CHAPTER 354: CHAPTER 133 SCHOLARS

Balder did not keep Bologue waiting for long. After a while, he led Bologue to a familiar place.

"Is it here again?"

Bologue glanced at the surgery table that could transform into a bathtub, and the array-covered ground beneath his feet, resembling a ritual platform.

This was the very place where Bologue initially implanted the Alchemy Matrix. He remembered destroying most of it, but was surprised to find that the Sublimation Furnace Core had repaired it.

"It’s like staying true to the original intention."

A familiar voice sounded, and Belli stood not far away, waving at Bologue.

They pushed a heavy cart filled with sealed containers, each containing the alchemical materials needed for this trial.

Inside the area, many researchers were at work, dragging cables to connect to power, as the lights lit up one by one, and Ether encircled the air.

Every time Bologue saw these, he felt strange, as if preparing for surgery or repairing a large machine.

He had been here once before, and Bologue was very familiar with the process. He stepped aside and took off his top, folding it neatly.

This time, Bologue didn’t casuallydetach a large number of weapons from his body, there was only a cold serpentine entity coiled around him. Once Ether was released, the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid dispersed like mercury, filling the pre-prepared container.

Bologue stretched his body forcefully. It might become painful next, so he relaxed his muscles.

"Should I lie directly on it?" Bologue asked.

"Yes, leave the rest to us," Belli nodded. "What you need to do is endure the pain."

Enduring pain was an easy task for Bologue.

Lying flat on the surgery table, the gentle light filled Bologue’s vision, involuntarily bringing back memories of that moment.

It’s saddening that Teda, who implanted the Alchemy Matrix within him, had disappeared, becoming his enemy, and may even perish by his own hands or someone else’s.

"You know what’s going to happen next, right?"

Belli’s voice echoed, and then she appeared in his line of sight, blocking a large portion of the light.

"The triple trials, like an alternative embedding ritual," Bologue recalled the knowledge he had acquired, "relying on the ritual to allow the Alchemy Matrix to continue growing until it reaches the Second Stage."

"Good that you know, remember to stay conscious and control your Alchemy Matrix," Belli instructed once more.

Bologue nodded, breathing deeply. Suddenly, he noticed that there were some changes compared to before, such as an observation window added at a height, vaguely visible with several shadows standing behind it.

They were probably the alchemists from the Scholars’ Hall, as Belli had mentioned. They wanted to observe him.

"He still looks the same, truly evocative."

Behind the observation window, an old man sitting in a wheelchair said in a low voice.

When he first met Bologue, they were about the same age, but upon meeting again, he had become an old man, yet Bologue still looked the same, unchanged.

"Bologue Lazarus... I’d really like to fully research him."

Another hoarse voice sounded, belonging to another elderly person, hunchbacked like a dried corpse, wearing an oxygen mask on his face.

"So why allow such a guy to regain freedom? Not to mention mastering Extraordinary Power."

"What exactly did he trade with the Devil?"

"Why did the Decision Room choose to hire him?"

The elderly whispered among themselves, their voices rising and falling.

They had all been involved in researching Bologue, and over the years, relying on the medical technology of the Border Sanatorium, the elderly survived on with difficulty in the darkness.

The sound of violent coughing echoed, followed by medical personnel rushing in, taking the elderly person out for emergency treatment.

The others were used to it; their lifespans had long reached their end, with death’s breath entwining them as a companion.

By the doorway, Yas watched the elderly being carried out, his expression subtle, but he remained silent.

These old guys looked like they were dying, yet each was an extremely powerful alchemist, an important asset of the Order Bureau.

Each year, a vast amount of funding is spent on keeping these old guys alive, just to allow their wrecked bodies to last a little longer.

Gazing around, Yas easily identified the important figures among them.

The old man wearing a respiratory mask had produced numerous Alchemy Armaments during his life, with a significant portion being incorporated into the Order Bureau’s standard equipment, like the folding knife and Arm of Adaptation.

The wheelchair-bound old man was adept at Void Domain Technology; he optimized the Serenity Defense Line and repaired parts of the Ruins District, returning them to the Cultivation Room.

Some elderly didn’t have particularly specific achievements, but they had all participated in the writing of the "Golden Thesis."

These old guys were extremely important, which is why Yas personally came today to handle security.

Except for Overlord Xilin, no one could venture deep into the Cultivation Room. Yas’s security appeared somewhat excessive, but only those who truly understood knew that Yas wasn’t guarding against external threats but was cautious of Bologue.

Those who participated in Bologue’s implantation ceremony understood the chaos he had caused at the time. Back then, these old fellows wanted to observe the ceremony, but research issues prevented their arrival.

Luckily, they didn’t come; their frail bodies wouldn’t have withstood such turmoil. With past lessons learned, Yas needed to protect them from being affected by Bologue this time.

The accident failed to interrupt the elders’ conversation, but another deep breath suddenly cut the discussion silent.

The deep breathing gradually approached, sounding like a howling gale rushing through pipes, generating a profound echo.

They all turned their heads, accompanied by the breathing, with the tapping sound of a cane striking the ground.

The old fellows saw the newcomer, an unclear figure—not exactly sure if it counted as human.

Its decrepit face was ghastly like a devil, with skin clinging to the bones, veins visibly clear.

He was barefoot, and with each step, one could see his age-spotted soles, alternating with a metallic prosthetic limb.

An external trachea was inserted in his throat, where the raspy deep breaths originated. The loose white robe clung to his body, outlining angular protrusions in the abdomen, as if his flesh was replaced by some sort of machinery.

The strange breathing persisted, trailing behind the white-robed elderly man was a small cart carrying a mobile ventilator, along with many complex devices that together formed the life-support apparatus keeping the old man alive.

Upon arriving at the observation window, the medical staff brought a chair. They had always wanted to make a special wheelchair for the white-robed elder, but he sternly refused, insisting on measuring the earth with his body, not wanting to be confined to cold steel.

After the white-robed elder stopped, the life-support device behind him injected potion into the IV line, soon flowing into the withered body, easing his physical pain considerably.

His dim and muddy gaze settled on Bologue, and after a moment, he nodded with a smile.

"He still looks the same, just like when I first saw him."

No one responded to the words of the white-robed elder; the other elders were frozen in place, looking as if they had seen a ghost.

The elders, unlike the Undead, were not long-lived, but throughout their lives had witnessed many storms. Yet, the appearance of the white-robed elder left them shocked, like young people.

"Teacher?" One of the elderly tentatively asked.

"Oh? You’re not dead yet?"

The white-robed elder turned his head, seemingly recognizing the other, speaking in a hoarse voice.

The other hesitated for a moment, just about to say something when his expression suddenly twitched, clutching his chest, and uncontrollably collapsed.

"Doctor! Doctor!"

Seeing this, Yas quickly shouted, but immediately, after others confirmed the identity of the white-robed elder, wave upon wave of alarms sounded.

The Cultivation Room wasn’t invaded; rather, the life-support devices of these elders set off the alarms.

The heart rates skyrocketed, blood pressures were maxed out, their chests heaved violently. A few overexerted themselves, the small ECG showed a flat line, their heads slumped to the side, collapsing onto wheelchairs.

"Master!"

This time, it was the medical staff’s turn to panic; it would have been alright if just one incident happened, but how could everyone fall ill all at once? There was no way to save them all.

All these years, these elders had been living well, yet today they all suddenly dropped dead here?

Yas was also stunned; if these guys were going to die, they better not die during his tenure. Dying in such a group would have the deputy director kill him, and what was the necessity to die together like this? Was there some shared sympathy?

Soon, these renowned Alchemy Masters fell like dead fish, leaving only a few with remaining consciousness, wanting to say something, but unable to get the words out clearly.

The white-robed elder glanced around. Just as Yas was about to do something, he lifted his cane, then forcefully struck the ground.

Instantly, the Ether surged wildly, a sudden impact stunned Yas in place, and simultaneously, a green glowing light rose, conjuring countless twigs out of thin air, growing madly over the elders, rooting deep into their flesh.

Yas stood in place, not intentionally dazed, but completely unable to move—the powerful Ether pressure rendered him immobile.

The elders’ Rectangular Soul Critical was easily breached, the Ether pervaded the Alchemy Matrix inside, then unleashed a burst of vigorous life.

The elders who were at death’s door all gradually came back, their various indicators returning to normal values. After a brief moment of disorientation, they awkwardly climbed back into their wheelchairs.

The medical staff froze, unsure of what to do.

"Teacher, if you weren’t dead, couldn’t you have said something earlier?"

The elder who fell first got back up, clutching his heart, saying with a lingering fear, "I’m an old thing too; my heart can’t take such a strain."

"Indeed, indeed."

The others echoed, everyone was quite troubled by the white-robed elder’s mischief.

A person dead for decades suddenly appears before you; anyone would be startled, especially them in their advanced age.

The white-robed elder didn’t mind these comments; he merely glanced at Bologue on the operating table and gestured.

"Let them begin."