143: Chapter 143: Acceptance

The Adjutant nodded and stepped into the laboratory.

He had originally prepared a stomach full of words.

He wanted to tell the leader that the brothers outside could not hold on much longer.

He wanted to ask about the progress of the serum; even just one semi-finished product could stabilize the group of remnants outside who were on the verge of rioting.

The words stuck in his throat.

The smell of blood in the air, mixed with the scent of chemical agents, rushed directly into the Adjutant's nostrils.

In the center of the laboratory, four dissection tables were placed side by side.

Shadowless lamps shone down from the ceiling, illuminating the scene on the tables.

After seeing everything clearly, the Adjutant's footsteps were nailed to the spot.

On the four tables, what was tied down was by no means just the corpses of creatures from the God Domain.

On the first table, a Demon Vulture over five meters long had been gutted.

Its dark golden internal organs were exposed to the air.

The upper body of a member of the Time Demon Race had been forcibly shoved into the Demon Vulture's chest cavity.

The Demon Vulture's pale white ribs pierced through the tribesman's shoulders, fixing the two together.

The lower body of the tribesman had disappeared, and pus flowed from the wound, which was currently fusing with the flesh and tissue of the Demon Vulture.

On the second table, the middle head of a three-headed bat had been cut off at the root.

The head of a Time Demon Race member was stitched onto the incision, with rough metal sutures piercing the tribesman's scalp.

Several transparent tubes were inserted into his crown, continuously injecting a deep blue nerve stabilizer.

The scene on the third and fourth tables was equally horrific.

Broken bodies of the tribesmen were pieced together with various deformed local monsters.

Flesh was rolled back, and bones were intertwined.

They were still alive.

The tribesman stitched onto the bat's neck opened his eyes.

His bloodshot eyeballs rolled, looking toward the Adjutant at the door.

His lips were distorted by the sutures, and a wheezing hiss came from his throat.

The Adjutant recognized these eyes.

Carter.

A few days ago, Carter's left arm had suffered a severe mutation backlash, growing black scales.

It was the Adjutant who had personally led men to hold Carter down and carry him into this laboratory.

At that time, Mor stood at the door, patting the Adjutant's shoulder.

He spoke in a calm tone, telling him that these tribesmen with severe backlash had already developed antibodies highly compatible with creatures of the God Domain.

As long as they were sent in and combined with the organs of local creatures, a perfect serum could be extracted.

The Adjutant had believed him.

At that time, he had even held Carter's non-mutated right hand, telling Carter to hold on and that the leader would definitely save him.

Now, Carter had become a stitched monster growing on a bat's neck.

"Leader..." The Adjutant's voice trembled as he moved stiffly, looking at Mor standing in front of the fourth dissection table.

Mor had his back to him, holding a high-frequency cutting knife in his hand.

He was cutting open the skin of a Demon Vulture, preparing to shove a segment of a tribesman's spine inside.

Hearing the sound, Mor did not turn back, and the movements of his hands did not pause.

"Did you handle things outside cleanly?" Mor's voice was strangely calm.

The Adjutant's chest heaved.

Blood rushed backward, surging straight to his brain. His reason was collapsing bit by bit.

"What have you done!"

The Adjutant drew the high-energy burst gun from his waist, gripped it with both hands, and aimed at Mor's back.

"I'm asking you what you've done! Where is the serum you talked about? What about saving them? What kind of things have you turned them into!"

Mor put down the cutting knife.

He turned around, his grayish-white face devoid of any expression.

His eyes were coldly terrifying.

"Put down the gun. Your current behavior constitutes mutiny."

Mor pulled off his medical gloves covered in mucus and tossed them into the waste bin nearby.

"Mutiny? You still have the face to mention those two words!"

The Adjutant's eyes were red, the veins on the back of his hand holding the gun bulged, and his finger pressed tightly against the trigger.

"They trusted you! When I sent them in, they were still calling your name!"

"You treated them as consumable materials! You chopped them up and fed them to these beasts!"

Bang!

The Adjutant pulled the trigger.

The deep blue high-energy beam went straight for Mor's face.

Mor didn't even dodge.

He raised his right hand.

Gray Time Demon Source surged in his palm.

The surrounding space vibrated, forming an invisible barrier.

The laser beam struck the space barrier without even sparking.

The Adjutant gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

Bang, bang, bang! Beams of laser light poured out.

Mor's eyes turned cold, and he took a step forward.

An afterimage flashed.

Mor crossed a distance of more than ten meters and appeared in front of the Adjutant.

He waved his left hand, grabbing the Adjutant's wrist.

Snap.

The Adjutant's wrist bone snapped, and the high-energy burst gun fell to the ground.

Before the Adjutant could counterattack, Mor's right hand had already gripped his neck, exerting force with a single arm.

He lifted him completely into the air and pressed him heavily against the hard metal bulkhead.

The immense impact caused the Adjutant's internal organs to shift, and blood spilled from the corners of his mouth.

"Are you calmer now?"

Mor stared into the Adjutant's eyes, controlling the force in his hand perfectly.

It was enough to make the other person feel suffocated, but not enough to break his neck.

The Adjutant's legs kicked in the air, and his only remaining intact left hand clawed at Mor's arm.

He widened his eyes and spat blood-stained saliva onto Mor's face.

"Cold-blooded madman... liar..." The Adjutant squeezed the words out with difficulty through his teeth.

"You have destroyed the pride of the Time Demon Race... We are wanderers of the starry sky... We can die in battle..."

"We can be crushed by the strong... but we must never become these mindless monsters!"

Mor turned his head, letting the blood-stained saliva slide down his cheek.

A hint of annoyance flashed in the depths of his eyes.

"Pride? Bottom line?" Mor sneered, making no effort to hide the mockery in his voice.

"You want to talk to me about pride? Go outside and look at those thousand-plus pieces of trash! They suffer gene collapse just from breathing the air here!"

"They hide in the energy shield shivering every day; even the lowest-level bug can scare them into wetting their pants!"

The Adjutant continued to stare at him, continuing to curse angrily: "That's also because you brought us in here!"

"For the sake of those illusory resources, you dragged 1,500 brothers into Hell! Now you won't even leave them a whole corpse!"

"You think I wanted this?" Mor increased the force in his hand, and the Adjutant's face turned purple-red.

"I want to take them out alive more than you do! But I can't!"

Mor roared, the emotions suppressed for several days finally tearing open a gap.

He pointed at the deformed stitched bodies on the dissection tables.

"You think I'm really researching a serum? You think I don't know how cruel it is to cut them open?"

"I'll tell you the truth! The Spiritual Qi in this godforsaken place is simply unsolvable! The Law it contains rejects all outsiders!"

"Tribesmen who haven't reached Diamond Rank and haven't awakened their racial mimicry talent are doomed to die after inhaling a single breath!"

Mor let go.

The Adjutant slid down the bulkhead to the floor, clutching his throat and coughing, gasping for air.

Mor looked at him, his tone returning to indifference.

"Conventional methods don't work. If you don't adapt to the environment here, you can only be erased by the environment."

"Our only way to survive is to actively abandon our original physical bodies."

The Adjutant looked up, staring at Mor with a face full of fear.

Mor walked to the first dissection table and reached out to pat the corpse of the Demon Vulture.

"I stitch them together, use stabilizers to suppress rejection reactions, and then infuse them with the Spiritual Qi of this God Domain."

"I want to use this Spiritual Qi to forcibly reconstruct the characteristics of their genes and stimulate the latent mimicry instincts within them."

Mor turned his head, his eyes shining.

"I want them to perform Possession on these creatures of the God Domain! Retain the Soul and consciousness of the Time Demon Race, and put on the skin of these monsters!"

"Only by becoming the beasts of this world can we survive in this world!"

The Adjutant sat slumped on the floor, shivering all over.

He understood Mor's crazy plan.

Abandoning the physical body of the Time Demon Race and forcibly stuffing the Soul into the shell of a local monster.

This was what Mor called "saving them."

"You're crazy... You're completely crazy..." The Adjutant shook his head repeatedly, "This is impossible to succeed... Soul rejection will make them suffer agonizing pain..."

"In the end, they will only turn into beasts that don't even know who they are..."

"They have no choice!" Mor interrupted him sternly.

Mor rubbed his throbbing temples.

If it weren't for the fact that the Time Demon Race's population was dwindling and every laborer was precious.

He would have slapped this troublesome idiot to death long ago.

"Adjutant, you've followed me for so many years; you should have seen the core secret records of the race."

Mor suppressed his murderous intent, trying to persuade the other party with reason.

"Three hundred years ago, our previous leader led the entire race into an Advanced Zerg plane."

"The situation then was even more desperate than it is now; we were also trapped inside, and hundreds or thousands of tribesmen died every day."

Mor walked to the Adjutant, crouched down, and looked directly into the other person's eyes.

"Do you know how we survived in the end?"

The Adjutant's body stiffened.

Of course, he knew that history.

"The previous leader ordered the entire race to actively infect themselves with Zerg genes."

Mor said, enunciating every word, tearing away the bloody fig leaf.

"We abandoned our lineage and became half-insect, half-demon monsters."

"We infiltrated the insect swarm, devoured their empress, and seized the Origin of the entire plane."

"That was the most successful reverse plunder of our Time Demon Race!"

Mor stood up and spread his arms, as if embracing some kind of greatness.

"Now, we are going to walk that path again."

Mor pointed at the laboratory door.

"This God Domain is more Advanced than the Zerg plane of that time, and the Law is more domineering."

"The difficulty of integration is extremely high; the slightest carelessness will cause the Soul to collapse. But I have no other path to take."

Mor turned around and picked up the high-frequency cutting knife again.

He turned his head to look at the Adjutant, his tone carrying the implication of an ultimatum.

"I am giving you two choices now."

Mor held up two fingers.

"First, you take those unconvinced idiots outside, walk out of the energy shield. Go and fight to the death with the bugs and Demon Trees outside. Go and prove your pride and bottom line. I will never stop you."

"Second." Mor lowered his fingers and pointed at the empty spot on the dissection table.

"Utilize the uniqueness of this God Domain, utilize the reconstruction Law here. We will merge with these monsters."

"One thousand years is enough for us to utilize the resources here, Breakthrough to Diamond Rank, and even Breakthrough to Transcendence!"

Mor's voice was full of temptation and confidence.

"As long as we survive these one thousand years, we can kill our way out of the Time Light Cocoon with invincible power."

"By then, who will care what skin we are wearing?"

In the laboratory, only the breathing of the stitched monsters on the dissection tables echoed.

The Adjutant sat slumped on the floor, his mind blank.

Mor's words were like a sledgehammer, shattering his worldview.

He knew that what Mor said was the truth.

Those overwhelming insect swarms outside, those Demon Trees capable of draining Diamond Rank powerhouses dry.

If their group of remnants rushed out, they wouldn't even be enough to fill the gaps between the teeth.

However, accept the modification?

The Adjutant took a look at Carter on the second table.

There was no longer the spirit of the past in his eyes, only endless pain and a turbidity that was gradually being swallowed by beastly instincts.

Can becoming like that really be considered living?

Mor did not urge him.

He stood in place, the cutting knife in his hand swaying gently.

An imperceptible murderous intent locked onto the Adjutant.

The Adjutant felt the chill on his neck.

He understood that if he refused, Mor would kill him on the spot and then move his corpse onto the dissection table as well.

Compromise meant becoming a beast, becoming a stitched monster that he himself loathed.

Resist, and he couldn't even take one move from Mor.