In the tubes, dark red blood was drawn from different directions, from different human bodies, carrying different genes and different deep-level components. Though their paths differed, they converged in a bright red, fleshy "container," where they were mixed together.
At least, that was what it looked like.
Inside, they were transformed into a murky gray liquid, then injected through several long, slender tendrils extending from the fleshy mass into an opened case assembly directly below.
If Ronan had been there, he would probably have found the special equipment assembly below—folding and unfolding in an orderly fashion according to the case's structure—very familiar.
Because this was the same type of dedicated portable workstation he had once used to extract drug components... Of course, it was only of a similar category. This portable workstation was far more advanced than the standard model Mo Ya had funded for him, and its functions were much more powerful.
Blood drawn from different people underwent initial refinement in the fleshy container before entering the portable laboratory apparatus for secondary extraction. Once the relevant instruments had tested and confirmed it, it was injected into Jeff Elers's blood vessels.
Injecting those components was like injecting life into him.
Jeff Elers's ragged breathing gradually eased, and his rust-red skin, which had seemed on the verge of corroding away, slowly returned to normal.
In contrast, the five young men and women responsible for his "transfusion" visibly weakened at a rapid pace. The swiftly multiplying terror also inflicted additional wear on their bodies and minds.
One of the girls was already crying bitterly, but no one cared.
Old Elers himself was not in much better condition.
Even in this abnormal state, he was exhausted. But when Black Lion walked to the bedside, he still opened his eyes and stared calmly at