Chapter 140

140

The extracted ribs were a pale, lustrous gold and surprisingly heavy. It took three researchers working together just to drag them away.

The system murmured, No meat on those. Can't make braised ribs. But for soup stock… the flavor would be exquisite.

Lu Yan: "Really?"

…You're not actually considering it, are you?

Lu Yan turned to Researcher C. "These ribs… ahem. How will they be stored?"

"Ah, they'll be placed in a special containment vessel for now. Tang Xian'an can decide what to do with them when he wakes, though there will be a custodial fee. About 50 contribution points per day."

Lu Yan gave a slight nod. After changing clothes, he headed for the recovery ward.

Following a procedure, the attending physician always made their rounds.

A faint, metallic scent of blood lingered in the private room.

Though Tang Xian'an had grown eighteen pairs of ribs, the gaps between them were narrow. Their removal wouldn't hinder his mobility.

The staff member monitoring his vitals stood up, reporting with tense formality. "Report, Dr. Lu. All post-operative indicators are normal. The incision sites have already begun healing!"

The self-recovery abilities of an Awakener were always formidable.

Lu Yan pulled on a pair of gloves. Through the thin hospital gown, he pressed his fingers against Tang Xian'an's side. "Does this hurt?"

Tang Xian'an's golden eyes fixed on his face. After a brief pause, he answered, "Yes."

"What about here?"

His reply was utterly earnest. "That also hurts a little."

The system snorted. Liar. He's not in pain. Keep touching him like that and he'll get a different kind of stiff.

Lu Yan stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Tang Xian'an asked, "Doctor, am I going to be alright?"

His tail slipped over the edge of the bed, its tip brushing lightly against Lu Yan's calf.

Lu Yan signed the chart with a flourish. "It's hopeless. Prepare for the end."

The system cheered as if witnessing a sporting miracle. Yes! Perfect response!

Tang Xian'an had no choice but to recant. "It doesn't hurt."

Lu Yan gave another slight nod. "Good. Focus on a speedy recovery."

He turned to leave, one foot already lifted to check the other rooms, before remembering the other patients hadn't been scheduled for surgery yet.

Tang Xian'an threw back the covers. "It's late. Let's sleep, Yan Yan."

Sleep, in this case, meant just that.

Changed into pajamas, Lu Yan lay down beside him. "It really doesn't hurt?"

"A little. But I've had wounds far worse than this before."

In the darkness, Tang Xian'an found Lu Yan's hand and held it.

If the injury were truly severe, he'd never mention it, afraid of causing worry. But a minor ache? He couldn't resist saying it, trading it for a sliver of tenderness.

Lu Yan thought for a moment. "I didn't say I liked you because I felt sorry for you."

"I know." Tang Xian'an's grip tightened slightly. "I just hope…"

"Hope what?" Lu Yan's expression was puzzled.

Tang Xian'an leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against Lu Yan's. "I hope Yan Yan will love me a little more."

*

Reports concerning the surgery arrived at headquarters even faster than those about the "Slaughterhouse."

That same night, department heads across the globe received notifications for an emergency video conference. The last time a meeting of this scale was convened was during the "Blood Moon Incident." This placed "Global Pollution Index Spike" and "High-Level Awakener Corruption Regression" on equal footing in the eyes of the brass.

Despite being suspended without pay for procedural violations, Ji Wen's face glowed with a festive joy, as if celebrating the new year.

"If this procedure can be standardized, the worldwide demand for healing-type Awakeners could be drastically reduced."

Tang Xian'an's recovery progressed so ideally that within a week, researchers from every corner of the world descended upon the institute for observation.

"Recovery is indeed excellent."

"The corruption reading has dropped!"

"Look at him, fit and robust. He's got at least twenty more years of service in him!"

The sheer volume of visitors eventually wore down even Tang Xian'an's famously patient demeanor, forcing him to decline further guests. Fortunately, the institute's security archives held precious early footage of humanity's domestication of the Tyrant, which could be replayed on demand.

These researchers didn't just come to see Tang Xian'an. They came to see Lu Yan.

Lu Yan was in an operating theater.

Michael was trussed up like a kabob. Researcher C was stuffing wood and kindling beneath the surgical table.

If not for the sterile surroundings, the scene would resemble a cannibalistic feast preparation.

Michael's sky-blue eyes were wide with apprehension. "Does it… does it have to involve fire?"

Lu Yan replied calmly. "Not necessarily. Other methods exist. But fire is the most efficient for plume removal."

In the Slaughterhouse, Michael's corruption had unfortunately breached the 90% threshold after overusing his [Holy Light] ability, earning him the title of Test Subject Number Two.

His pollution source, it turned out, originated from the feathers of his wings.

Other researchers had never considered his feathers a source, as Michael shed copiously in his sleep, often waking to a bed littered with white plumes.

Michael was mournful. "Be honest, Dr. Lu. Is this because you're jealous of my higher online popularity? These new feathers just grew in. I haven't even had time for a photoshoot."

Lu Yan turned to Researcher B with a mild smile. "Could you fetch a gag? The next part may be uncomfortable, and I worry Michael might vocalize."

These days, the researchers in his operating room obeyed without question.

Whether Lu Yan was settling a personal score or not, Michael's mouth was promptly stuffed.

The white feathers singed away under controlled heat, revealing inflamed, pinkish skin beneath. Moments later, a new layer of golden down began to push through.

The scent of rendered fat filled the air—savory, like honey-glazed wings fresh from the oven.

Researcher C's nose twitched. He swallowed. "Smells amazing."

Tweezers in hand, Lu Yan plucked the newly emerged feathers one by one, feeling more like a veterinarian than a surgeon.

After all my years of practice, he thought to the system, I never imagined I'd sink to plucking birds.

Michael isn't a bird… the system began, then conceded. …Well, close enough.

"Speaking of which, back in the Slaughterhouse, Michael's wings smelled like Cajun spice, didn't they?"

He has three pairs, sweetie. The ones near his neck were garlic-sweet and sour.

The procedure itself wasn't technically complex.

Lu Yan set down his scalpel and pushed through the operating room doors. He hadn't taken two steps before he was surrounded.

A senior researcher with thinning white hair thrust a bound thesis into Lu Yan's hands, his own trembling. "Sir Clairaudient! Might you have any interest in mentoring a doctoral candidate? This is my work. I studied medicine as well, you know!"

Beside him, several burly junior researchers immediately tensed. "Professor Zhang! With all due respect, you've contributed a lifetime of distinguished service. It's time to enjoy your retirement! Such arduous work should be left to us!"

Their words might have carried more weight if they weren't simultaneously trying to bodily maneuver the old professor behind them.

Lu Yan surveyed the circle of eager, expectant faces. A strange weight settled in his chest. "My apologies. I have no plans to mentor researchers at this time. My ability to identify pollution sources isn't based on empirical deduction. It relies on my [Devour] talent."

"[Devour], a healing-type ability, actively seeks out the pollution sources within an Awakener."

In a sense, it wasn't a lie.

Lu Yan had once asked the system if the study of pollution sources could be systematized into a proper field.

The answer was no. Evolution was inherently uncontrollable.

Over the following days, Lu Yan performed the procedure on Bai Qiushi, Odin, and finally, Zhou Qimeng.

The sustained, high-intensity use of his talent left Lu Yan's head throbbing.

A strange noise had begun to whisper in his ears—a persistent, liquid rushing sound, like water trapped deep within.

It was deeply uncomfortable.

Surgery itself didn't fatigue him. It was a form of decompression.

But excising a pollution source required constant consultation with the system. The bandwidth needed for that dialogue far exceeded their usual casual chatter.

Gowned and ready, a sudden thought struck Lu Yan. He voiced it aloud. "What is my pollution source?"

The moment the words left his lips, blood erupted from his nose and mouth.

Lu Yan doubled over, coughing violently. Crimson spattered across the sterile floor in a constellation of droplets.

The assisting researcher from the institute paled. "Dr. Lu! Are you alright?! You must take care of yourself!"

Since Lu Yan had revealed his surgical capability, he'd been elevated to the status of a national treasure in the eyes of the research community. His well-being now held the collective nerves of countless individuals in a vice-like grip.

The news hadn't been publicized. Knowledge was restricted to the major institutes and certain high-level officials.

Despair wasn't terrifying. What was terrifying was granting hope, only to snatch it away.

Lu Yan had been clear: the procedure wasn't yet replicable or universally applicable. Thus, only high-level Awakeners on the immediate brink were being prioritized for the operating table, starting with those Lu Yan knew personally.

"Talent overuse," Lu Yan stated, wiping the blood from the floor with paper before tossing it into the incinerator. "It's fine. I'll rest for a few days after this one."

He knew the hemorrhage had nothing to do with the surgery. It was the price for asking a forbidden question.

He entered the operating theater. A quick scan revealed Zhou Qimeng's pollution source was located in his eyes.

Another unfamiliar frontier. Lu Yan pulled out his phone, pulling up a tutorial on ocular surgery.

Zhou Qimeng lay with his hands resting on his abdomen, a familiar tension in his posture. "This feels eerily familiar, Dr. Lu."

The scene felt eerily familiar to Zhou Qimeng. Last time, for the "C-section," Lu Yan had been just as composed and self-assured despite having zero prior experience.

Lu Yan replied, "Yes. It may hurt a bit. You'll need to bear with it. Post-op, you'll experience temporary blindness, but your vision should recover in about a week."

Zhou Qimeng looked at the space above Lu Yan's head. The other man's titles had changed again. The three lines had merged into a single one.

[Dawn's First Light]

A look of profound relief settled in Zhou Qimeng's eyes, glistening with unshed tears. It definitely wasn't from fear of the pain. "That's good. After the surgery... will I be able to go a long time without worrying about my corruption reading?"

"Theoretically, yes," Lu Yan confirmed.

The procedure lasted five hours. Lu Yan meticulously peeled away Zhou Qimeng's corneas and replaced them with new ones.

When it was over, he turned to Researcher C. "I can't perform any more surgeries for now."

Researcher C's brow furrowed, his expression tight with concern. "Understood. You must rest, Dr. Lu."

Lu Yan left the operating theater but didn't go to find Tang Xian'an. Instead, he returned to the private quarters the institute had assigned him.

It was called a single room, but the furnishings mirrored his old apartment in City K, just without the personal touches.

He hadn't checked his own readings since returning from the Slaughterhouse.

Lu Yan unbuttoned his cuff, staring at the fish scales that now reached his wrist. His voice was low. "System."

The system knew exactly what he was asking.

[Spiritual Power Threshold: 9600. Corruption Level: 81.2.]

[The sudden spike in your corruption has pushed your body into a dangerous state. Fortunately, thanks to your discretion, others remain unaware of the specifics.]

"Is it because of the pollution source excision surgeries?"

[Not entirely.] The system's tone grew evasive. [I think... perhaps it's time we went home, my treasure.]

The lingering headache made his thoughts sluggish. "Back to City K?"

[No. Laleye.]