At the edge of Shenjing stood a warehouse in an outer-ring suburb.
The warehouse itself was utterly unremarkable—a normal grain depot, with nearby farmers and flying vessels transporting grain coming and going. But beneath one of its storage buildings lay a hidden Grotto-Heaven.
Moist vapor hung in the air, soaking the entire underground space in dampness. At first glance, it was clean and orderly. Though it looked somewhat like a prison or slaughterhouse, there was no smell of blood, nor any severed human remains. There were only human bodies curled like infants inside glazed crystal jars, breathing slowly.
Every one of these bodies possessed exquisite features and perfectly curved figures. Whatever one's tastes, there was something to choose from among them—a level of perfection beyond the reach of ordinary humans.
Yet anyone with a discerning eye could see that these bodies were all artificial.
Their skin was soft rubber, their flesh fibers, and their bones hollow steel. Their entire bodies were manufactured—Yankui built to imitate people.
They had yet to be activated.
Because they had no Heart Souls.
"Why hasn't the latest batch been delivered yet?"
The alchemist responsible for this work frowned deeply. Calculating the time as he stared at the lift leading to the surface, he muttered, "They're far too late. Did something go wrong at the refugee camp? This shipment needs to go out urgently—don't screw this up for me!"
Behind him, in several workshop rooms, some Yankui had already been activated. Other physicians were adjusting and examining them. Meanwhile, several limp bodies that were clearly human—withered and exhausted—were taken away and dragged into the disassembly room at the rear for processing.
As an alchemical Fangshi specifically responsible for instilling "souls, spirits, and intelligence" into Yankui, this Fangshi supervisor's status was not particularly high. After all, if