"Got work?"
At the Disaster Management Bureau's D7 Laboratory, Pot Lid Head wore a prison uniform and walked barefoot across the smooth concrete floor of his cell. The cell was over a hundred square meters, filled with visually striking sculptures and oil paintings, along with some bold, avant-garde works.
What he liked most was silently strolling among the artworks, lightly turning in circles on his tiptoes.
A slightly hoarse melody drifted through the empty room: "Floating in the air, so many wine glasses—"
It was the most ordinary music he had ever heard.
The music he'd listened to before had all been unfamiliar to the researcher and his apprentice, consisting only of piano notes or strange, guttural howls.
In the room next door, researchers stared at the data on a screen in amazement. "He's almost there!"
"Teacher, his condition is astonishingly good. He's just a little short of being ready for the next stage of the experiment."
"How... how did they manage this?"
"This test subject should have been declared a failure already—"
Across from him, an elderly researcher who'd lost one eye, one ear, and half his nose wore an equally astonished expression.
"Twenty-three surgeries to combine all kinds of mysterious substances—that's a magnificent goal, built on an almost perfect equation. Once we succeed, we'll create a miracle: physical modification applied to the mysterious domain!"
"Unfortunately, not many in Qinggang had the vision to invest in our surgery. The Secret School doesn't believe in our perfect equation."
"Back then, the two of us brought Mr. Buddha a gift and begged him to see us. In the end, he only told us to do more research on the theory before sending us packing. The Qinggang Council was even less willing to provide funding."
"But so what? Just look!"
He