Body Modification Plan

The day after the troll incident, Hogwarts was still abuzz.

In the corridors, students whispered among themselves. Nearly everyone was talking about the "professor who knocked out a troll in the bathroom."

Lin An had become a legend, but he himself did not care in the slightest.

He knew it had merely been a minor episode in the timeline—the true goal had never changed.

Lin An stood before the window of the tower study, gazing at the Forbidden Forest shrouded in mist in the distance.

His thoughts returned to the core research he had pursued for years—the body modification plan.

The "Ancient Magic" he had discussed with Hermione the previous night had not been mentioned casually. It was the most important breakthrough in his research.

So-called Ancient Magic was not a specific spell, but a "special structure of life and nature."

Certain creatures possessed such power by nature—the troll's defenses, a dragon's scales, a Phoenix's rebirth. None of these were the result of magic being cast upon them, but natural laws at the physiological level.

Over years of research, Lin An had reached a conclusion:

Magic was not a force from the outside world, but a form of "will influencing reality."

If one could control the source of that will, the human body could become the most perfect vessel for magic.

He had once tried to imitate the methods of ancient wizards—injecting the bloodlines of magical creatures into human bodies.

That period of history was called "Bloodline Alchemy" in the scrolls of the Restricted Section.

Those experimenters had attempted to Fuse the traits of dragons, werewolves, and Goblins, with horrific results.

Most died within days. The few survivors were devoured by foreign wills, their skin growing scales, their eyes turning crimson as they completely lost their sanity.

Lin An had recreated some of those experiments, except he had replaced human subjects with laboratory mice.

He discovered that the Source of the failures was not magical power running wild, but "conflicts of will" within the bloodlines.

The blood of every species carried its own spiritual imprint. When a foreign power was injected into a new life-form, that "will" would devour the host in return.

That explained why bloodline transplant recipients gradually transformed—it was not a bestowal of power, but the erosion of a foreign will.

He wrote in his experiment log:

"Any foreign bloodline will rebel against its host, unless the host can define its Law of Existence."

At that moment, he realized he had been heading in the wrong direction.

Power could not be seized. It could only be edited and rewritten.

So he abandoned bloodline Fusion and turned instead to studying the feasibility of "self-evolution."

He proposed an entirely new approach—not relying on external races, but using runes and Alchemy

to abstract the traits of magical creatures into "Magic Algorithms," then reconstruct them within his own life system.

In other words, he would no longer "Fuse" foreign power, but rationally replicate nature.

This was the highest form of Alchemy—allowing humanity to imitate the creation of God through knowledge.

Over the following months, he delved deeply into the study of all kinds of magical creatures.

Dragon scales provided algorithms for defense, while giant muscles revealed the coupling relationship between magic and strength.

Phoenix tears proved that a reversible flow of energy existed between soul and matter.

He hardly slept, constantly traveling between the laboratory and the Forbidden Forest.

At night, candlelight reflected off silver test tubes. Blue-silver liquid flowed within the bottles—it was extracted "life energy samples."

Lin An named them "Magic Conduits."

While analyzing werewolf blood, he accidentally discovered a peculiar phenomenon.

It was not a virus in the true sense, but a magical medium capable of actively rewriting Life Code.

Under moonlight, it caused the host's genes and Magic Core to rearrange themselves, temporarily granting a physical form beyond the ordinary.

He stared at the magic particles beneath the microscopic array, and a thought flashed through his mind—

If he could remove its unstable properties and recompile that "rewriting command,"

this virus would become humanity's most perfect life-editing tool.

He began to experiment.

Using rune arrays in place of DNA strands, and magic wave frequencies to simulate biological signals,

he used Alchemy devices to stabilize the virus's energy structure and make it obey external commands.

The process was fraught with danger.

The laboratory mice had an eighty percent mortality rate, while the occasional survivors displayed extreme magical reactions.

Once, the experimental chamber was destroyed by an energy wave, and the entire room was Annihilated into ash.

Lin An merely recorded a single line:

"Failure No. 83. Energy diffusion rate exceeded the carrying threshold. A rune suppression layer must be added."

There were no complaints, no Fear.

His rationality had nearly reached the point of cruelty.

Three weeks later, he finally obtained the first batch of stable samples.

It was a floating mass of silver-blue light that seemed to possess a heartbeat.

He called it the "Magic Rewriting Seed."

He knew that as long as this seed merged with his own Life Code, it could gradually reshape his body.

This meant that he would become the first human to achieve self-evolution through magic.

The night was quiet as he sat before his desk.

The quill before him slid across the parchment, writing a new title—

Self-Bloodline Modification Plan: Phase One.

He raised his hand and watched the drop of faintly glowing blood flow across his palm.

It was his own blood. Purified by an Alchemy array, it glimmered with a gentle yet cold blue light.

He said softly, "From this moment on, I will be the experiment's subject."

Moonlight beyond the window fell across his face, illuminating eyes so calm they were almost terrifying.

Beneath that calm lay a fervor for the unknown and an absolute faith in order.

He did not wish to become a God.

He merely wanted to prove—

that the boundary between God and man had never existed.

He closed his notebook and looked up at the night sky.

The wind tore open the clouds, and moonlight poured down, sharp as cold iron.

Lin An murmured:

"Evolution is not a betrayal of humanity, but the continuation of humanity's existence."

The candlelight trembled faintly, reflecting off the side of his face.

Deep within the Alchemy device, the orb of light slowly pulsed, like another heartbeat awakening.