After drinking a cup of blood, Nikita's face finally regained a hint of color.
Zheng Qing chewed on the blood replenishment pill Thomas had fed him, his mouth full of bitterness.
He remembered that, when he had gone shopping at Daming Market at the start of his freshman year, he had used blood to refine his spellbook in Shangyuan Bookstore and suffered excessive blood loss. Thomas had given him a blood replenishment pill back then as well.
But this time, he could no longer taste what he had tasted before, in every sense of the phrase.
If he had known then that this patient, meticulous interviewer beside him would one day tie him to an operating table and slice him up, whether he would ultimately have chosen First University would have become an unknown.
All he could say was that the world was unpredictable, and fate loved to toy with people.
"Bring that thing over." Thomas's command came from beside his ear.
The Little Banshee, who had been crouching beside Nikita's bed, immediately sprang up and darted into the darkness. Before long, she returned to the laboratory master's side carrying a tray.
Though he lay on the operating table, Zheng Qing could still feel the tray's chilling aura. From his angle, he could only see a fist-sized, snowy-white lump inside, like a bar of lard soap.
Noticing the boy's gaze,
Thomas considerately lowered the tray a little so Zheng Qing could see more clearly. "This is bodily tissue I cultivated in the laboratory using your skin flakes..."
As he spoke, he slowly squeezed out the remaining half packet of blood, dripping it onto the "snow-white lump of flesh."
The chunk of flesh immediately flushed crimson. For an instant, Zheng Qing felt as though it was about to come alive, as