Chapter 335: The Descent of a God?

Dean Wang, dressed in a pristine white coat and wearing a pair of immaculate gloves, moved seriously around the room.

He meticulously checked each piece of sophisticated equipment.

The white gloves carefully connected those instruments to the power, testing their functions.

"The Bai family and that Zombie King all qualify for experimentation in this room. If we can uncover the true core data of Superpower Users and zombies, creating gods will be incredibly easy for us."

Dean Wang’s weathered eyes fixed unwaveringly on each precise piece of equipment, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement.

It was close; very soon they would be able to create gods.

Not just his son, he could effortlessly create more gods.

What does it matter if he has no superpower? By then, he will be the creator, the god of creation.

Wang Ge sat expressionlessly on a chair, allowing Dean Wang to fantasize without saying a word.

Whether researching Superpower Users or zombies, it made no difference to him.

He only longed for everyone to feel the pain he once endured, just like him.

Turning the world into hell seemed like an interesting endeavor.

"Creating gods, something generations of ancestors have yearned and aspired to do, and now, in my generation, it will become reality."

Dean Wang cautiously retrieved a book from his pocket, his gloved fingers trembling slightly.

The sound of pages being turned could be heard.

Dean Wang’s aged eyes landed on one of the pages.

On it was a drawing.

This book was a reproduction of ancient writings, appearing somewhat blurred.

A vague image of a strange creature could be seen.

The creature had a human face, its body dragon-like or snake-like.

Even just a reproduced image, the sense of history overwhelmed, carrying an oppressive force humans found hard to gaze upon.

Below the drawing were some indistinct words, suggesting what was written.

God of Zhong Mountain, named Zhu Yin, opens eyes as day, closes them as night, breaths for winter, exhales for summer, neither drinks nor eats, does not rest, breathes for wind, stretches thousands of miles.

Dean Wang stared intently at the drawing, appearing slightly mad.

"It’s close, close, the time and circumstances are right, the god is about to descend."

As he said this, Dean Wang trembled, clearly frantic about the image, yet spoke facing Wang Ge.

Wang Ge glanced blankly at the frantic old man, his eyes moved subtly.

"What did you put in my head?"

Wang Ge asked seemingly unintentionally.

He could feel something in his head. Before the apocalypse, he went to large hospitals to take scans, wanting to know exactly what was placed in his head.

Unfortunately, no hospital could give a definitive answer.

All the images were blurry, roughly the size of a thumb.

Some doctors speculated it might be a tumor, others a possible blood clot.

Whatever it was, the conclusion was that it couldn’t be removed via craniotomy.

Because that thing was located at the hypothalamus, the surgery would be too risky.

No hospital was willing to do the surgery.

Wang Ge’s eyes deepened.

This kind of craniotomy, at his so-called father Dean Wang’s place, had been done many times.

And every person undergoing such surgery was his son.

"I placed something in you that could make you a god."

Dean Wang looked past Wang Ge as if seeing the advent of a god.

Wang Ge glanced at the book in Dean Wang’s hand, a flicker of fierceness crossed his eyes, seemingly irritated, he stood and walked out.

"Wang Ge, your injuries aren’t healed yet. Remember to absorb the crystal core well, recover your internal injuries."

Watching Wang Ge’s back, Dean Wang quickly added a sentence.

After Wang Ge came back from the Zombie Village last time, he suffered severe internal injuries.

Especially his brainwaves, which became extremely chaotic.

Forcing the zombies to explode would cause brain damage.

And Wang Ge’s brain was the hope and legacy of Hua Tuo’s line for hundreds of years.

No matter what, it mustn’t be damaged.

Wang Ge didn’t respond to Dean Wang’s words, walking straight out.

Because he understood that Dean Wang’s concern wasn’t because he was his son, but because of the thing in his brain.

Fiercely, Wang Ge hurled himself onto his bed in his room.

Though Dean Wang didn’t say, Wang Ge vaguely suspected what it was.

Before the apocalypse, he didn’t understand its nature, but after the apocalypse, he understood.

It must be a crystal core.

Superpower Users, mutant animals, and zombies all had crystal cores in their brains.

Before the apocalypse, while he could use brainwaves and superpowers, it was terribly weak.

Compared to ordinary people, he was just slightly more powerful.

After the apocalypse, his powers surged wildly.

The energy in his brain was no different from that of Superpower Users.

This indicated that his so-called father opened his brain and implanted a crystal core.

But at that time, there was no apocalypse, no zombies, no Superpower Users.

The crystal core in Dean Wang’s hands, could it have been passed down ancestrally?

Wang Ge’s eyes squinted dangerously, clutching a regular crystal core.

All crystal cores, once extracted from the body, can no longer be infused with energy.

The crystal core would gradually lose its energy and turn into waste residue.

This would be a long process.

According to this cursed research institute, an ordinary crystal core would take a hundred years to become waste residue.

The higher the level of the crystal core, the longer it lasts.

Wang Ge’s eyes drifted toward the pictures on the wall.

His room was adorned with strange images, all posted by Dean Wang.

All were bizarre creatures with human faces and snake or dragon bodies.

The supposed image of Zhu Jiuyin.

Wang Ge’s mouth curved in a dangerous smirk.

Ha, his so-called father truly harbors some delusional aspirations.

Does he really believe the gods he creates will heed him?

Once a god becomes a god, who’s to say the god won’t destroy the creator?

Wang Ge shot a cold glance in the direction of Dean Wang’s room, his gaze icier than a serpent’s.

...

Zombie Village.

Several days had passed.

The rotting flesh on Leng Yebai’s face had diminished, even forming a layer of dark brown scabs.

The blood flowing from him was no longer black, but a faint shade of brown.

Somewhere between red and black.

Leng Yebai’s urge for blood was lessening, no longer overwhelmed by a rampant and violent emotion at the scent of humans.

Leng Yebai dragged a chair and reclined in the yard, basking in the sunlight.

Gazing at the blazing sun, he could actually feel a hint of warmth.

Sensations were gradually returning.

He knew he was truly on the verge of becoming human again.

Contentedly squinting his eyes, enjoying a sunbath.

Vaguely, he sensed a silhouette ahead, blocking the warm sun.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw Zhang Yiming.

"Move aside, you’re blocking my sunlight."

Leng Yebai lazily opened his eyes, weakly waving his hand, indicating for Zhang Yiming to move away from the sun.

Where there was still rotting flesh, there was obviously a decayed scent, akin to the stench of zombies.

Leng Yebai didn’t want to reek so foully, and every day sat in the yard soaking up the sun.

Afraid Bai Xiqin might find it distasteful.

Zhang Yiming cast a glance at the languid Leng Yebai, quietly stepping two steps aside.

"I’m here to take some blood for testing."

Zhang Yiming calmly produced a syringe thicker than Bai Yifan’s arm.

Leng Yebai: ...