A soul was an extremely unstable medium.
It could diminish because of memories, and grow because of willpower. To piece together a fragment of soul, one had to ensure that it connected on a psychological level—that was to say:
This was a dangerous experiment that could trigger rejection reactions.
Inside the laboratory, Cat Lamps pushed little carts, hauling away box after box of soul fragments that had visibly developed all kinds of rejection reactions, even sprouting "flesh lumps." According to the agreement, this waste would be sent to the soul mint, forged into soul currency, and sold to hell.
Amid the constant meowls, arguments kept breaking out.
Inside one glove box after another, Cat Lamps stretched their tiny stubby paws as hard as they could, operating the equipment and testing new mixing ratios.
The air was thick with the scent of lemon-and-orange air freshener, but for some reason, Jiang Han caught a subtle smell of steam, carrying a rusty tang of blood.
Clang.
The passage beneath the laboratory opened, and another cage of human-faced rats was delivered inside. These disgusting rodents grew on carrion and mineral powder, yet possessed souls almost equal in quality to those of humans.
"Cat Riemann."
Jiang Han looked toward the Dungeon Giant Cat Lamp beside her.
This breed of Giant Cat Lamp was clearly of the short-haired variety. They looked more like oversized teddy bears, but their exceptionally long whiskers and the smooth long fur cascading down their backs like cloaks made them unexpectedly stylish. They were also called Cat Monster Guests, with something of a Zorro air about them.
Cat Riemann was guiding the research Cat Lamps, telling them to switch to a different ratio for fusing souls.
Hearing Jiang Han's voice, she turned her head. Her tiny ears swiftly flattened from