map.

With it, he could finally test another out-of-the-box concept he’d been turning over in his mind for some time.

A creative path no one else would ever think to try.

And through it, he might carve a shortcut through years of elemental training, cutting straight toward the two advanced fused elements he had never forgotten, and reach them far sooner than anyone thought possible.

He exhaled, steady and calm, then let his smirk return.

Thinking of souls sparked another thought.

Something else he could propose, another layer of cooperation.

Ryusei’s grin deepened as he raised the next point he was willing to trade, and what he might demand in return—

“There’s one more thing,” he said evenly. His expression then smoothed into something more thoughtful, though the faint curl of his lips never left.

“For some reason, ever since I was a child, I’ve had… a clearer grasp of souls than others. An instinctive understanding, almost. It’s hard to explain. But it’s there. I thought it might interest you as well, by the way.”

He reached into his flak jacket, unsealed a small slip of paper, and passed it across the gap between them.

A sample bundle of his own writing, fragmented formulas, layered observations, and raw theoretical sketches of his personal research into souls.

“What I want in return is simple,”

Ryusei added, his tone as casual as if he were asking for spare ink.

“Some of your personal notes on advanced levels of fuinjutsu and jutsu-shiki. Nothing specific. Just whatever your general understanding and advanced areas of interest lie.”

For a moment, Orochimaru simply stared at him, golden eyes flickering between the boy and the sheaf of paper in his hand.

Then he accepted it, long pale fingers curling around the pages.

He scanned them idly at first, his movements smooth, disinterested, until the words struck him. His eyes sharpened.

The air in the ruined shrine seemed to thicken.

Inside those notes was not gibberish, not half-baked theory, but a clarity he hadn’t expected.

A framework for souls that didn’t contradict his own knowledge, but extended it.

Completed it. It slipped neatly into the holes in his research like pieces of a puzzle.

He realized, suddenly, this boy’s words were not empty. They weren’t mimicry. They were valuable. They could bolster his own work on vessel transfer, on immortality, on shedding the skin of one body for another. This wasn’t just some child’s wild scribbles; this was insight.

Orochimaru’s smile stretched, genuine and sharp. “Fascinating… truly fascinating. And here I thought you were only dangling borrowed clan secrets. Yet this… This is useful. Very useful.”

He looked up, golden eyes narrowing with delight. “Tell me, Ryusei-kun. Do you already have all of this written down? Alongside those other little ‘inheritances’ you mentioned earlier?”

Ryusei’s smirk widened. “Yes. I do.”

A low chuckle slipped from Orochimaru’s throat, almost affectionate. “Prepared, then. You came here ready to bargain with me in earnest. I almost want to commend you. But—” his tongue flicked briefly over his lips, “—it means I’ll need time to prepare my side as well. I don’t want to hand you scraps. If we are to trade, it should be equal.”

He folded the paper and slid it into his robe, his grin curling. “I will ready my own personal notes on fuinjutsu and jutsu-shiki. Not mere copies, but the real framework, the essence I’ve refined. That way, when we exchange — two for two, Edo Tensei and my notes for your bloodline knowledge and this soul theory — neither of us will feel swindled.”

Outwardly, he spoke with smooth confidence, but inwardly, there was a strange twist in his gut. Passing on knowledge like this, not stolen scraps, not techniques he had dissected from others, but his personal essence of sealing theory and formula logic — it felt… odd.

Almost like handing over part of himself. As if, without meaning to, he was treating Ryusei like a disciple.

The thought was unsettling. He dismissed it quickly, but it lingered like a shadow at the edge of his mind.

“Come back in a few days, I will notify you,” Orochimaru said finally, voice silk over steel.

“We’ll complete our trade then. Until that time… do not disappoint me.”

Ryusei inclined his head slightly, the faint smirk never leaving his lips. “I don’t intend to.”

Neither spoke further.

The snake that had delivered Orochimaru earlier slithered back across the stones, curling around his feet.

With a ripple of movement, Orochimaru’s form seemed to melt, sinking back into the serpent’s body until both vanished into the underbrush, leaving only the faint scent of damp earth behind.

Ryusei lingered for a moment, silent.

The shadows swayed as the wind stirred through the ruined shrine.

Then he turned, his suppressed clone body dissolving into mist as it dispelled, carrying every detail back to his true self.

Back at his secluded training spot, Ryusei opened his eyes as the memories poured in, his breathing slow and steady.

The corner of his mouth curled upward.

“Good,” he thought. “Step by step.”

The night deepened, and with it, the promise of the trade to come.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep