Using Transformation Jutsu, Shirohebi transformed into his adult form and entered Orochimaru's secret boratory.

  The Root ninjas guarding the door didn’t stop him. To them, Shirohebi was no stranger.

  Once inside the b, he dispelled the transformation and used the "Erase Face Technique" to change his appearance.

  The face he now wore was just as ordinary as his previous one.

  However, unlike his true face, this one belonged to a teenager who looked about fifteen or sixteen. Coupled with his deliberately deepened voice, it gave him the appearance of an adult with a baby face, or perhaps a young man whose voice had aged prematurely.

  At his current height of about 1.6 meters, it didn’t seem out of pce.

  Who says adults can't be a little shorter? After all, he was taller than Captain Levi—by a whole... um, 0.1 millimeters?

  The reason for choosing this face was simple: he didn’t want to reveal that he was still just a child barely over ten years old.

  Unfortunately, when he first transmigrated, his body had already started shrinking.

  But once it became clear he was a “child,” unwanted attention would be inevitable.

  Orochimaru and Danzo were both secretive figures, and even if they took notice of him, Shirohebi didn’t mind as long as he stayed hidden in the shadows.

  But his impression of Sarutobi Hiruzen, that old monkey, was less favorable. The man had an unusual fondness for children.

  If Sarutobi noticed his potential and brought him into the spotlight, things could get dangerous.

  If anyone figured out his real identity and recognized him as an S-rank fugitive with a massive bounty from the five great nations, it would be far more likely that he’d be captured before he could escape. His current weakness made that possibility all too real.

  Though he’d disguised himself thoroughly, even changing the original face of the body he had taken over, the shinobi world had some pretty unreasonable jutsu.

  The oil-based insects of the Yamanaka cn and the dogs of the Inuzuka cn were particurly troublesome to Shirohebi’s eyes.

  Fortunately, his chakra and scent hadn’t been recorded by those two cns yet.

  Lying on the experimental table, he repeatedly checked himself in the reflective surface. Once he confirmed there were no issues, he lowered the mask slightly and exhaled, then stood up.

  His body swayed for a moment, and everything in his vision began to double.

  Bzzz...

  The buzzing sound in his ears intensified.

  "Genjutsu? Did Orochimaru discover my identity? Or is Danzo reacting to the wood-style chakra?" he wondered. "That shouldn’t be…"

  Though his head throbbed painfully, Shirohebi didn’t stop. He quickly pulled out an explosive cy scroll.

  At the same time, a translucent “Element Bottle” appeared in front of him.

  Suddenly, his pupils dited.

  According to his calcutions, after a good night’s rest, his Element Bottle should have five supply points.

  And indeed, it had five, but the st vial, which represented the points, was covered in cracks, looking like it could shatter at any moment.

  Without hesitation, Shirohebi immediately understood what was going on.

  This wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened. Back when he first transmigrated and had torn apart and absorbed the original soul, this had occurred often.

  Back then, it wasn’t as severe, because his soul wasn’t as shattered as it was now.

  But as his injuries had worsened time and again, his chakra had steadily dwindled, and his supply points had reduced to five.

  It was the soul injury he sustained during transmigration—an injury that was almost impossible to heal.

  This condition had started improving about a year ago. He had felt his chakra gradually increasing, but now, it had fred up again.

  The remaining five supply points were likely his countdown to death.

  His life was like a candle in the wind.

  Shirohebi’s breath became heavy as the images before him doubled and his vision slowly darkened.

  He colpsed helplessly to the ground.

  His eyelids grew heavy.

  ...

  When his eyes opened again, he found himself lying back in his own room, in his own bed.

  Shirohebi turned his head and looked at the long-haired man sitting in a chair. "Orochimaru-sama."

  "Are you aware of your condition?" Orochimaru's voice remained cold.

  Shirohebi frowned, pretending to think before shaking his head, confused.

  As a successful experimental subject, though Orochimaru had taught him some things, there were still many complicated aspects of the soul that he shouldn’t understand.

  "Your soul... Simply put, the source of your mental energy is in trouble."

  Orochimaru's tone held no comfort, only stating the fact indifferently.

  Shirohebi's pupils widened, frozen, and he hoarsely asked, "Will you save me?"

  Orochimaru interlocked his fingers and leaned back slightly.

  "I can't save you. This isn’t an illness. There are very few cases like yours in the entire shinobi world. I can only make this judgment because I’ve done some research in this area."

  Shirohebi understood, but he had to think of a way to save himself. Having survived countless near-death experiences, it would be a tragic end if he were to die from soul injuries inflicted during transmigration.

  "Then, Orochimaru-sama, let me serve you in whatever way I can."

  Orochimaru thought for a moment, then spoke coldly.

  "If anyone in this world can save you, it would be the granddaughter of the First Hokage from Konoha, Tsunade-sama."

  "Though she cims she no longer heals others, she owes me a favor. If I ask, she might help you."

  Was that the truth? Or a test?

  Shirohebi didn’t hesitate and shook his head. "No need, Orochimaru-sama. Use that favor on someone who will be more useful to you."

  Shirohebi knew that Tsunade couldn’t save him. Her medical ninjutsu was based on Yang chakra, which could only heal physical injuries.

  As for mental injuries? Tsunade couldn’t even heal her own, so how could she heal his soul?

  "Is that your decision..." Orochimaru murmured before nodding. "I understand."

  He stood up and left. For some reason, Shirohebi felt that his gaze had turned colder.

  But Shirohebi’s answer should have been perfect.

  It was the ideal response from a loyal subordinate, one who fully prioritized Orochimaru’s interests.

  His answer was inspired by Kimimaro’s actions in the original story.

  After Orochimaru left, Shirohebi touched the face beneath his mask.

  It wasn’t too bad. At least Orochimaru hadn’t removed his new face while he was unconscious.

  He pulled back the curtains, revealing a darkened sky—it was already night.

  Shirohebi slipped on his slippers and, though his steps were a little stiff, he walked into the living room.

  He could hear the sounds of frying from the kitchen—Orochimaru was cooking.

  Shirohebi didn’t speak again, but instead turned the corner and sat down at the dining table, silently waiting for the meal, praying it wouldn’t be his st supper.

  It wasn’t often that both he and Orochimaru were at home, with Orochimaru cooking dinner.

  Back when his soul injuries had been unstable, he often pretended to suffer negative reactions from his "Hashirama cell transpnt," using it as an excuse to stay in his room.

  About ten minutes ter, Orochimaru brought two ptes of stir-fried vegetables and two bowls of rice to the table.

  Shirohebi picked up his chopsticks and, after saying "I’m starting," began to eat.

  Orochimaru didn’t pick up his chopsticks. After a long pause, he suddenly asked:

  "Does the damage to your soul have something to do with your ability to control the 'explosive cy'?"

  Orochimaru remembered that about two years ago, Shirohebi would sometimes hide in his room due to physical discomfort.

  Because he was aware of the fws in Shirohebi’s body as an experimental subject for the Hashirama cells, he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

  But now it seemed there might be a connection, as after that time, Shirohebi had gradually shown this peculiar talent.

  Shirohebi answered calmly, his expression unchanged, "I don’t know."

  But internally, he was anything but calm.

  He knew that even though Orochimaru hadn’t directly asked, he still harbored suspicions about his identity.

  Please don’t melt my fake face... don’t make me use my abilities again.

  Fortunately, Orochimaru didn’t react further, only lowering his head to begin eating.

  Shirohebi couldn’t help but acknowledge that Orochimaru still maintained a basic level of respect for his subordinates.

  Due to Shirohebi’s fear of having his face revealed, Orochimaru wasn’t inclined to dissolve his fake face easily.

  Just as Shirohebi finished dinner and was preparing to clean the dishes, a masked figure knocked on the window.

  Knocking on windows meant it was Root. Knocking on doors meant it was the Anbu. Orochimaru always followed this pattern.

  "Must be for me," Shirohebi said as he stood up from the table.

  Danzo never contacted Orochimaru so directly.

  Orochimaru began to clear the table. "You can refuse missions you don’t want to do."

  "I understand." Shirohebi went back to his room, changed into his Root uniform, and vanished from the room.