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22.txt
Orochimaru's strike sent Qianyu flying.
"Your ability to adapt in the heat of battle is lacking," the Sannin's voice cut through the clearing, cold and analytical. "Many opportunities presented themselves. You failed to seize them."
Qianyu gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. To better track the monster's movements, he activated his Sharingan. The crimson lenses spun, locking onto Orochimaru.
The Sannin held a kunai loosely. Then he moved. A straight, terrifyingly simple charge.
Now!
"Thunder Breathing: Third Formâ Swarm of Thunder!"
Qianyu shot forward, a blue vortex of lightning whirling around Orochimaru. Wave-like arcs of electricity crackled in his wake, aiming to entrap and electrocute.
But something was wrong.
Where Orochimaru's body touched the crackling blue waves, his skin⊠changed. It faded to a dull, earthy gray. Then it crumbled. Melted into a pile of mud.
Qianyu's blood ran cold.
An earth clone?!
When did he�
He'd been watching him the whole time! No⊠Not the whole time. During the lecture, his focus had wavered for just a second. That was it. That was all he needed.
A hand clamped around his ankle.
Cold. Unyielding.
Qianyu looked down.
Orochimaru was there, rising from the earth, pulling him down. His blood ran cold. Move!
"Thunder Breathing: Second Formâ Rice Spirit!"
Five lightning-quick slashes in a jagged pattern. The ground erupted where he stood, carving a ragged crater. But Orochimaru was gone, melted back into the earth.
Qianyu stood his ground, panting, senses screaming. Where? Where is he? Searching blindly would only create an opening. Defense. Counterattack. That was the only way.
The pressure was immense. Orochimaru was holding backâno, he was playing. But even playing, the Sannin was a mountain. Winning wasn't the goal. Survival was. Learning was.
A voice echoed, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Many Hidden Shadow Snake Hands."
Snakes. Hundreds of them, pouring from the trees, the grass, the very earth. They surrounded him, hissing, closing in, a living, slithering wall.
Qianyu tightened his grip on his tachi. No hesitation.
"Thunder Breathing: Third Formâ Swarm of Thunder!"
Again, he became a storm of blue light, zipping along the perimeter. Snakes in his path fried instantly, filling the air with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh. But his Sharingan never stopped scanning. Find him. Find the source.
There. At the very back of the serpent horde on his right. Orochimaru stood, arms crossed, watching him with that unnerving, scientific curiosity.
Qianyu skidded to a halt. He took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing every ounce of chakra he could muster into his blade. The blue lightning around his tachi intensified, blazing white-hot. The crackle became a deafening roar.
"Thunder Breathing: Fifth Formâ Heat Lightning!"
He swung. Not at a target in front of him, but into the air.
A blade of searing, white-hot lightning erupted from his swing, screaming toward Orochimaru.
The Sannin's eyes narrowed. He didn't block. He didn't counter. His body simply blurred, vanishing with a Body Flicker an instant before the attack hit.
The Heat Lightning struck an ancient tree.
The trunk didn't just breakâit vaporized. The upper half of the tree exploded into splinters, the rest engulfed in roaring flames. The ground where the lightning had passed was scarred black, soil turned to glass, smoldering.
Orochimaru reappeared a safe distance away, his gaze fixed on the destruction. This technique⊠its power and speed far surpassed the earlier forms. But the cost was evident.
Qianyu braced a hand on his thigh, breathing hard. His chakra reserves had grown significantlyâthe Witness had already rated them at three-fifths of a Sharingan-active Kakashiâbut they were still draining fast. A normal Heat Lightning? He could manage three, maybe four shots at most. That last one, supercharged by desperation and the glimpse of an opening, had taken a massive toll. And still, it wasn't enough.
Orochimaru walked forward, his expression unreadable. "Have you reached your limit?"
Qianyu forced himself upright, meeting that golden gaze. "I have one more move left!"
"Is that so?" Orochimaru stopped, waiting. "Then show me."
Qianyu sheathed his tachi. He dropped into a low stance, knees bent, body coiled like a spring.
Orochimaru raised a slender eyebrow. "That is the preparatory stance for your First Form, is it not? You are aware its openings are significant. Against me, it is useless."
Blue electricity sparked to life around Qianyu's arms and legs. "No. This one is different."
"Oh?" A flicker of genuine interest crossed Orochimaru's face. "I shall watch with anticipation."
He had read the complete scroll of Thunder Breathing sword forms Qianyu had submitted to the village. An excellent taijutsu-ninjutsu hybrid, certainly. But only the First Form began like this. And there was another curious point. Other lightning-natured ninja had tried to learn it. Even chunin. Yet none could match the raw speed and presence Qianyu displayed. Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor, had initially judged the first five forms as B-rank at best.
But in this boy's hands⊠they felt like A-rank. Especially that Heat Lightning.
The Sannin's eyes didn't waver. A natural genius with lightning? A perfect compatibility? Or did he hold back the true essence in the scrolls? Let us see this 'different' First Form.
"Thunder Breathing: First Form⊠Thunderclap and FlashâŠ" Qianyu's voice was a low hum of voltage.
He vanished.
Not just speedâan eruption of pure force. The ground where he'd stood cracked. Orochimaru's eyes widened a fraction as he blurred, using the Body Flicker to retreat.
But Qianyu's Sharingan tracked him, locked on, the crimson lenses spinning.
His foot slammed against a tree trunk. He didn't slow. He redirected, using the momentum to pivot and launch himself again at the Sannin.
"âSixfold!"
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