Chapter 21 ( experiment )

  The world came back to Adam in jagged pieces.

  He blinked, eyes adjusting to a flickering, blood-hued light above. The scent of rust, Qi-metal, and something charred clung to the air. He was suspended in the middle of a circular chamber, arms and legs splayed, held taut by glowing chains forged from refined Qi. Needles, scalpels, and crystallized tools hovered nearby in levitating trays—tools meant for more than surgery.

  The place looked less like a lab and more like a torture chamber wearing a scientist's mask.

  A voice broke the silence.

  “Oh my... you’re up early.”

  Adam tilted his head, movements stiff. His voice was flat. Cold.

  “Where am I? Who are you? How long have I been out.”

  A chuckle.

  “Slow down, slow down. It’s only been six hours. You’re in my experiment chamber, of course.” The man stepped forward from the shadows—white lab coat stained with Qi burns and dried blood. Half his face was covered in a mechanical graft that blinked and hissed softly with every breath.

  “As for my name... mmh, I don't really know it anymore. People called me a lot of things. I used to be No. 87... but call me K. It has a certain simplicity to it.”

  Adam's eyes narrowed. “Why did you bring me here. What do you want.”

  K’s smile widened. He clapped his gloved hands together with manic glee.

  “Ah! Straight to business. I like that. Efficient, like a good experiment.” He began circling Adam slowly, the sound of his boots tapping against the metallic floor.

  “I was at the coliseum, you see. Watching. Observing. And then I saw you. Three Grade 9 elements—Light, Metal, Death—in a single vessel? That’s a miracle wrapped in an abomination. And that sword-arm of yours…” He paused, his fingers twitching, eyes filled with obsession.

  “Surviving a higher being’s corruption without fully losing yourself? That shouldn’t be possible. That shouldn’t exist.”

  Adam remained silent. Observing. Measuring.

  K leaned closer, grinning with wild eyes.

  “You’ve tickled my research instincts, boy. And now, I just want to take you apart. Find out how you tick. Every nerve, every thread of soul.”

  He tapped a glowing device next to him.

  “I even tried to read your mind—you know, standard procedure. When used on other mind readers, it turns into a battle of will. One wins, one loses. But you?” K leaned closer, whispering now, nearly trembling.

  “Nothing. No resistance. No battle. No depth. Just an abyss.”

  He stepped back and laughed, a sharp, unhinged sound.

  “It’s driving me insane! You're like a locked book where the pages rewrite themselves if anyone tries to peek.”

  Adam looked at him, still emotionless.

  But inside?

  He was already planning.

  K approached a console nearby, fingers dancing across shimmering Qi-infused glyphs. Holographic projections of Adam’s body flickered to life—rotating diagrams, blood flow patterns, elemental readings.

  His tone turned analytical, but laced with growing excitement.

  “I’ve been observing your pigmentation as well… Your hair and eye color. Most cultivators, after reaching Qi Condensation, undergo subtle shifts. One or the other changes, sometimes both—but both is rare, and usually signals an anomaly.”

  He tapped on the projection of Adam’s head. A strand of blonde hair flickered in the display.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Yours, though? Naturally blonde hair. Eyes that don’t align with any of the elements you manifest. Light, Metal, Death—yet your gaze holds none of their glow. That’s not a mutation. That’s… heritage.”

  K straightened up, his voice now laced with reverent madness.

  “Only noble bloodlines, the ancient and sacred ones, can produce that kind of misalignment. But even they leave traces—spiritual signatures, clan markers. You have none. Not a single one. Which means…”

  He paused, smiling as if unveiling a great riddle.

  “You’re not from this world at all, are you?”

  The words echoed in the chamber.

  K grinned, nearly giddy.

  “An otherworlder... Now that is a bigger bombshell than anything I expected. Oh, the things I’ll discover…”

  He stepped back, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

  “Don’t worry—I haven’t touched a hair on your head. Not yet. Not until I finish my theoretical framework.”

  Adam’s gaze remained fixed on K, unmoving, unflinching.

  “What did you do to the others?”

  K tilted his head, feigning innocence, then chuckled—a dry, clinical sound devoid of warmth.

  “Ohh, nothing to them. You fought well. In fact… I was entertained. A Qi Condensation, third realm, taking on four opponents alone—without elemental arts? Then turning around and putting a Foundation Establishment cultivator to sleep?”

  He tapped his temple with a gloved finger, eyes alight with fascination.

  “That shouldn’t be possible… unless—You used your mind-based ability. One that requires touch to activate. Interesting… very, very interesting.”

  Adam didn’t respond. His silence, cold and controlled, only fueled K’s curiosity.

  “Now then, back to the subject at hand. You have Death, Light, and Metal in your three dantians. Upper, middle, lower. All Grade 9. Truly rare. The stronger the grade, the more refined your Qi, the more devastating your arts… and sometimes, it even bestows extra effects.”

  K turned and casually swiped the air with two fingers. A flash of jade-green wind in the shape of a crescent shimmered to life—a soundless blade of compressed Qi.

  Slick.

  Adam’s sword-arm dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

  The pain should have been blinding—but Adam’s expression barely shifted. His breathing slowed, his pupils contracted. The only reaction was a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

  K, admiring the clean severance “In the higher realms, it’s true—lost limbs, even heads, can regenerate. But the process is slow… and fights at that level? They’re over in seconds. Which is why healing spells are so important. Instantaneous recovery. That’s what I want to see.”

  K leaned forward, eyes gleaming with unrestrained scientific obsession.

  “Will a Grade 9 Light healing spell regenerate a lost limb? And if it does—will the new limb keep that strange sword mutation, or revert to normal flesh?”

  He grinned wider, stepping back to admire his work.

  “Two experiments in one.”

  Adam’s severed arm twitched slightly on the floor, a faint mist of deathly Qi already leaking from the wound like smoke clinging to bone.

  Adam stared coldly at the bleeding stump where his arm used to be. His breathing remained steady. A radiant golden light surged from within his chest and flowed through his body like a tide of purity. The wound shimmered, bone reformed, veins reknit, flesh regrew. In moments, a perfectly human hand extended from the stump.

  But then, something twisted.

  Dark veins spread like cracks beneath the skin. The new arm blackened, rotted, and sloughed off like decaying bark, falling to the floor with a wet thud. From the stump, the twisted sword-arm regenerated once more—dark metal laced with light-imbued lines, like veins of silver in obsidian.

  K (eyes gleaming) “Interesting... Looks like the shape of your soul has changed to that form. It’s not just corruption—it’s your essence now.”

  He folded his arms behind his back, circling Adam slowly.

  “My guess? You won’t be able to return to a normal arm until you reach the Nascent Soul Realm. Until then... you’re stuck like this.”

  Adam’s voice was calm and sharp.

  “Are you a demonic cultivator?”

  K chuckled softly, as if the question was na?ve.

  “I’m a researcher first... but sure, call me that if you like.”

  He stopped, looking Adam directly in the eye.

  “Do you even know what demonic cultivation is, to ask such a thing?”

  Adam gave no response. His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “I’ll take that silence as a ‘no’.”

  K turned and walked toward a cabinet of scrolls, speaking as if lecturing a curious student.

  "Demonic cultivation is practical. It’s a brutal system designed for those born with poor talent—Grade 3 or lower. Through forbidden nourishment techniques, practitioners devour beasts, mortals, and any living being that’s easier to digest, forcefully enhancing their Elemental Synchronization. This not only mimics the effects of high-grade talent, but also rapidly accelerates their cultivation, allowing them to break through bottlenecks that would otherwise trap them for life."

  He opened a scroll and pointed to an inked diagram of a distorted dantian filled with corrupted Qi.

  “The result? Their dantians show corrupted elemental signatures. Visually similar to a Grade 9. Power far beyond their natural limits. But the cost... is sanity.”

  He tossed the scroll aside and faced Adam once more.

  “This Empire... do you know what we call it? ‘The Land Ruled by the Revolutionary.’”

  K let the name hang in the air, reverent and mocking.

  “Siegfried. That man changed everything. Stabilized this place, brought laws, peace. It’s safer than any other territory in this world.”

  His grin widened.

  “Which is perfect for people like me. So many fat, safe citizens. So many bodies. So much nourishment.”

  He stepped closer, shadows gathering around his hand like coiling serpents.

  “And as my final experiment… I’ll use you as nourishment. Let’s see just how far my synchronization can rise with a Grade 9 talent.”

  K grinning, stepping closer

  "Now, now… let’s see how delicious a Grade 9 soul tastes—"

  Adam coldly, his head still slumped

  "You talk too much."

  K looks confused, only for a second—

  PFTT.

  Adam spits.

  The glob arcs through the air, shining under the flickering lab light. It lands—splat—directly on K’s forehead and connects in a long, slimy thread between Adam’s mouth and K’s skin. A grotesque bridge.

  K snarling in disgust

  "You insolent—"

  Adam raising his head, calm and chilling

  "Not just touch… any contact is enough."

  "My ability isn't simple mind reading…"

  "It's memory manipulation."

  K’s expression twists from annoyance to sudden confusion. His eyes tremble as if struggling to focus.

  He opens his mouth—only for no sound to come out. He staggers back a step, then another. His hands reach up to his temples as something invisible begins invading him.

  K in a panicked whisper

  “Wh… what is this…?”

  Inside K’s mind

  Thousands of memories begin to fracture, fold in on themselves, burn, and then…

  new ones form.

  They’re too seamless to be fake.

  Too familiar to be foreign.

  Too human to be doubted.

  Adam sits there, still bound, unmoving—his eyes closed in focus.

  This isn’t just erasure.

  This is creation.

  Minutes pass. Or maybe hours.

  K suddenly falls to his knees, panting heavily.

  The spit-bridge breaks.

  He looks around in dazed panic, sweat dripping from his chin.

  ---

  K confused

  "Wh… where am I? What happened…?"

  Adam breathing heavy but calm

  "You saved me."

  K blinking

  "I… saved you?"

  "Yes. You infiltrated this place to stop a madman from experimenting on me. You’re… a demonic cultivator, yes—but only out of necessity."

  K listens, bewildered, and yet… the story feels right. It fits the images in his head—the ones Adam just wrote into him.

  "You were on a mission. A righteous one. To return to the path of light. You said saving me was part of your penance."

  K stands, trembling slightly, looking at his hands as if trying to remember who he is.

  "I… I see. That sounds like something I’d do."

  He walks over and breaks the chains binding Adam.

  "Go. Before others come. I’ll burn this place."

  Adam nodding

  "Thank you. For saving me

  ."

  K watches him go, and then sets the laboratory ablaze with a wave of his hand. The flames reflect in his eyes—but they don’t burn with madness anymore.

  He walks into the wilderness, a blank slate with a forged path.

  A tool once meant for destruction… now walking toward redemption.

  “Well that gamble paid off.”