22: Chapter 22 A Century of Experiments

The passage slowly closed behind him.

Su Bai stood in the core area of the Netherworld World, looking at the 373 Crimson-Blood Half-Orcs before him.

They huddled together, their dark red skin looking particularly jarring amidst the grayish-white Yin Qi. Some were shivering, some were looking around, and some lay on the ground trembling, not even daring to lift their heads.

This was their first time stepping into this completely foreign world.

No magma, no smell of sulfur, no scorched black earth.

Only an eternal grayish-white.

And a bone-chilling cold.

A young half-orc sneezed and shrunk into its mother's embrace. That mother held her child tightly, her eyes full of fear and bewilderment.

Su Bai watched them quietly.

Three hundred and seventy-three.

Men and women, old and young.

The oldest was already over fifty, which was considered elderly for a half-orc; the youngest was still an infant, held tightly in its mother's arms.

These were the last embers of the Crimson Blood Clan.

And also his experimental subjects.

"My Lord."

The Ghost Bride floated over, looking at the half-orcs curiously, then at Su Bai. "They're so ugly. What do you want them for?"

Su Bai didn't answer; he just raised his hand, gesturing for her to be quiet.

He took a few steps forward and stood before the half-orcs.

More than three hundred pairs of eyes fell upon him simultaneously, filled with fear, awe, bewilderment, and a faint, almost imperceptible trace of hope.

Su Bai scanned them and spoke slowly.

"From today onwards, you will live here."

His voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of every half-orc clearly through the silent Yin Qi.

"Over there is the Crimson Blood Scorched Earth." He pointed toward the newly formed scorched earth area in the distance. "From now on, that will be your territory."

The half-orcs looked in the direction he pointed and saw the familiar scorched earth.

Although the sky had turned grayish-white, and what flowed was no longer scorching magma but Yin Qi, the shape of the land, the collapsed volcanic ruins, the familiar outlines... it was indeed their homeland.

Someone began to sob softly.

Su Bai ignored it and continued speaking.

"I give you two commands."

His voice suddenly turned cold, carrying an unquestionable authority.

"First, you are not allowed to approach that village."

He pointed to the dilapidated village in the distance where the Ghost Bride and the others lived.

"Living there are my Hero Units. Without my command, no half-orc shall set foot in that area. Violators will die."

The half-orcs all shuddered in unison.

"Second."

Su Bai's gaze swept across the face of every half-orc.

"Survive."

"Survive at all costs."

"Procreate, grow the clan, and let the Crimson Blood Clan take root once more on this land."

"This is your only mission."

"Do you understand?"

After a few seconds of silence, the most burly warrior was the first to kneel, his forehead touching the ground.

"Un... understood."

Then came the second, the third, the tenth, the hundredth.

All 373 half-orcs knelt on the ground.

Su Bai watched this scene and nodded.

"Go."

He turned around and no longer looked at them.

The half-orcs scrambled up, supporting each other as they walked toward the scorched earth. The young were carried, the old were supported by the shoulders; step by step, they entered that strange yet familiar homeland.

The Ghost Bride floated beside Su Bai, watching their departing figures. She tilted her head and asked, "My Lord, can they survive?"

Su Bai was silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know."

"Then why let them go?"

Su Bai didn't answer.

He just raised his hand, his consciousness sinking into the world core.

[Current Power Of Faith: 728 points]

[Available Action: Time Flow Adjustment]

[Adjustment Target: Crimson Blood Scorched Earth Area]

[Adjustment Ratio: An instant outside, a century inside]

[Required Power Of Faith: 100 points]

[Confirm?]

Su Bai's finger hovered in mid-air.

A century.

He was going to use the time of a single breath to witness the rise and fall of a race over a hundred years.

This was the Creator's privilege.

And also the Creator's cruelty.

He clicked confirm.

[Time Flow Adjustment initiated]

[One second outside, one year inside]

[Duration: 100 years (Internal)]

Amidst the grayish-white Yin Qi, the scorched earth area began to blur.

Like looking through a layer of mist, or through a distorted mirror.

Su Bai stood at the edge, watching quietly.

Watching those 373 half-orcs enter the scorched earth.

They knelt before the collapsed volcanic ruins and wept aloud.

Afterward, they wiped their tears and began clearing the ruins, building crude shacks, distributing food, caring for the young, and settling the old and weak.

Finally, they huddled together, lighting a bonfire with their last remaining embers, shivering in the Yin Qi.

That was the first year.

Su Bai didn't blink.

On the scorched earth, more and more shacks appeared.

The half-orcs learned to use yin energy crystals to build sturdier houses, learned to excavate usable materials from the collapsed volcanic ruins, and learned to find plant roots soaked in Yin Qi within the scorched earth.

A newborn was born.

It was a thin and small infant; its cry sounded exceptionally loud in the Yin Qi. Its mother held it, her eyes full of tears, yet a smile played on her lips.

The clansmen gathered around, looking at this new life, their faces showing a long-lost joy.

The tenth year.

Su Bai still stood in the same spot.

The houses on the scorched earth became more numerous and sturdier.

The half-orcs even built a crude altar to sacrifice to their deceased clansmen. In the center of the altar lay the last batch of relics they had brought from the Crimson Blood Realm: a few charred bones, some tattered animal skins, and a broken stone axe.

The younger generation grew up.

They had never seen the magma and volcanoes of the Crimson Blood Realm, never tasted the smell of sulfur, and never felt the scorching temperatures.

They only knew this scorched earth.

They only knew the grayish-white sky, the cold Yin Qi, and the eerie mists that always drifted in the distance.

They began to question.

Questioning why they couldn't leave this scorched earth, why they couldn't go see the distance, and why the place where those Hero Units lived was a forbidden zone.

The older generation strictly rebuked them, telling them it was the Creator's command and that violators would die.

The young people lowered their heads, but the light in their eyes did not go out.

The thirtieth year.

Su Bai's gaze remained calm.

Arguments began to break out on the scorched earth.

The conflict between the younger and older generations grew deeper. The young wanted to explore further, wanted to change the status quo, and wanted to find ways to make the clan live better.

The elders clung to ancestral teachings, clung to the traditions brought from the Crimson Blood Realm, and clung to their reverence for the Creator.

Arguments turned into conflicts, and conflicts turned into brawls.

Someone was injured.

Someone had their leg broken.

Someone was driven out of the clan.

The fortieth year.

Su Bai watched the young man who had been driven out of the clan as he walked alone toward the edge of the scorched earth.

He looked back at the place that had raised him, then resolutely stepped into the unknown Yin Qi.

Three days later, his corpse was sent back to the edge of the scorched earth by the Yin Qi.

His face was distorted, his eyes wide open, as if he had seen something terrifying before he died.

The clansmen fell silent.

The restlessness of the younger generation was suppressed by this corpse.

But that seed had already been planted.

The forty-third year.

Disease began to appear on the scorched earth.

Although the half-orcs' constitutions were robust, the erosion of Yin Qi was slow and fatal. The older generation, who had lived for decades, began to show various strange symptoms.

Skin ulceration.

Stiff joints.

Declining vision.

Mental confusion.

One by one, they collapsed.

Their corpses were carried to the altar for a crude funeral and then buried deep within the scorched earth.

Fewer and fewer people remained alive.

The fiftieth year.

Su Bai watched the last of the first-generation half-orcs, the once most burly warrior, lying in a crude shack with his breath as thin as silk.

His skin was completely ulcerated, his eyes could no longer see, and he was muttering something to himself.

The clansmen gathered around him—the young, the middle-aged, and several newborns—all watching him quietly.

He used his last bit of strength to raise his hand, pointing toward the grayish-white sky.

His lips moved.

His hand dropped.

His eyes closed.

The first half-orc, the last of the first generation, was dead.

Suppressed weeping echoed in the shack.

The fifty-fifth year.

Only a little over a hundred half-orcs remained on the scorched earth.

They were all second and third generation, never having seen the true appearance of the Crimson Blood Realm, only knowing this grayish-white world.

They still worked every day, procreated every day, and lived every day.

But there was no longer any light in their eyes.

The seventieth year.

The half-orcs began to commit mass suicide.

The seventy-third year.

Fewer than fifty half-orcs remained on the scorched earth.

They no longer argued, no longer felt restless, and no longer explored.

They just lived in silence.

Living, and then dying.

The eightieth year.

Only nine half-orcs remained on the scorched earth.

Three middle-aged people, four young people, and two infants.

They huddled together in a crude shack, leaning against each other, using their remaining body heat to combat the eternal cold.

No one spoke.

They just sat quietly.

Waiting.

The ninetieth year.

Only two half-orcs remained on the scorched earth.

A man and a woman.

Both were survivors from that batch of infants, now over forty years old.

They lay in the shack, holding each other's hands, their eyes gazing at the grayish-white sky.

No words were spoken.

They just gazed.

That was the ninety-ninth year.

The last half-orc, that woman, lay alone in the shack.

Her partner had died three days ago.

She had buried him by the altar with her own hands, then returned to the shack, lay down, and waited.

The Yin Qi eroded her body, causing her skin to ulcerate, her joints to stiffen, and her vision to blur.

But she was still alive.

She remembered many, many things.

But at this moment, she no longer had the strength to think of more.

She closed her eyes.

Her breathing grew weaker and weaker.

Weaker and weaker.

Finally.

It stopped.

The last day of the hundredth year.

The last half-orc died.