The last time Orochimaru heard about the "Pure Land" from the lamp god was on the night of the Nine-Tails' Rebellion.
Back then, Deng Shen had used the Shinigami as a guide to wander openly through the Pure Land. But in his words, it wasn't some mythical afterlife or the final resting place of souls—it was a space, one that could be reached with the right method.
Yet Orochimaru knew nothing about it beyond vague impressions. After a moment of thought, he asked, "Then… how does one reach the Pure Land?"
Deng Shen chuckled. "Dying is the easiest way."
"…"
Orochimaru's expression darkened. His glare at the lamp god turned sharp, but knowing the nature of Deng Shen's existence, he swallowed his irritation.
"I'm not joking," Deng Shen said with a shrug. "The Pure Land is more like a spiritual domain—one you can only enter in the form of a chakra-based soul after death. Forcing your physical body in is possible… but it goes against the natural laws of the Pure Land and will likely draw the attention of its master."
"Master?" Orochimaru's eyes narrowed. "There's someone who owns the Pure Land?"
"Of course," Deng Shen replied casually. "It was created by the Sage of Six Paths."
He went on to explain that members of the Ōtsutsuki clan, upon reaching a certain level—what's called the 'Bloodline Snare'—can create their own dimensions. Kaguya Ōtsutsuki had her own, Yomotsu Hirasaka. During her reign, she was effectively a god within it.
While the Sage of Six Paths never fully reached that level nor opened his Rinne Sharingan, his spiritual power was still far above his brother's. With it, he crafted the Pure Land as both his sanctuary and place of cultivation.
"The soul energy there is denser than even the worlds I've lived in before," Deng Shen said, "richer than any host body or even the Soul Society. It's a treasure trove for someone who understands how to harvest it."
Orochimaru frowned. "Then by that logic, shouldn't there be powerful souls all over the Pure Land? But in our world, we've only ever heard of the Shinigami."
"You're assuming too much," Deng Shen replied with a sly grin. "Very few souls in the Pure Land retain their consciousness. Even legendary figures like Senju Hashirama or Uchiha Madara—with all their strength and spiritual might—fall into a dream-like slumber once inside."
He turned to Orochimaru with a knowing look. "You've heard of the Totsuka Blade, haven't you?"
Orochimaru nodded seriously. "Yes. It's shaped like a sake gourd. It seals enemies by trapping them in an illusion of eternal drunken dreams, then dissolves their existence with the flow of time."
"Exactly," Deng Shen smiled. "The Pure Land is like an oversized Totsuka Blade. And those souls inside? They're not cultivating. They are the cultivation."
His voice turned somber. "Don't mistake the Pure Land for some paradise. Even beings like the Shinigami take freelance jobs on the side—it tells you all you need to know about the kind of existence they live in there."
Orochimaru fell into thought, absorbing every word. After a long silence, he let out a slow breath and said, almost to himself:
"This world… truly has no place of peace."
Although long forgotten by most, Orochimaru once fought for Konoha, for the peace of the ninja world. He too once dreamed of a world without war.
The first time he heard the lamp god mention that the legendary Sage of the Six Paths still lived on in another form within the Pure Land, something stirred in his mind.
With the power of the Sage, wouldn't it be easy to restore peace to the ninja world—or at least maintain the illusion of it?
To Orochimaru, the answer seemed obvious: it shouldn't be difficult at all.
But then why hadn't the Sage done it?
He had no answer back then. Now, however, it was becoming clear.
Peace may bring happiness and tranquility—but it also erodes the very soil from which powerful shinobi grow.
Having spent his life in harsh training and life-or-death battles, Orochimaru understood better than anyone: there was a vast gap between the shinobi forged in times of war and those raised in peace.
From the perspective of the Sage of the Six Paths, perhaps the warriors born of war were more worthy of his legacy.
"I told you before, some emotions are best saved for reminiscing later," the lamp god interrupted coldly, snapping Orochimaru out of his thoughts. "What you need to focus on now isn't sentiment. It's how to steal vegetables from the Sage of the Six Paths' garden. If you think he's playing dirty, you can teach him a lesson later."
Orochimaru's face stiffened. Though annoyed, he couldn't argue. The lamp god had a point—and indulging in sentimentality wasn't in his nature anyway.
As for teaching the Sage of the Six Paths a lesson... Orochimaru didn't rule it out.
Not because of some righteous cause—but for practical reasons.
After all, the Sage currently held control over a vital piece of the ninja world. And if Orochimaru and others couldn't find a new path forward, they'd eventually have to clash with him, just as Konoha couldn't harbor two roots beneath one tree.
Shaking off his lingering thoughts, Orochimaru composed himself. His mind sharpened, and a new idea formed.
"The Spirit Transformation Technique… if I use it to convert my chakra into a soul form, I might be able to enter the Pure Land."
"But there's a problem…" Orochimaru looked up at the lamp god. "I can't use the Spirit Transformation Technique."
Konoha had existed for decades, yet only a handful of shinobi had ever mastered that technique. The most recent was Kato Dan.
Orochimaru had once been close friends with Dan and had studied the technique extensively. After days of attempting it himself, he was forced to accept the truth—he couldn't learn it.
That said, he hadn't walked away empty-handed. He'd drawn inspiration from the technique for his chakra-splitting rituals, the Reanimation Jutsu, and other soul-based experiments.
"Then things just got a little more complicated," the lamp god muttered, rubbing his chin. He hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Are you thinking of making a second wish already? Tsk, tsk. You haven't even paid off the first one."
Orochimaru remained silent. If he had a choice, he wouldn't want to rely on the lamp god again.
But he knew his limits. His understanding of the soul was shallow at best.
The incredible feat of soul division the lamp god described wasn't something Orochimaru had achieved through knowledge—it had stemmed from his own unique biology.
Creating a low-risk, systematic form of soul ninjutsu from scratch would take time—possibly more time than he had.
The deeper his research went, the more reverent he became toward true knowledge. And he knew: if he couldn't do it, he couldn't fake it. It wasn't just a matter of effort—it was a matter of understanding.
And so, he reluctantly turned to the lamp god once more.
Of course, the fact that his previous debts remained unpaid made it easier. When the lice are many, one no longer itches. When the debts are great, a few more don't matter.
He looked at the lamp god, waiting for a response.
At that moment, a ninja approached Orochimaru.
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