Chapter Seventy-Eight: The X-3 Serum (Part II)

Feran pushed open the door to the laboratory.

No one noticed his presence. The researchers were busy extracting the final samples, and what was happening outside seemed to have nothing to do with these men in white coats. Beside them, an old man stood flushed with excitement, staring through the glass at the other side while shouting orders at the top of his lungs.

“Quickly, this is the last crystal! Extract it, then compress and condense it... Prepare to activate Reagent Three injection!”

Before the old man had finished speaking, a silver-white flash suddenly appeared before him. In the next instant, a scalpel pierced straight through the glass and shattered the syringe suspended in midair. With the sound of breaking glass, the thick syringe filled with pale yellow liquid burst apart, and the fluid sprayed everywhere, scattering across the floor.

“No———!!!”

Seeing this scene, the old man let out a shriek of agony. He turned in rage, his eyes bloodshot, and fixed a murderous glare on Feran not far behind him. At his feet, the researchers who had followed him were already dead, but the old man cared nothing for them. He simply spread his arms as if he had seen the murderer of his father and charged straight at Feran.

“What have you done!! Damn you, what have you done?! How could you do this!! How could you possibly do this!!! Aaaaaaaah!!”

But before the old man could finish, Feran lifted a foot and drove a heavy kick into his abdomen, sending the small, frail figure sprawling to the ground. Then Feran casually raised his left hand, and in the next moment two scalpels shot out to the left and right, pinning the old man’s hands down hard. The sudden agony drew an uncontrollable scream from him, but Feran paid him no mind. He simply walked out of the laboratory and into the isolation chamber, where he looked at the girl lying quietly on the metal bed.

Beth was already deathly pale. A needle-sized black hole had appeared on her forehead. Though it was impossible to know what had been done to her, one thing was clear: she was not dead yet. Still, by the look of her, she did not seem likely to live much longer.

At Feran’s arrival, Beth’s once-clouded eyes suddenly lit with a bright, clear glow. She widened them, watching as Feran slowly came to stand before her. Looking at that handsome face so deeply etched into her memory, Beth could not help but smile faintly. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but all that came out were babyish, incoherent sounds.

“What a pity. It seems the language centers of the nervous system have been damaged... And, well... I’m sorry to tell you this, but I believe you have less than two minutes left to live, my lovely lady.”

After examining Beth carefully, Feran’s smile did not change in the slightest. Calm and composed, like a coroner dissecting a corpse, he gave his answer. Hearing this, Beth’s pupils contracted slightly. Feran noticed her muscles tighten, but soon they relaxed again.

Had she lost even the ability to control her muscles? Or had she already seen the truth of her situation?

As Feran considered this, he saw Beth blink at him. Then she opened her mouth and formed a word silently. After that, her gaze slowly shifted to a place inside the laboratory. She lingered there for a moment before looking back at Feran once more.

And in her eyes now was an irrepressible terror of death, and sorrow.

“I don’t know what you believe in, but since we did meet once before, I hope whatever you worship will watch over you.”

As he spoke, Feran reached out and placed his hand before her eyelids, gently lowering them. With his touch, the girl slowly closed her eyes. Then he raised his left hand, his fingers turning lightly. In the blink of an eye, a sharp scalpel slid soundlessly into Beth’s heart. Her body jerked violently, then slowly went limp, and was still.

Retracting the scalpel, Feran glanced at the now completely lifeless Beth, feeling little emotion. This world was like this: every moment, people died for one reason or another. The person you had seen before might not live long enough for your next meeting. Feran had already experienced countless such scenes, and naturally he would not grieve for a stranger of a girl. So, after mercifully ending Beth’s pain, he returned to the laboratory and walked to the place at which Beth had been staring. Reaching out, he took down a small glass vial. It was a little smaller than an ordinary medicine bottle, containing roughly ten milligrams of a milky-white liquid. Whether it was his imagination or not, Feran always felt as though the liquid emitted a faint glow. On the vial was written a strange designation: X-3.

“No!! Don’t touch that, give it back to me!! It’s mine! Mine!!!”

Seeing Feran pick up the little vial, the old man suddenly went mad and rushed forward. He did not even care about the scalpels piercing through his hands, but struggled desperately to rise from the floor, letting the sharp blades tear his hands apart. Even so, the old man showed no sign of hesitation. He simply lifted his bloodied hands and clawed toward Feran.

But he was soon kicked down again by Feran. And before the old man could struggle back to his feet, a scalpel pierced his body, burying itself deep in the gaps of his spine. With Feran’s motion, the old man’s body jolted violently, then collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. He stared fixedly at the vial in Feran’s hand, but now he could not move at all.

“Looks like you value this thing quite a lot...”

Studying the vial in his hand, Feran smiled at the old man before him, then reached out again and drew another scalpel.

“Truth be told, I wasn’t all that interested at first. But seeing you in such a state has piqued my curiosity... Hmm, I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I used you for a live experiment, would you, old sir? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind. After all, you do enjoy doing this sort of thing yourself...”

As he spoke, Feran crouched down before the old man. The scalpel in his hand flashed as it plunged straight into the center of the old man’s chest, then swept sharply downward. With Feran’s movement, blood burst forth. In the next instant, the skin over the old man’s chest was sliced clean open, exposing the organs within.

“Ughhh!!”

The searing pain made the old man open his mouth and emit a shrill scream, but before he could finish, Feran reached out and poured every last drop from the vial into the old man’s mouth.

“Cough... cough cough!!”

The poor old man, frail and aged, could not possibly endure such torment from Feran. After swallowing the liquid, he immediately began coughing. Then, as though realizing something, he widened his eyes in terror at the empty vial before him. He turned sharply toward Feran, as if wanting to say something, but...

“Uwaagh!!”

Before he could utter a word, he spat out a mouthful of blood. The old man’s body twisted and writhed as blood poured from his mouth like a fountain. By now he was clearly in the grip of unbearable agony. He struggled to turn his head, letting out a heart-rending scream. Yet none of this drew Feran’s attention. On the contrary, he stared with curiosity at the old man’s internal organs. Starting from the esophagus, then the stomach, then the intestines, every part was rapidly mutating. The smooth outer walls of the organs began to blister, and countless white, cyst-like growths instantly covered the entire mass, enough to drive a person with trypophobia utterly insane. Not only that, but Feran saw even the blood vessels changing shape: the thin, fragile veins were gradually hardening and transforming into milky-white structures that looked like plastic tubing.

In less than half a minute, every organ inside the old man’s body had become something grotesque that no human being ought ever to possess, and his outward appearance began to change just as quickly. On the old man’s body, the skin tore open in sticky strips like melting chocolate, while the muscle beneath it began to lengthen and swell, as though growing an entirely new layer of hide. Even the bones changed. Feran watched in astonishment as sharp bone spurs ripped through the skin and thrust out from the old man’s body. In the blink of an eye, the white-haired elder had become a horrifying and bizarre monster. At the sight, Feran instinctively stepped back several paces, tightening his grip on the scalpel in his hand. He still had two uses left of Ruin Blade. He was prepared: if anything unexpected happened, he would immediately move to utterly destroy that “unexpected” thing.

But soon, Feran realized he would not need to lift a finger.

“Aaaaaaah!!!”

Just as the monster before him seemed about to display some terrible power, Feran suddenly heard it emit another piercing scream. Then the creature began to tremble violently, and its body rapidly crystallized. Its once-powerful limbs turned into a pile of dark red, crystal-like matter, and even its body grew rigid beyond belief. Feran watched as the monster, starting from its limbs, gradually crumbled into a heap of red dust. A moment later, it had vanished from before his eyes entirely.

“Not bad. A must-have miracle medicine for travel, home, and silencing the dead...”

Looking at the tiny trace of red dust remaining by his feet, Feran could not help but whistle. While muttering to himself, he casually picked up a stack of documents from the nearby table and leafed through them at random. Then Feran sighed helplessly. He reached out, opened the Seven Boastful Scholars group, and silently typed a sentence.

“The Federation is seriously sick. Looks like they need treatment.”

After sending the message, Feran closed the chat group and left the laboratory without looking back.

PS: Winter is troublesome enough as it is. Coming back here to clean the house nearly wore me out. Not only that, but while cooking I discovered that something here, maybe the gas stove or something else, is leaking. Every time I stir-fry, I can smell gas everywhere. In the end I had no choice but to shut off the gas and use an induction cooker instead. Honestly, I really am not used to gas cylinders...