I'm Trapped in the Block

"I’m going to put this footage in the animation."

The robed figures’ ritual looked more and more bizarre. After finishing his recording, Bai Zhou said with disgust, "This is even more disgusting than the rituals of my Fishman Race."

When the entire sphere of blood had flowed back into them, the robed figures sat on their chairs, savoring the sensation. They looked utterly blissful.

"Get ready to move."

Seizing the opportunity, Bai Zhou crouched down and moved forward, using water-flow tentacles to pierce through several of the robed figures who were still lost in their ecstasy.

Mo Ling also sped up his teleportation, specifically targeting the strange organs near the hearts of the remaining robed figures.

Soon, the robed figures, now deprived of their strange organs, collapsed to the ground one after another, never to get up again.

Mo Ling casually tossed the organs onto the ground. Bai Zhou was quite interested when he saw them.

"Does removing this kind of organ cause cardiac arrest?"

Bai Zhou reached this conclusion after learning about the ability of the Block from Li Luo.

"The one who lost the ability to speak earlier... I’m guessing the organ near its brain was removed."

Bai Zhou quickly figured out why that robed figure had been moving its mouth without making a sound.

He explained to Li Luo, "I discovered earlier that attacking the general area near their hearts causes extremely fatal damage. It seems their weak point isn’t the heart, but this overgrown organ."

"Keep an eye out for me." Bai Zhou took a scalpel from his backpack, set up his camera, and began to dissect one of the fallen robed figures.

"The blood vessels are blocked by a foreign substance... the heart stopped beating after the overgrown organ near it was removed..."

As he dissected, he showed the various parts of the robed figure’s corpse to the camera, providing a detailed commentary.

Once he was finished, he took off his gloves, put away the camera, and said "Thanks" to Li Luo.

"That might have been a bit gory," Bai Zhou said apologetically.

Li Luo didn’t mind. "It’s fine. I found it quite interesting."

Indeed, while Bai Zhou was dissecting, Li Luo had been watching from the side with great interest, extremely curious about the robed figures’ anatomy.

"Then you can help me with the animation," Bai Zhou said, his eyes lighting up.

He walked over to another intact corpse, stripped off its robe, and handed it to Li Luo.

"Put this on. They won’t be able to tell the difference."

Bai Zhou found another one for himself and put it on.

But his diving helmet was too big for the robe’s hood to fit over, so he simply went without the hood, keeping his helmet on.

As Bai Zhou was adjusting his robe, a sheepskin book fell out of the pocket.

The book was pitch-black and poorly made. Its cover was caked with the same rotten debris the robed figures had intended to mix into their blood.

Surprised, Bai Zhou immediately picked up the book. He didn’t open it right away, though. Instead, he placed it on one of the robed figures’ chairs.

Then he turned his camera on again and pointed it at the book.

"Be careful of contamination."

He told Li Luo to turn away, and he himself avoided looking at the pages. He slowly flipped through the book with his hand. Only after he had gone through the entire book did he connect the camera to an electronic screen and start the playback.

’So cautious.’

Mo Ling marveled internally. It seemed there was a reason Bai Zhou had survived for so long alone in the perilous Black Tower.

Mo Ling’s vision, however, had already passed through the pages, seeing the contents within.

The inside was still a mess of various scripts, jumbled words, and punctuation marks used in ways that made no sense.

The book also contained diagrams of human vascular circuits. Further in were instructions on how to prepare the rotten leaves they had seen earlier, as well as the positioning of the personnel for the ritual.

Although Mo Ling couldn’t understand the chaotic text, he quickly realized this book was the instruction manual for the robed figures’ ritual.

In front of the electronic screen, Bai Zhou and Li Luo also spotted the images.

"If I’m not mistaken, they were performing the ritual according to the methods recorded in here," Bai Zhou said grimly.

He took another look at the sheepskin book, then went over to the other robed figures and began to search their bodies.

Sure enough, the other dead robed figures also had these crudely made sheepskin books on them.

Mo Ling’s vision dipped into them again and found that the contents of all the books were identical. They were all guides on how to perform the ritual.

They included the principles of the ritual, material preparation, and the ritual process. Although the books were crudely made, their content was incredibly detailed.

However, since Mo Ling could only understand the images, he didn’t know the specific details and could only guess at the book’s general subject.

’Who made this stuff?’

Why were all these robed figures "cultivating" according to the contents of this book?

Mo Ling couldn’t figure it out.

They clearly already possessed a power similar to "Word Spirit". They just had to wait for the distortion to spread, and that power would grow even stronger.

’Could it be a form of sacrifice?’

’If so, who is the object of the sacrifice? The source of the distortion?’

After carefully examining the images in the book again, Mo Ling found no religious content. It just seemed like a perfectly ordinary "instruction manual."

Meanwhile, Bai Zhou and Li Luo were busy searching for information.

Books containing "unknown knowledge" like this were common in the Abyss. This knowledge would often twist the reader’s mind.

The purpose of most of these books was to subtly mutate the reader, turning them into a subordinate of the book’s creator.

To this end, the knowledge in the books usually offered a shortcut to greater power, making it easy to lure the greedy astray.

It might be some sort of "Cultivation Technique" or "sacrificial ritual."

Based on the general contents of the book, they soon found similar records in the database.

However, what they found wasn’t a book, but a special kind of relic.

...

From ancient times to the present day, people have always been obsessed with immortality and extending their lifespans.

Humanity has always tried every means possible to find a way to live forever. In ancient times, there was Alchemy and Immortal Techniques; in the modern era, there are various gene therapies and cell surgeries.

Their only commonality was that they all scammed the rich.

No matter how childish the scam, with the right packaging, it would always attract the interest of certain people, who would come to believe in it without a doubt.

In the early days of the Great Cataclysm, the frequent appearance of various mysterious powers made many wealthy individuals keenly aware that the world was changing. Thus, they spent fortunes searching for powerful relics.

However, this ostentatious display of wealth only made some scammers all the more rampant.

Martin was one of them. He was a highly professional con artist who specialized in providing various "wellness" services to the rich.

He was originally a medical student who had graduated from a prestigious university, but after graduation, he chose a different path from his classmates, not joining any of the famous major hospitals.

Instead, he became a "master."

"Ma’am, you might be interested in our research. Our team injected blood plasma from young mice into elderly mice and found that it significantly improved the latter’s cognitive abilities and restored their skin’s elasticity."

In the office, Martin was holding a laptop, presenting his research to a wealthy, aging woman whose looks had faded.

On the screen were various comparison photos of the mice, along with all sorts of flashy, exaggerated data.

Hearing about the restored skin elasticity, the wealthy woman was tempted, but she remained hesitant. "Mr. Martin, I know you have a great reputation in this field, but will it really work for me?"

Martin smiled. "Of course. This isn’t some kind of witchcraft that requires the subject to have a specific constitution. This is science. It works for everyone."

The wealthy woman nodded. "I only came here after seeing how radiant my friend looked recently. I had to ask her for a long time before I could track you down. By the way, Mr. Martin, what was the name of your therapy again?"

Martin took out a document. On it were rows of certifications from professional institutions. In the middle, printed neatly, were a few words:

"Blood Exchange Therapy."