Chapter Twelve: The Secret in the Valley (Part Two)

Pierre’s full name was Adolf Pierre.

He was the earliest alchemy apprentice to follow Heinz.

Alchemists had no formal hierarchy; their strength depended entirely on their achievements in alchemy, and their creations stood as the measure of their rank.

For thirty years, Pierre had remained obscure among alchemists across the continent; few realized that his accomplishments had long qualified him for the title of Master.

Perhaps he could not yet match his mentor, but compared to Andrew, he was far superior.

Night had fallen over the valley, yet the magical lamps still glowed.

Pierre stood with a solemn expression, gazing intently at the medicine pool not far away.

The pool resembled a coffin; the dark green potion shimmered with an eerie light beneath the magical lamps, suffused with the aura of death.

A corpse soaked in the solution—Biller.

The unfortunate youth, drained of blood by the vampire bees, had grown swollen in the potion; his body was covered in strange symbols. A small magic array had been arranged around the pool, with peculiar threads running from Biller’s body to the array itself.

Several apprentices clustered beside the corpse. When the array’s glow dimmed, they would replace the energy crystal, ensuring a constant flow of energy into the body submerged in the pool.

It was clear to see: something was writhing ceaselessly within Biller’s chest.

Perhaps because they were so absorbed in their work, none noticed the shadow quietly approaching from the darkness nearby.

Relying on the mountain’s natural shadows, Gong Hao crept along the edge of the precipice of death.

He knew that if he was discovered, death awaited him.

Biller… What are they doing to you?

Gong Hao’s heart trembled.

He hated that he could not get closer to the pool.

Who could know what methods alchemists might use to detect those who hid? Gong Hao held his breath, burying himself in darkness, channeling his energy toward his ears, hoping to sharpen his hearing and uncover the secrets lurking here.

Damn Lancelot—battle aura could be used in countless ways; why hadn’t he taught him more? Whether to project, conceal, sharpen senses or hide, all required a delicate grasp of aura manipulation. Gong Hao felt the flow within him crash about, almost splitting his head, yet it did nothing for his hearing.

In fact, it only made him dizzy and confused.

He had to remain calm. Since he had come, he could not simply stand at a distance and watch.

Gong Hao took several deep breaths.

He closed his eyes, relaxed his body, and let his aura flow like joyful water within him… Gradually, he felt himself merge with the darkness.

He tried to guide the flow evenly throughout his body, and his sense of touch grew more acute.

Further, just a bit further!

The wind blew softly.

A voice came from one of the apprentices: “It’s about time.”

Yes, it was the wind.

Sound traveled through the air; what he needed to capture was not merely sound, but the breath of the wind.

He focused on sensing the wind in the air, tasting the call of the wind spirits. It was as if countless lives whispered in the air.

The voices grew clearer.

“Master Pierre, the flesh’s vitality recovery rate is only twenty-five percent. We can’t proceed with the magic pattern experiment. Should we increase the array’s energy supply?”

An apprentice spoke.

Pierre grunted, “Forget it. More energy won’t help. What about other aspects?”

“The soul is completely dissipated; we can’t make a flesh puppet. But worst of all, the implanted spirit is withering due to the loss of life nourishment. Should we remove it now, Master Pierre?”

“A newcomer?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it, not even thirty days. He hasn’t met the minimum requirements. What use is he?”

“Master, should we remove it now?”

Pierre sighed lightly, “Take it out first and see.”

“Yes.”

An apprentice took a sharp knife and sliced open Biller’s abdomen. Despite the darkness and his distance, Gong Hao saw the apprentice extract a small flesh ball from Biller’s body.

The flesh ball had arms and legs and a clearly defined face—it was unmistakably a tiny person.

The apprentice handed the flesh ball to Pierre, who casually dripped a few drops of potion onto it. Suddenly, the ball’s tightly shut eyes snapped open under the potion’s stimulus, and it let out a shrill scream, biting viciously at Pierre.

Before it could bite him, Pierre squeezed it hard, crushing it in his hand until it exploded in a shower of blood.

“Hmph, a failed, undeveloped specimen. No use keeping it.”

After some thought, Pierre said to the apprentice, “Strip this one’s flesh and prepare to forge an undead puppet. Damn Andrew—he can’t even handle this, wasting a spirit seed for nothing. Delivery will be troublesome.”

“Yes, master.”

Pierre lowered his head, muttering to himself, “Looks like I’ll have to warn Andrew—new servants shouldn’t be sent to dangerous tasks for now. There aren’t many spirit seeds left…”

———————————

“Ugh!” Gong Hao could no longer restrain himself and vomited violently onto the ground.

He had long suspected the valley’s secret would be nothing good, but as long as he had not seen it with his own eyes, he clung to a shred of hope. Perhaps something needed building in a hidden palace beneath the valley? Maybe there was some other way the people could be sent away?

More than once, he had hoped his terrifying suspicions were nothing but paranoia, that he was merely judging others with a petty heart, and all his worries were just the sad conjectures of a small man.

Never before had he so desperately wished to be wrong, but the cruel truth told him everything he had imagined was the grim reality.

Gong Hao could not recall how he left the valley. He was numb, almost screaming aloud right then and there.

He knew that if he did not leave at once, he might never leave again.

He retreated hurriedly.

Then he vomited again onto the ground.

He felt as if his guts were coming up.

He was dizzy, his vision spinning.

He saw little, understood little, but it was more than enough.

Heinz and his apprentice assistants were treating every servant as an experimental subject. The living were used for experiments, and even corpses were not spared.

It appeared that many experiments demanded living subjects, and countless alchemical products consumed human life.

Take those flesh puppets.

And the bloodied, ferocious, terrifying flesh ball—even in its undeveloped stage, it displayed a monstrous, savage tendency for cruelty and slaughter.

Damn it!

He finally understood why these people went to such lengths, making every batch of servants work for at least a month before taking them away.

They could have kept a set of permanent servants and simply sent newcomers to experiment.

Clearly, they had secretly implanted every servant with the so-called spirit seed. These seeds likely entered their bodies through work or food, parasitizing them and feeding on their flesh and blood to grow. The flesh ball needed to incubate in the human body for at least a month, then entered a dormant state, only to be awakened with a special potion and extracted.

From the flesh ball’s behavior, it was absolutely a terrifying killing machine. It was certainly far more powerful than puppet warriors or flesh puppets.

And now, without a doubt, such a thing was in his own body.

Purgatory Island was conducting a series of horrific experiments for the Lance Empire, providing every kind of weapon—ordinary, advanced, cutting-edge, and even dark, terrifying king-level ones.

One day, they would cut open his stomach and extract the spirit.

No matter how hard he worked, he could only prolong his miserable existence.

Even if he escaped this hellish world, who could guarantee that one day, the damned seed would not awaken on its own, slice open his belly, and burst out in blood?

If before, Gong Hao had prepared himself mentally to flee if things turned dire, now he had utterly abandoned any hope of escape.

He finally understood why Lancelot kept himself far away, withdrawn by the tranquil lakeside—perhaps only thus could he ease his inner guilt, only thus could he stay away from those bloodthirsty, inhuman monsters.

Butcher? To call them by such a name was an insult to butchers.

“Bastards!” Gong Hao growled hoarsely, “Even if I die, I’ll drag you all down to hell with me! I swear it!”