Chapter 133: Healing

Central Laboratory Cafeteria.

The air was thick with a variety of tantalizing aromas, so fragrant that they stirred the appetite of anyone nearby.

Charles and Tiffany sat together as they always did. After a few days of simple companionship, fueled by the siren call of gourmet food, he had become her closest friend—or, as one might call it, a "dining partner." It was the quintessential definition of a "fair-weather friend," a bond built purely on the foundation of fine cuisine.

After polishing off a massive amphibian leg in under half a minute, Tiffany wiped the corner of her mouth and said, "Charles, could you come out with me after the evening party?"

*Huh? Is this moving too fast? Are we going on a date already?*

A thought flashed through Charles’s mind, and he asked, somewhat stunned, "Sure. But could you tell me what it’s about?"

"I want to ask for your help in saving someone. Consider it a favor I owe you," she said, biting her lip and meeting his gaze with a calm expression.

"I’m not exactly a doctor... Why not ask someone else?" Charles feigned surprise.

"I have no friends, and I have no money. I’ve tried to help her, but I couldn't," Tiffany replied candidly. She spoke these words without a shred of shame, as if she were discussing someone else’s affairs, her tone open and natural.

"Of course I will. After all, you’re my friend, and friends should help each other," Charles said with a smile, having already understood her circumstances thoroughly.

She bore the heavy burden of restoring an empire, having been trained like a boy since childhood. Coupled with the aid of her bloodline, she possessed astonishing talent in martial arts; at only eighteen, she had reached the General rank, boasting the formidable combat power to face a thousand foes alone.

Yet, it was useless. Compared to a Spirit Master, she was not even worth mentioning, for a General-rank warrior could not even shatter the protective aura of an ordinary Spirit Master; she could only deal with novices. If her opponent possessed mental-type abilities or some form of innate talent, she would be just like Marcus was before—completely defenseless against Firefly’s attacks, left to be slaughtered at will!

Having no friends and no money—it was clearly a heartbreaking situation. But for Tiffany, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from those who coveted her beauty, few were willing to offer her genuine sincerity. Because her way of carrying herself was no different from a man’s, even though she was beautiful, she was dismissed as a violent woman, making her entirely unwelcome in this world where strength was revered above all else.

Most critically, she was an Evolved Warrior—a monster who could mutate and die at any moment.

Evolved Warriors were touted as an epoch-making achievement, but to many Spirit Masters, these pioneers were merely lab rats, pitiful existences.

"When are we leaving?" Charles, well aware of this, continued straightforwardly.

"If possible, I’d like to go as soon as possible." Tiffany stared at him, expressionless, looking as though she were worried he might refuse—a look that reminded Charles of an internet meme about being targeted by a dragon.

"Fine. Tell me the specifics, and I’ll be ready to go with you after I finish my preparations."

An hour and a half later, Charles accelerated his task list, and the two left the Central Laboratory together. Tiffany had specifically come to his workspace to wait for him, leaving a gossiping researcher in awe. As they left, the researcher gave him a lecherous smile and whispered, "Stay safe, don't get..."

Charles felt a bit speechless; some people were truly governed by their lower halves, incapable of thinking of anything else.

...

The two transferred three times via chinchilla-carriage before finally arriving at a small port town on the southeastern corner of the island.

Molent enforced strict entry and exit regulations. Over ninety percent of the commoners who settled there did so under the guarantee of a relative who was a Spirit Master. Once they chose to settle on the island, they could never leave without authorization; otherwise, they would never be allowed back in. Fishing was permitted, however; the area within a dozen kilometers of Molent Island served as a fishing ground, accessible at any time except during closed seasons.

If one ventured beyond that range, they would be repatriated by special forces stationed on the ocean. These "special forces" were not humans, but a group of bio-engineered creatures—colossal ocean monsters that were terrifying to the common folk, who trembled at the mere mention of them.

After stepping off the carriage, a small fishing village appeared in their line of sight.

It consisted of only a few dozen households, with some fishermen just returning from the sea, their boats full of catch. A whale-ship was docked at the small pier, and several elegantly dressed people were stepping off, seemingly searching for something.

The two paid them no mind. Tiffany led him into the village, stopping with practiced familiarity in front of an ordinary house. She reached out and unlatched the fence gate with ease, calling out to the inside, "Vian, I’ve brought someone."

"The door isn't locked, come in..." a weak, listless voice drifted from within.

Tiffany pushed the door open and walked in. Charles followed, silently observing the interior and comparing it to the images in his memory.

It was a very humble house.

There were no extra decorations in the room; the bare walls and the pitted, uneven floor gave a visceral impression of the occupant's living conditions. In the inner room, a young girl in loose white pajamas sat quietly on the bed by the window. When she saw them approach, a smile appeared on her pale, paper-white face.

"Sister Tiffany, you’ve gone to such trouble again." The girl’s beautiful amber eyes shifted, looking at Charles with curiosity. "Who is this?"

"This is a friend I invited to treat you. You can call him Brother Charles," Tiffany said, walking over to touch the girl’s forehead, a trace of gentleness appearing on her usually stoic face.

"Brother Charles," the girl called out sweetly.

"Hello, little Vian. Please cooperate with the treatment," Charles said with a smile. He set down the case he had brought and began taking out surgical instruments one by one.

He glanced at Tiffany. "Then, shall we begin?"

"Yes."

She nodded, closed the door and all the windows, and took out five small glowing orbs powered by source crystals. They shone like hundred-watt incandescent bulbs, illuminating the entire room.

"Don't worry. You only need to sleep for a little while, and when you wake up, everything will be better."

Charles reached out to cradle the girl’s cheeks. A faint purple light swirled in his eyes as his voice grew increasingly gentle. "Now, look into my eyes. You are very sleepy; you are going to fall into a deep sleep..."

"So sleepy..."

The young girl closed her eyes, her breathing becoming even and soft as she drifted into a deep slumber.

With the aid of his powerful mental attributes, he had self-taught a skill similar to Firefly’s, capable of instantly hypnotizing those with weak mental strength.

A flicker of confusion crossed Tiffany’s eyes, but it vanished in an instant. Watching his profile, she couldn't help but feel a surge of deep wariness.

Next, Charles reached out to lift the quilt and slowly removed the girl’s undergarments, revealing her naked body to his sight...