Chapitre 80: Chapter 80 : Black Market
Orochimaru descended the staircase, pausing briefly to contemplate, before donning a mask that concealed a significant portion of his visage.
This mask, a Horcrux of sorts, didn't possess any overt supernatural abilities. Its unique quality lay in its capacity to obscure one's aura and, in tandem with its inherent enchantment, ensure that the wearer remained unidentifiable.
For a shinobi, even those of the kage-level powerhouses, amassing a sum of one or two hundred million ryo constituted a substantial fortune.
While individual sleuths, whether Anbu from Konoha or operatives from other villages, might attempt to investigate the location independently and the risk of discovery was substantial.
Navigating down the aging stairs, the walls displayed signs of wear and tear, with patches of discoloration—stains of red blood that bore witness to prior conflicts.
The feeble yellow light emitted by kerosene lamps elongated Orochimaru's silhouette, casting a dark, serpentine figure that meandered downward. Nonetheless, the cacophony of boisterous exchanges below created an atmosphere akin to a bustling marketplace.
As Orochimaru descended, he found himself amidst a gathering of approximately sixty to seventy individuals. Among them, some were attired in samurai garb, others bore the forehead protector of small ninja villages, concealed amid the shadows much like Orochimaru, veiling their identities.
Amongst these figures, a few engaged in wine-fueled discussions of trade, others negotiated for missions, while certain individuals peddled wares of varying natures—all activities naturally subjected to taxation.
A smattering of attendants, around seven or eight, were present as well. One figure, a middle-aged man exuding an air of gloom, seemed to possess the demeanour of a Jonin-level operative.
Upon Orochimaru's descent, initial glances were cast his way by nearly half of the assembly, but the majority swiftly returned their attention to their respective concerns.
A newcomer, likely perceived as merely another face in the crowd, failed to engender substantial interest among the assembly. Two flanking Jonin-level individuals, however, regarded Orochimaru skeptically, intuition hinting at an enigma in their midst.
Yet, the establishment of a black market in such close proximity to the Land of Fire wasn't an endeavour undertaken lightly. The intricate machinations of the locale even extended to clandestine dealings that indirectly aided Konoha. No participant was foolish enough to incite disruptions here.
Indeed, a time existed when an aspiring ninja of quasi-kage caliber, eager for profit, had ventured out only to meet an untimely demise, a cautionary tale that resonated.
Those harbouring ill intent were either unsuited for entry or met grim fates, their aspirations forever extinguished.
Choosing an unobtrusive corner, Orochimaru sat in quiet contemplation, surveying the diverse characters and acquainting himself with the locale's structure and protocols.
Access to the black market necessitated an introduction by an established member, the newcomer's identity meticulously recorded. Mishaps would entail repercussions for both the initiate and the introducer, with deposited assets subject to confiscation.
Orochimaru, operating within the capacity of Konoha's Anbu, found himself poised to navigate these challenges. After all, Konoha maintained a covert "directorship" over these affairs.
"Little brother, is this your first venture? Your presence does not go unnoticed," a seductive figure clad in a vibrant kimono approached Orochimaru, clogs whispering against the ground. Her playful visage bore an impish smile directed at Orochimaru.
Despite her enticing perfume, its allure masked by Orochimaru's honed senses, an undercurrent of blood taint remained indiscernible. She, too, bore the disposition of an attendant, her actions orchestrated by a hidden agent behind the scenes.
Suppressing a degree of distaste, Orochimaru glanced at her, his scrutiny revealing her to be akin to the mercenaries nearby, focused on profit to the exclusion of integrity.
"I am a newcomer, seeking acquisitions and perhaps missions," Orochimaru asserted, releasing a restrained Chakra surge that surpassed Chunin standards, intentionally unveiling the Konoha forehead protector adorning his brow.
Startled glances darted towards him, only to pivot away just as swiftly within the bustling atmosphere. Amid the multitude, the proclamation of a Konoha Chunin served to dissuade the less audacious.
A silent agreement dictated the black market's principle—abstain from disrupting trade within these walls. However, ventures beyond the enclave remained beyond the market's purview.
Seated in a shadowed corner, Orochimaru's contemplative gaze roved the assemblage, his observations yielding insight into the prevailing dynamics.
"The esteemed gentleman should not be so grave. Should you require assistance, feel free to seek sister's counsel," the attendant purred, a beguiling grin accompanying her proposition. A caress intended for Orochimaru's shoulder was swiftly sidestepped, revealing an ornate porcelain mask concealing his features.
"Hmph," Orochimaru retorted icily, avoiding her touch and retaining a frosty stare.
His tenure in Anbu had provided him with lessons aplenty, leaving him wary of those deploying covert strategies.
The girl's laughter persisted, her demeanour unchanged. However, her discerning gaze betrayed heightened vigilance. Simultaneously, a covert signal passed between her and the middle-aged man, a tableau discernible to Orochimaru.
With an air of disdain, Orochimaru detected an unusual musk mingling with the girl's perfumed fragrance—a scent that failed to escape his discerning olfactory senses.
Though non-toxic, this distinctive musk proved challenging to dissipate and emitted a unique signature detectable to skilled trackers. Comparable to scent-based tracking methods, it held considerable utility within the ninja world.
"You bear an unmistakable fragrance," Orochimaru commented coolly.
"Chuckles~ One's tastes can be divisive," the alluring attendant responded, her grin undiminished. Yet, her eyes exuded heightened wariness, acknowledging Orochimaru's astute observation.
"Giggle~ The feeling is mutual," she rejoined playfully, her eyes narrowing.
"But, I do have a query for you," Orochimaru interjected suddenly, accompanied by a subtle gesture symbolizing a potential deal.
Deliberate nonverbal communication transpired between her and the middle-aged man, culminating in Orochimaru's guidance toward an adjacent room.
Orochimaru navigated this unexpected turn, surprised by the cavernous expanse concealed beneath the facade of the dilapidated village. The excavation, a testament to ninjutsu prowess, granted Orochimaru further insights into the capabilities of his fellow operatives.
"You intend to liquidate a substantial amount of assets?" Orochimaru found himself ensconced in a spacious chamber, attended by an elder and a Jonin-level functionary.
Contemplating the matter momentarily, Orochimaru quickly obscured his features once more, exchanging the Horcrux mask for a pristine white visage.
The pair before him, equally stunned, soon bore witness to a surge of Jonin-level Chakra, a subtle declaration of Orochimaru's true capacity.
"You... you are!" The revelation triggered astonishment and recognition in equal measure.
To ensure optimal returns, distinct personas could be employed to sell identical merchandise—a ploy leveraged to maximize revenue. And while the absence of a valid identity risked immediate exposure, the decision to adopt a distinct guise remained a calculated one.
With practiced finesse, Orochimaru produced an extensive sealing scroll, a high-tier specimen. Such artifacts, notably scarce, held exclusive contents warranting their transport by a dedicated contingent.
Within the Hokage's repository, only a finite assortment of seal scrolls accommodated specialized contents. The existence of this superior model, procured from Kōza Kubisaki's treasure repository, remained indicative of concealed secrets.
"I operate under Lord Hokage's aegis, precluding any impediment to my efforts. His urgency necessitates rapid action," Orochimaru proclaimed, unsealing the scroll with an air of authority.
Initial scepticism swiftly yielded to incredulity as the scroll disgorged a profusion of precious materials—gold, silver, jade, and antiquities—generating audible gasps.
Orochimaru, undeterred, coordinated with the elder to expedite the appraisal and packaging process. The strenuous endeavour left the elder breathless, his countenance a tableau of disbelief. Never before had he encountered such a monumental influx of wealth.
Meanwhile, the Jonin functionary's gaze oscillated, struggling to suppress burgeoning avarice while cognizant of the inherent hazards posed by an Anbu operative such as Orochimaru.
Orochimaru astutely culled a portion of his possessions, retaining select jewellery, fine tools, and rare materials. With the transaction concluded, he amassed a staggering sum totaling eighty million ryo, a figure nearly unprecedented within the market's confines.
Significantly, the exchange yielded a boon of thirty percent less than the sum amassed—eerily emblematic of the market's sinister undertones.
Having reassumed his concealment, Orochimaru's expression transmuted into one of contentment.
As an operative of Konoha, his conundrum lay in whether to entrust this venue with lucrative missions. After all, the enclave's proximity to Konoha presented a strategic advantage, facilitating potential acquisitions.
The ensuing journey led Orochimaru toward the mission distribution area, his path abruptly crossed by a cluster of newcomers. Among them stood a familiar face—a youth he recognized.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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Power Stone 
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