In reality, Orochimaru's newly acquired power, even with the Mordigian's Armband, was still profoundly inferior to Tsunade's current strength. Under normal circumstances, he would never have attempted such a suicidal action.
However, the rapid influx of chaotic, dark knowledge and the corrosive influence of the Evil God's aura had overwhelmed his already severely damaged mental state.
In essence, Orochimaru had momentarily lost his mind. This level of extreme vulnerability was something Shen Mo had not fully anticipated. He had miscalculated the allure of the Necromancer materials and their power to inflame the hidden darkness within an already compromised mind.
Yet, escaping the grasp of true darkness offered immense potential rewards.
In that moment, Orochimaru was still struggling violently, his face a mask of agony and profound resentment. Despite the hopelessness of his situation, his entire body bleeding from the invisible pressure, he fought with a desperate tenacity that refused to yield.
Shen Mo simply watched, his posture relaxed, his arms folded.
"There is one essential qualification for a new merchant who travels the infinite worlds, and that is—" Shen Mo's voice cut through Orochimaru's consciousness with perfect, crystal clarity, delivering four thunderous words: "Respect for Eternity."
Orochimaru's pupils began to tremble. A momentary flash of clarity pierced the dark fog clouding his mind.
"An infinite world represents infinite possibilities," Shen Mo continued, slowly pacing behind the struggling figure. "The Evil God you thought was invincible might be nothing more than a child's toy in the eyes of others. If you cannot maintain respect for eternity, your journey ends here. After all, why do you truly pursue immortality?"
The final question struck Orochimaru's soul like a divine hammer blow.
Why?
He was a man defined by his goals. His pursuit of immortality was merely the means to an end: to attain the knowledge and power that one lifespan could never yield. That was his genuine, core purpose.
"Raaah!"
Orochimaru screamed, his soul sea shuddering violently. The conflicting personalities—the warmth of his past, the despair of his villainy, the chaos of his present—began to violently clash and blend.
A nearly imperceptible smile touched Shen Mo's lips.
He retracted his overwhelming pressure, abruptly releasing Orochimaru.
The Sannin collapsed into a heap, convulsing with feral intensity. His desire for the Evil God's power, his core quest for immortality, and the vestiges of his former self wrestled within his consciousness.
"It is merely an Evil God!" Orochimaru managed to roar, grinding his teeth. "It shall not seize my will!"
This is not the destiny I seek!
With his last remaining conscious effort, he seized the crimson armband with his left hand, pulling with agonizing force.
The material of the armband tore away, taking large strips of his already corrupted skin with it. A chaotic, high-pitched whisper of frustration echoed from the fallen artifact.
Orochimaru lost all strength.
The armband dropped to the earth, its infernal red light flickering and dying. Orochimaru lay gasping, unable even to coordinate his breathing. The Mordigian's Armband had efficiently drained him down to the bare minimum of life force.
He felt his soul lift, airy and detached, ready to separate from his destroyed body.
Termination of the contract.
"Those who seize strength from the grave are truly vulnerable; a single lapse in control, and death claims them entirely," Orochimaru thought, a cold regret washing over him in his final moments.
He had resolved to control death, but he was prepared to face it. He closed his eyes.
Ten seconds passed. He was not dead.
He snapped his eyes open, and there was Shen Mo, still smiling faintly.
"Did you... save me?"
Orochimaru felt enough strength return to speak, and he weakly pushed himself up. Only this mysterious merchant could grant such an impossible miracle.
"I did not save you," Shen Mo replied, his smile widening. "Your Jar balance remains open."
Orochimaru glanced at the remaining hundreds of Tier Two Jars, then back at Shen Mo.
"Fine. I saved you," Shen Mo conceded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You still possess potential worth preserving. Otherwise, you would have been annihilated the moment you attacked me."
Orochimaru's deathly pale face broke into a genuine, if weak, smile. "Is that another essential quality for a merchant?"
"No," Shen Mo shook his head, his tone hardening with meaning. "That is simply my personal preference. I am willing to grant potential people a second chance. But had you not fought to break free on your own, death would have been your only fate."
Shen Mo had no intention of concealing his personal involvement. Allowing a resource-generating genius like Orochimaru to die over a fleeting lapse in judgment would be wasteful.
"I never thought there was anyone waiting for my development," Orochimaru murmured, his smile deepening. "Perhaps fate has not entirely abandoned me, given the merchant I happened to encounter."
Shen Mo raised an eyebrow. He clearly sensed a profound philosophical shift in Orochimaru's spirit.
For one who seeks power in the dark, the experience of descending into the shadows and consciously rejecting them is a transformative development. Orochimaru, through this ordeal, had found a new resolve.
He will likely follow a completely different path than the original timeline.
Shen Mo was quietly expectant, but kept his outward demeanor calm.
"Continue opening the Jars. Your destiny lies within."
"Kabuto Yakushi." Orochimaru weakly reached out a hand. "Assist me."
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru."
Kabuto, covered in dust and still reeling, rushed over. He looked at Shen Mo with palpable unease, then helped support the ghost-like Orochimaru.
The Jar opening resumed.
The contents remained largely the same—Necromantic materials, dark knowledge, and legacies.
But Shen Mo observed Orochimaru's spirit closely. Though still frail, it was steadily gaining strength. The black fog that had descended was slowly being replaced by the former neutral gray.
It seemed that even with the Necromancer specialization, Orochimaru would never fully succumb to the raw, uncontrolled power of evil again. This was a valuable evolution.
"Regardless of what others believe," Shen Mo said softly, his gaze fixed on the Jars, "truly exceptional researchers of sorcery see themselves as brave and singular individuals, for they wield the darkest power without ever being controlled by the darkness itself."