11. Joint Consultation (I)

The lights in the operating room cast a pale, steady glow. They were bright, but not glaring. The pungent smell of disinfectant, together with the large medical arms reflecting the stark light, made the atmosphere even colder.

A child lay on an iron bed at the center of the room, his neck, hands, and feet restrained. Various drugs were being injected directly into his body through needles extending from the medical arms.

His eyes had widened to their limit, and his expression was one of extreme agony—all thanks to his chest cavity being wide open.

"You're very calm," Jairzinho Guzman told the trembling boy. "Keep it up, all right? I promise this won't last much longer."

The boy answered with two short, muffled groans. The medical officer silently raised a hand and tapped the control panel of the medical arm several times. A fresh syringe was pushed into the boy's veins to help stop the bleeding.

Of course, its effects would not necessarily be kind to the boy's current condition, but fortunately, the medical officer did not need much time.

He bent down close to the boy and carefully examined the gene-seed in his chest, which had yet to fully develop. His brows were tightly furrowed.

Five minutes later, he left the operating room covered in blood.

All major surgeries were like this—blood flew everywhere, flesh was torn apart, bones were broken, and the operating table became as bloody as a slaughterhouse, sometimes even worse. After all, the livestock in slaughterhouses had their blood drained beforehand.

Without spurting blood, great steaming chunks of meat and pale bones were far less shocking.

"How is he?" Saul Tarvitz asked.

"Very good. Just as I said four days ago, he is a natural-born Emperor's Child," Guzman answered, his brows still knitted tightly.

"But