Just as he finished charging and prepared to leap, the feathers struck him. Fine wounds appeared, stinging sharply.
"How is that possible?" Fourth Raikage stiffened. "Those things can actually do this?" At that moment, the others rushed out of the Lie.
Aside from Yugito Nii and the Kumogakure Ninja, everyone else paled when they saw Fourth Raikage. "Run!"
With a shout, they scattered in all directions. Fourth Raikage moved to pursue, only to find the broken wind swirling around him had transformed into countless blades.
The shrill howl of the wind surrounded him as the blades raked across his chest, neck, and head. "Annoying!"
Though they did little damage, they stirred his anger, veins bulging on his forehead as a savage aura burst from him. With a roar, the wind blades were blasted away.
When he looked up again, Ryuji Hyuga was gone, and so were the others. Even the badly wounded Zhe Long had vanished. The raging Lightning Release Chakra around Fourth Raikage hummed as he breathed heavily, his fury barely contained.
Soon, he forced himself to calm down and realized he had been provoked into loss of composure. "Yugito Nii!"
He turned sharply toward Yugito Nii and the other Kumogakure Ninja. "Send people to chase those who took the items, and notify the Ninja units stationed in the Land of Moon to guard against aerial movement." That kid from the Hyuga Clan was up to something, and he intended to find out.
"Ugh… cough… cough…"
A suppressed, painful groan echoed through the deep, damp corridor, hoarse as if his lungs were being torn apart by a Lie. The sound bounced off the narrow stone passage, carrying misery with every breath.
This place was an entrance known only to Zhe Long himself, a path that no one else in the entire Jashin Cult knew existed. Even within the Akatsuki, it was a secret buried in darkness.
The air was thick with a stench like blood that had soaked into stone for years without ever fully drying. Torches were set into the walls at intervals, their flames flickering weakly.
The unsteady firelight cast dim yellow shadows that looked ready to be swallowed by the darkness at any moment. Wherever the light passed, ugly scratch marks and dark red bloodstains could be seen on the walls and floor.
It was clear that countless people had been dragged in here alive by Zhe Long. Today, however, it was finally his turn.
"Live… cough… I will not die…"
Barely recognizable as human, Zhe Long clung to the cold, slick wall with his one remaining arm. Inch by inch, he dragged himself forward through the darkness.
Beneath him, a dark red smear like the trail of a crawling reptile stretched forward under the torchlight, releasing a strong smell of blood. Every movement shifted broken bones and shredded organs inside his chest, inflicting agony that would make an ordinary person faint instantly.
Even Zhe Long, long used to pain, could not stop his muscles from spasming as blood foam spilled from the corner of his mouth. The healing power granted by the so called Evil God acted like the most vicious shackle, forcibly keeping his shattered body from collapsing completely.
An intense will to survive became the only force driving Zhe Long forward. It was the last thing he had left.
"Hah… hah… Lord Jashin… will bless me…"
The hoarse muttering rolled out of Zhe Long's throat like sandpaper scraping stone. His eyes were unfocused from pain and blood loss, with only a flicker of madness trembling deep in his pupils.
At last, he reached the end of the corridor and used the final trace of strength in his body to push open the heavy hidden door above. With a muffled grunt, he crawled out of the narrow, slippery passage and collapsed onto the cold floor like a pile of rotten mud.
Rather than a secret chamber, the room looked more like a laboratory. It reeked of mixed medicinal chemicals and blood.
Harsh shadowless lights shone down from the ceiling, bathing every corner in pale white glare. On a scarred operating table lay dark red Madara clots, old and new layered together.
Scalpels, bone saws, and oddly shaped piercing tools were neatly arranged inside sterilization cabinets. Dense tubes and clear drainage bottles were tangled everywhere like a spider web.
Transparent glass jars held various human organs floating in liquid. If Orochimaru were here, he would surely feel at home.
This was clearly a laboratory used to develop human Forbidden Technique. At the center of the room, beneath the brightest light, lay its core.
On a cold, heavy operating bed, a figure was completely restrained. The thin, frail body was bound tightly, with deep marks cutting into the skin of the wrists and ankles.
Under the direct light, his face was pale almost to transparency, capillaries clearly visible. It was a sickly wax white, the result of long term confinement and blood loss.
Hearing the noise, he turned his head toward the sound, his purple eyes empty and strange. "Cult Leader?"
He stared at Zhe Long writhing weakly on the floor like a maggot, with none of the emotion someone his age should have. There was no fear, no concern, only blank observation.
"Hidan…"
The pain twisted face of Zhe Long stiffened as he remembered that this "material" was still in his laboratory. Though he had founded the Jashin Cult, he trusted none of its followers, knowing well how vile and fanatical they were.
However, seeing Hidan's restrained, skeletal body made his tension fade instantly. The so called immortality worshiped by the cult had always been framed by him as a gift from the Evil God.
In truth, it was merely an accidental product of Forbidden Technique experiments, paired with Jujutsu and Death Possession Blood. The conditions for completing such experiments were brutal, requiring extreme willpower that even he could not endure.
Only this youth from Yugakure, who sought battle so fiercely that he willingly joined the Jashin Cult, fit the requirements. Young, unhinged, and obsessively devoted to Lord Jashin, he was also the fastest progressing subject and likely the first successful case.
"Hah, you saw me like this, kid…"
Zhe Long forced himself to stand and sneered. "Looks like I cannot leave you alive. Such a shame, just one step away. Blame your bad luck."
Dragging the scythe he had obtained from the Underground Palace, he scraped it across the floor as he approached the operating table. He had many medicines to treat his wounds, and with them he could still repair his body.
The experiment subject was valuable, but he would not risk someone being nearby while he recovered. Yet Hidan looked at the wheezing Zhe Long without any expression.
There was no fear, no pleading, not even confusion. His eyes held only pure, straightforward scrutiny, like someone studying a dying insect he had never seen before.
"Cult Leader," he asked calmly. "What are you afraid of? Did you not say we meet Lord Jashin after death? Then why are you afraid now?"
Zhe Long met his gaze, and the pain in his body was nearly drowned by surging fury. The Jashin Cult was his private domain.
Hidan was nothing more than expendable material under his control. He would not allow himself to be stared at like this by the lowest of tools.
"Hehehe!" Zhe Long laughed in rage. "Very well. I will let you feel pain one last time, so you can be close to the Evil God."
He released the scythe and grabbed Hidan's slender fingers, snapping them with sharp cracks. At that moment, he felt the restrained wrist tense.
Then it twisted.
A horrifying sound of muscle and tendon tearing filled the room. With a series of wet cracks, the wrist was nearly twisted apart, bones shattered, freeing it from the restraints.
"What?" Zhe Long's grin froze in shock.
Before he could react, Hidan's freed arm slammed into him. Already badly injured, Zhe Long was caught completely off guard and staggered backward.
He crashed into a metal rack of surgical tools, sending instruments clattering across the floor. As Zhe Long stared in stunned pain, Hidan's pale face began to twitch.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly, as if testing an unfamiliar expression. Then, like ice suddenly shattering, the smile spread wide.
"Ha…"
A short gasp escaped his throat, turning into shrill, unhinged laughter. "Hahahahahahaha!"
The laughter came without warning, twisted to the extreme. With a loud snap, the restraint on his other arm was torn apart, exposing torn flesh and white bone.
"Cult Leader."
Hidan sat up on the operating table and grinned at Zhe Long. "At this point, do you really think pain like this can still hurt me?"
He swung himself down from the table, his bony feet touching the cold floor. His gaze was drawn to the discarded scythe, and he bent down awkwardly to grip its handle.
The moment his fingers touched it, a memory forced its way into his mind. His vision turned into an endless, sticky sea of blood woven from violence, cruelty, and endless screams.
A shadowy figure sat upon a pale throne of bone, holding a scythe. Its eyes held no emotion, only cold disregard for all life, as if only death interested it.
"Hah… hahaha!"
The laughter burst out again, now filled with wild joy and fanatic devotion. "Lord Jashin! So it is real!"
He finally understood and finally saw it. In his twisted worldview, that figure perfectly matched his idea of a god.