When Orochimaru heard Wen Lan say that, the killing intent he had just begun to stir instantly dissipated.
At first, he had thought Wen Lan was soft-hearted after seeing the human experiments. If that were the case, he would have been prepared to risk everything to kill Wen Lan and seize his flesh and blood.
But Wen Lan's words afterward excited him instead—and made him realize that Wen Lan was right.
He had been obsessively researching in a single direction. Perhaps taking a few days to rest would spark a different line of inspiration and allow him to break through the bottleneck.
The corners of Orochimaru's mouth lifted slightly, a rare trace of gentleness flashing through his eyes.
"Then I'll have to thank you, Master Wen Lan."
Wen Lan stood up and shook his head. "Orochimaru sir, I—"
Orochimaru waved his hand. "Master Wen Lan, in front of you, I'm no longer some 'sir.' My immortality still depends on you. Just call me by my name."
Wen Lan paused slightly, then didn't insist.
"Orochimaru, our goals are the same. I may be immortal, but what I really want is to protect the people around me. Within one year, you must crack this problem. It'll be good for you, for me, and for everyone."
"I understand!" Orochimaru let out a sinister laugh.
After leaving Orochimaru's residence, Wen Lan walked along a dim forest path, eventually arriving near the Uchiha compound. After a moment's thought, he turned and headed for the prison.
Deep within the prison, there was not a sound. The guards did not stop Wen Lan.
Instead, they respectfully lowered their heads and stepped aside. After entering, he passed through a room reserved for Uchiha personnel to rest and provide support. Five people were inside.
When they saw Wen Lan, they immediately stood up.
"Third Elder."
After the battle against Kirigakure, Wen Lan's strength, his ruthless tactics, and especially his feat of cleaving a Tailed Beast Bomb—saving countless lives—had ensured that no Uchiha dared underestimate this five-year-old child.
"Two of you, come with me. Take me to see Danzō."
The five instantly scrambled, eager to serve Wen Lan.
Wen Lan looked at them helplessly, then simply took all five along.
The dim corridor was lit only by flickering torches, their crackling the sole sound. On both sides, death-row prisoners curled up in their cells. Hearing footsteps, they didn't even look up—their eyes were filled only with numbness and despair.
They descended to the third underground level—the deepest part of the prison. Every cell here was sealed with airtight, chakra-suppressing metal doors.
As the heavy iron door slowly opened, a wave of icy air rushed out.
Danzō's hunched figure sat in the corner, looking as miserable as a man could be. After returning from the Land of Rain, he had never dried off. His soaked clothes clung tightly to his withered body, frost forming thinly around his feet.
All his former power and authority were gone.
His right arm had been severed cleanly at the shoulder. The stump was wrapped in darkened bandages, faintly oozing pus and blood.
He slowly raised his remaining left arm, trying to shield his eye from the harsh torchlight. In that single eye flickered resentment and unwillingness.
When he saw Wen Lan, there was no furious roaring, no venomous curses—only a twisted smile.
"You came… In the end, you still won."
His voice was hoarse like a dying ember, yet carried an eerie calm.
Wen Lan sneered lightly.
"You don't seriously think pretending to behave will make me let you off, do you? Everything you've done to the Uchiha clan over the years—I haven't forgotten a single thing."
Danzō's pupil contracted slightly as he narrowed his eye.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing much. I'm a soft-hearted person—I hate seeing people suffer."
He then said to an Uchiha clansman beside him, "Go buy a cup of milk tea."
The clansman froze, but quickly left.
The entire prison fell into deathly silence.
Before long, the ninja returned at a run, holding a cup of milk tea.
Wen Lan took it, gently blew away the steam, then flicked his ninja blade. A lock of hair from Danzō's head landed on the blade. Wen Lan slashed rapidly, mincing the hair into tiny fragments that fell into the milk tea.
"Danzō, today I'm treating you to a cup of milk tea. It has a name—Judicial Milk Tea.
I wonder how long someone like you, who still retains a ninja's physique, can endure it?"
His eyes turned cold as he handed the cup to the clansman beside him.
"Pour it down his throat."
Seeing the approaching Uchiha ninja, Danzō panicked. He didn't know what this so-called judicial milk tea was, but he knew it couldn't be anything good.
He tried to struggle, but he was far too weak. Two ninjas held him down and forced it into him.
The milk tea poured down his throat. Danzō choked violently. After it was finished, he clawed at his throat, trying to vomit it out.
Wen Lan said calmly,
"Don't waste your effort. The milk tea was just to help those hair fragments go down smoothly. The broken hairs will lodge in your stomach and intestines, impossible to digest.
"They'll tangle inside your gut, causing endless agony. Over time, they'll mix with food residue, forming clumps that block your intestines.
"The more you struggle, the more active your digestive system becomes—and the deeper they'll pierce.
"This isn't a fatal punishment. It's an unending torment, just like every hidden scheme and betrayal you set against the Uchiha clan back then.
"Now it's your turn to experience that day-after-day agony."
Danzō's face twisted in pain, cold sweat pouring down his temples.
The Uchiha clansmen nearby, who had initially not understood the method, turned pale upon hearing Wen Lan's explanation and instinctively took several steps back.
This is a living King of Hell!
How did he even come up with something this vicious?!
Terrifying—utterly terrifying!
They silently vowed to warn their families: never, ever provoke the Third Elder.
Wen Lan stood in the dim cell, his gaze as calm as a frozen abyss.
Clutching his stomach as stabbing pain spread, Danzō glared at Wen Lan and roared,
"Uchiha Wen Lan—you won't die well!"
"Whether I die or not," Wen Lan replied with a strange smile, "you know that better than anyone."
Danzō recalled Wen Lan's horrifying regenerative ability, his face growing even uglier.
"Enjoy it," Wen Lan said lightly. "Our esteemed Hokage's Aide."
He turned and walked out of the cell, adding to the Uchiha guards,
"For the time being, aside from delivering food and water, don't come to the third level. Don't let him die."
"Yes, Third Elder!" The five responded in unison.
The cell door slowly closed, iron bars slicing Danzō's twisted face into fragments.
Wen Lan's footsteps never hesitated, boots echoing across the stone corridor as the sound faded away.
Behind him, the third level filled with Danzō's screams and curses—but to Wen Lan's ears, they sounded almost pleasant.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, as if listening to a long-lost melody. Every cry of pain was a reckoning for past sins.
Wen Lan walked out of the dungeon at an unhurried pace. The night wind swept through the corridor. He brushed his sleeves and looked up at the pitch-black sky.
There was no moon tonight—only the wind howling softly through dead branches.
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