Chapter 82: A Brother’s Guidance

The air in the makeshift mess hall was thick with the smell of bland stew and damp earth, but Ren ate without complaint. In a place like this, one took sustenance where they could find it. Once finished, Kabuto led him through the maze of torch-lit tunnels, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold stone. The deeper they went, the more the air hummed with a familiar energy—the sharp, electric crackle of lightning release and the heavy thud of impacts.

They emerged onto a rocky overlook that surveyed a vast, cavernous training ground. Below, amidst a field of shattered rock and scorch marks, Sasuke Uchiha moved with a frantic, desperate intensity. His breaths were ragged gasps that echoed faintly in the cavern, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. With a raw, guttural cry, he formed the familiar one-handed seal. The air filled with the piercing shriek of a thousand birds as brilliant blue-white lightning chakra coalesced in his palm—Chidori. He lunged forward, a blue streak of motion, and plunged the technique into the heart of a massive stone pillar. The rock exploded inward, crumbling into dust and rubble with a thunderous boom that shook the very ground.

As the dust settled, Sasuke stood panting, his shoulders heaving, visibly trembling from exhaustion and channeled chakra. He was pushed far past his limits.

On the ledge above, Orochimaru watched this display with a thin, possessive smile. He didn’t turn as they approached. “Kabuto. You are dismissed. Attend to the village’s affairs. I will entertain our guest.”

“Of course, Lord Orochimaru.” Kabuto bowed and melted back into the shadows without a sound.

“Ren-kun,” Orochimaru rasped, finally turning. His serpentine eyes gleamed in the dim light. “I trust you found your accommodations… acceptable?”

“Let’s just say the constant vigilance against venomous insects crawling into my room made for a rather restless night,” Ren replied, his voice flat and unamused. “I spent most of it mentally preparing my pest extermination protocols.”

Orochimaru’s smile widened, a ghastly sight. “Hehehe~ A valued partner of Oto has nothing to fear from mere insects. And I suspect such pests would find you… decidedly unpalatable.”

“Let’s hope they possess that basic survival instinct. It would be a shame to have to… de-infest my new home so soon.” Ren let the threat hang for a beat before getting to the point. “I believe you have something for me. The terms of our agreement.”

“Of course. I am a shinobi of my word.” Orochimaru’s grin turned sly. He opened his mouth unnaturally wide. A wet, choking sound emanated from deep within his throat. Ren watched, a potent wave of disgust washing over him, as Orochimaru’s neck convulsed. A single glass test tube, slick with viscous, clear fluid, slid up his tongue and into the open air. Orochimaru’s long, forked tongue curled around it, presenting the dripping tube to Ren. It glistened unpleasantly in the torchlight.

*This is the most revolting delivery system imaginable,* Ren thought, his face a mask of contemptuous disbelief.

Orochimaru, seemingly oblivious to the sheer grotesquery, mumbled around his extended tongue, “Hehe~ Wha’ss wrong, Ren-kun? Isss what you asssked for.”

Ren stared for a long moment, weighing his burning desire for the cells against the absolute vileness of the presentation.

Finally, with a sigh of utter exasperation, he raised a hand. He didn’t touch the tube. Instead, he formed a quick, single-handed seal. A small, controlled puff of fire—a tiny, precise *Gokakyū no Jutsu*—shot from his lips, washing over the test tube for a fraction of a second. The foreign fluids sizzled and vaporized into a harmless, slightly acrid steam, leaving the glass perfectly clean and sterile.

*Now* he plucked it from Orochimaru’s tongue. “Your storage methods are… unique,” Ren said, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm as he examined the small cluster of faintly pulsating cells within. “I’ll be taking this.”

Orochimaru retracted his tongue, his smirk undiminished. “As you wish. I shall leave you to it. I have… other matters to attend to.” With a final, lingering glance between Ren and the exhausted Sasuke below, he turned and slithered away.

Now alone, Ren looked down at the training field. A cold, cynical smirk touched his lips. He pocketed the precious test tube and dropped soundlessly from the ledge, landing a few yards behind his brother.

Sasuke was still bent over, hands on his knees, sucking in ragged breaths. The air around him reeked of ozone, dust, and sweat.

“Heh. All that effort, all that chakra, just to break a rock?” Ren’s voice cut through Sasuke’s panting, laced with pure mockery. “Is this the great power Orochimaru promised you? No wonder you’re still years away from even touching Itachi’s shadow.”

Sasuke’s body went rigid. He slowly straightened up, his fists clenching at his sides so hard his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to turn around. The voice, the condescending tone—it was etched into his memory from their last encounter.

“Shut up,” Sasuke growled, his voice raw with exhaustion and simmering fury.

“Or what?” Ren taunted, taking a few deliberate steps closer. “You’ll use another one of your flashy jutsu? Go on. Try to hit me. Or have you finally run dry?”

That was the final straw. With a roar of pure, unadulterated rage, Sasuke spun around, his Sharingan flaring to life with a surge of adrenaline. But he was slow, drained, and operating on hatred alone. It was pitifully easy for Ren.

In a blur of motion too fast for the exhausted Sasuke to track, Ren closed the distance. There was no ninjutsu, no grand technique. Just a brutally efficient front kick that landed squarely in Sasuke’s stomach.

The air blasted from Sasuke’s lungs in a pained, choked gasp. He was lifted off his feet and thrown backward like a discarded puppet, crashing into another intact stone pillar with a sickening crunch. The pillar cracked under the impact, and Sasuke slumped to the ground amidst a shower of rubble. He clutched his abdomen, coughing, a thin trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. His Sharingan flickered and died, the pain too great to maintain it.

He could only glare up, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense it was almost a physical force.

Ren walked over slowly, his footsteps echoing in the sudden quiet. He looked down at his brother with that same infuriating, detached amusement. “Pathetic. You didn’t even see it coming. You’re so blinded by your rage that you’ve forgotten the fundamentals. A predictable, charging animal is easy to put down, Sasuke. Itachi won’t even break a sweat.” Newest update provided by Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

“Y-You… bastard…” Sasuke choked out, every word a painful struggle.

“Am I wrong?” Ren asked, his voice dropping to a cold, conversational tone. He knelt down, bringing his face level with Sasuke’s. “You think power is just about learning bigger, flashier jutsu? You think that snake is giving you his best? He’s not your sensei. He’s your jailer, fattening you up for the slaughter. He doesn’t want you to beat Itachi. He wants your body. And you’re walking right into his open jaws because you’re too desperate, too weak-minded to see the cage around you.”

He leaned in closer, his next words a whisper meant for Sasuke’s ears alone. “You want real power? The kind that actually matters? Stop listening to the snake. Stop blindly chasing the next technique. Start *thinking*. Your most dangerous enemy isn’t just in front of you; he’s all around you.”

Ren stood up, turning his back on his brother as if he were merely another piece of debris. “Your greatest weakness isn’t your chakra reserves, little brother. It’s your terrible judgment.”

He walked away without another glance, leaving Sasuke broken, bleeding, and utterly defeated amidst the ruins of his training ground. The harsh, venomous words hung in the air, far more damaging than any physical blow could ever be.

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