Experiment

Having finished his instructions, Mr. Yin did not spare Wei Dayong another glance, as though looking at a lifeless object. He turned around and went back to fussing over his bubbling earthenware jar. Dressed in Daoist robes, the Daoist boy had a numb gaze and mechanical movements, more like a domesticated tool as he replied expressionlessly, "Understood, Mr. Yin."

The Daoist boy walked to the wall and pulled on a rope. A pulley turned overhead, and several chains with iron hooks lowered. The other two guards stepped forward, brutally hooking Wei Dayong's limbs with the iron hooks, pulling them taut and leaving him suspended in mid-air in a sprawling, cross-like shape one foot off the ground. The wounds were pulled taut, and Wei Dayong let out a suppressed, stifled groan as cold sweat poured down like rain.

The Daoist boy fetched a strange apparatus. One end was a sharp, hollow bone thorn connected to a leather tube, while the other end of the tube led to a huge glazed jar. The jar was filled with a viscous, dark red liquid that still throbbed faintly—that was the Tiger Monster Blood, radiating a violent monster qi. The bone thorn on the other end connected to a smaller, completely empty jar.

"Begin the bloodletting," the Daoist boy said, his voice flat and devoid of ripples.

One guard picked up the bone thorn connected to the empty jar and stabbed it fiercely into the artery of Wei Dayong's wrist!

Wei Dayong's body gave a violent shudder as warm blood gushed through the bone thorn and leather tube into the empty jar. The chilling sensation brought on by blood loss spread rapidly, his complexion turning pale at a speed visible to the naked eye as his consciousness began to blur. He could clearly feel his life ebbing away bit by bit along with his blood.

Just as his vision began to scatter and he hovered on the brink of fainting, the Daoist boy swiftly drove the bone thorn connected to the Tiger Monster Blood into the vein of Wei Dayong's other wrist.

"Inject the monster blood."

In an instant, a scorching, violent, and wild surge of power rushed fiercely into Wei Dayong's body via his veins! Completely different from the human blood that was on the verge of exhaustion, this monster blood was like magma; everywhere it passed, his blood vessels felt as though they were being torn apart and melted! An indescribable, agonizing pain wrung a shrill, miserable screech from Wei Dayong's previously withered spirit, and his body twitched uncontrollably and violently, causing the chains to rattle loudly.

Human blood and monster blood intermingled, clashed, and mutually eroded within his veins. Beneath his skin, countless living snakes seemed to have burrowed in, writhing and swelling frantically, their color shifting bizarrely between deathly pale, blue-purple, and dark red.

This was not the end. The Daoist boy retrieved a small black gourd covered entirely in talisman papers. He cautiously peeled back the talisman paper sealing the gourd's mouth while chanting under his breath. A cold, twisted, and malicious black Qi drifted out from the mouth of the gourd, transforming into a blurry, constantly shifting grimace that emitted a silent, shrieking wail—this was precisely the soul body of that nightmare.

The Daoist boy guided this black Qi, pressing it slowly toward the center of Wei Dayong's brow.

"No... don't..." Wei Dayong's remaining consciousness screamed frantically, but he lacked even the strength to twitch a single finger.

The moment that Nightmare Soul made contact with the center of his brow, Wei Dayong felt as though a red-hot iron rod had brutally pierced straight through his head! It was not physical pain, but a tearing, contamination, and freezing cold that acted directly upon his soul! Countless chaotic, evil, and painful thoughts flooded into his consciousness like a tidal wave, intent on utterly devouring his reason as a "human." All manner of terrifying illusions appeared before his eyes, and his ears were filled with spiteful curses.

The violent fury of the Tiger Monster Blood scorched his flesh, while the chilling malice of the Nightmare Soul eroded his soul. Suspended in mid-air, Wei Dayong's body convulsed violently due to the collision of these two extreme forces, his throat emitting unhuman, intermittent rattling sounds as his pupils dilated and contracted by turns, pushing him to the verge of complete collapse.

The Daoist boy turned a blind eye to all this, merely picking up a wooden board and a piece of charcoal to record calmly:

"The third quarter of the xu hour: Tiger Monster Blood injected (Soul Sculpting Peak), the subject exhibits violent rejection, bloodline conflict is pronounced."

"The fourth quarter of the xu hour: The stolen-years Nightmare Soul body introduced, the spiritual platform is stimulated, mental fluctuations are drastic, visual and auditory hallucinations manifested."

"Vitals: Abnormal elevation of body temperature, muscle spasms, dilated pupils..."

Meanwhile, tonight's patrol was led personally by Commander Chen. Whether due to the presence of this unfathomable scar-faced captain, the route that usually saw scattered Corpse Ghosts and Demonic Beasts was shockingly peaceful tonight, not even stirring up a trace of abnormal chilly wind. The entire squad was pervaded by a heavy, murderous tension; no one spoke, and only heavy footsteps and the faint friction of weapons and armor echoed in the dead silence of the night. The members were more vigilant than usual, not daring to let down their guard in the least.

The patrol concluded, and they returned to the garrison parade ground. Commander Chen waved the other members back, calling out to Shi Zhu alone just as the latter was about to leave.

Commander Chen's back was hunched, and the scar on his face looked particularly ferocious under the dim torchlight. His voice was hoarse and low: "Shi Zhu, go look for Wang Quan and Wei Dayong. Neither of them was seen during the night patrol—are they trying to rebel?"

Shi Zhu's heart tightened, and he hurriedly bowed with cupped fists: "Commander Chen, Captain Wang and Brother Wei were perhaps held up by some urgent matter. I will go look for them right now." Not daring to say more, he accepted the order and hastily retreated, though a layer of ominous shadow shrouded his heart. Wang Quan possessed unfathomable martial skill, and Wei Dayong was no pushover either; for both of them to disappear simultaneously was by no means ordinary.

Deep within the gloomy cellar.

"Wake up! Heh, you've got a stubborn life in you, not quite dead yet." A somewhat mocking voice sounded in Wei Dayong's ear. It was the expressionless Daoist boy, who was poking his suspended body with a cold iron rod.

Wei Dayong was jolted awake from a deep, heavy faint by excruciating pain, his dim vision gradually focusing. Every single inch of bone and every scrap of muscle in his entire body felt as though they had been pulverized and then haphazardly pieced back together, an indescribable agony washing over his remaining consciousness in recurrent tidal waves. More terrifying still, he felt two diametrically opposed, violent forces crashing and tearing frantically inside him: one scorching and brutal like flowing magma, and the other cold and venomous like ten thousand ants gnawing at his heart. His body seemed to have turned into a battlefield, no longer belonging to him.

While recording the data on the wooden board, the Daoist boy spoke as if talking to himself or perhaps to Wei Dayong: "Willpower in the Mortal Transformation Realm is somewhat stronger. It's not like we haven't tried simultaneously implanting monster blood and a Nightmare Soul before, but none lasted past a single night before going mad or dying. You, at least, can endure."

A faint, exceptionally weak flicker passed through Wei Dayong's dim eyes. The instinct for survival and the obsession with saving his daughter were the sole pillars keeping him from collapsing entirely.

Just at that moment, the heavy iron door of the cellar was pushed open, and Mr. Yin's hunched figure appeared in the doorway, bringing with him a heavier wave of medicinal stench and bloody reek.

The Daoist boy immediately bowed in report: "Lord Yin, this person's physique and willpower are both of the finest caliber. The monster blood and Nightmare Soul have been implanted for over six hours. Although his body rejects them violently, his vital signs persist and his consciousness is not entirely lost. The overall evaluation... leans favorable."

Mr. Yin paced forward, his turbid and sharp eyes scanning Wei Dayong up and down as he hung there on the verge of death, much like an inspector appraising an artifact nearing completion. A trace of an imperceptible curve twitched at the corners of his shriveled mouth as he rasped, "Not bad, a good seed. It seems we can proceed to the next step."

He paused for a moment and instructed the Daoist boy: "Go retrieve that 'Soul Sculpting Realm' Black-striped Tiger monster heart from the ice cellar."

A flash of surprise crossed the Daoist boy's eyes, but he immediately obeyed, returning a moment later holding a jade box that continuously radiated a bone-chilling coldness. The jade box opened to reveal a sinister heart the size of a fist, dark red in color and covered in bizarre black veins across its surface, which was still faintly throbbing! The powerful monster-power fluctuations caused the air within the cellar to stagnate.

Mr. Yin extended a withered hand like a bird's claw with long, sharp fingernails. His hand did not seem to be made of flesh and blood, but rather some sort of dark gold metal shimmering with a faint glow. Without warning, and without utilizing any cutting tools, he held the five fingers of his right hand together like a blade and, swift as lightning, plunged them directly into Wei Dayong's left chest!

"Squish!"

The sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh, tearing through fascia, and snapping ribs was clearly audible! An unimaginable, agonizing pain caused Wei Dayong's body to snap violently into an arch, a shrieking, miserable wail escaping his throat that sounded nothing human, his eyeballs nearly popping from their sockets!

Mr. Yin's hand probed precisely into Wei Dayong's chest cavity, grasping that stubbornly beating human heart. Chanting under his breath, he conjured bizarre black-red runes among his five fingers that wrapped around Wei Dayong's heart. He then twisted his wrist and gave a pull!

"Ugh-ah!" Wei Dayong's miserable scream cut off abruptly. His body twitched violently as blood gushed wildly from the massive wound in his chest and from his mouth.

A warm human heart that was rapidly losing its vitality was casually tossed onto the ground by Mr. Yin, still twitching faintly.

The next moment, Mr. Yin grabbed empty air with his left hand, and the Black-striped Tiger heart radiating coldness and monster power flew from the jade box into his grasp. Without a second glance, he thrust this monster heart precisely into Wei Dayong's hollow chest cavity!

"Merge!" Mr. Yin muttered in a low voice, forming hand seals. Countless black-red runes surged like living things into the wound on Wei Dayong's chest, wrapping around the tiger heart. The runes flashed, forcibly connecting the monster heart to his severed blood vessels and nerves. An even more potent force forcibly suppressed the tiger heart's instinctive rejection and stimulated its vitality.

The entire process was brutal, swift, and utterly devoid of humanity. Wei Dayong had long since passed out from the extreme agony, leaving only his body to spasm unconsciously.

"It's replaced." Mr. Yin withdrew his hand, produced a black cloth, and methodically wiped the blood stains from his hands, as if he had just completed an utterly trivial task. "Administer the 'Blood-Melting Soul-Suppressing Pill' to him on schedule to suppress the backlash. Keep detailed records of the monster heart integration, the degree of the Nightmare Soul's erosion, and all changes in the body."

"Understood, Lord Yin," the Daoist boy replied respectfully, beginning to expertly apply a thick, pungent black ointment to the horrifying wound on Wei Dayong's chest.

Mr. Yin cast a final glance at the suspended Wei Dayong, whose life or death remained unknown. There was no pity in his eyes, only the cold interest of a researcher, before he turned and his hunched figure vanished into the shadows beyond the iron door.

Inside the cellar, nothing remained save for the sizzling sound of the melting ointment and Wei Dayong's barely audible, intermittent, and agonizing groans.

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