The moment Lang Lin saw the blood spilling from the chickens' throats, his thoughts turned to the vial of ancient bone giant's blood hidden in his dimensional ring.
Ordinary blood was used in accidents to sustain life. But what if he injected that blood into a living being?
Too dangerous. Far too dangerous to try on himself. He would need a test subject first.
Like a chicken.
Yes, he would experiment on animals.
After all, throughout history, mankind had always tested new medicines on animals before themselves. Antibiotics, vaccines, countless failures and trials had paved the way to success.
And the blood of a low-tier bone giant, from another dimension and brimming with unknown power, had to be tested the same way.
His eyes lit up. Chickens were common, cheap, and easy to obtain. Perfect subjects.
As for the so-called "Emperor Chickens" that Zhang Bao had bought, they were just ordinary chickens at a ridiculous price. That fool had only wanted meat and was gullible enough to believe the shopkeeper's words.
"Bao, after lunch, go buy me two more chickens," Lang Lin instructed.
"Does Boss want Emperor Chickens again?"
Lang Lin ground his teeth. "I don't want any stupid Emperor Chickens. I want cheap, young chickens. If you bring me old hens or more of that emperor nonsense, you're out of here."
Young chickens had more vitality. Injecting ancient blood into an old bird would only kill it instantly.
"…Understood, Boss," Zhang Bao muttered, face downcast. He didn't want to be thrown out. This place gave him food—if he lost that, what would he eat?
Lang Lin sighed and turned to head back inside, only to pause mid-step. Stroking his chin, he murmured, "Ah, almost forgot. I'll need syringes."
Injecting blood directly required tools. He only had ten liters of giant's blood. Letting animals drink it would be a total waste. A syringe was the only way.
He wasn't a doctor, but injections weren't rocket science, especially on animals. And if they died? So what.
"When you buy the chickens, pick up some syringes too," Lang Lin added.
"Syringes?" Zhang Bao blinked.
"For injections. Get the smallest size. The pharmacy should have them." Lang Lin handed him two hundred yuan.
Zhang Bao beamed. A hundred yuan was more than enough for two chickens, and the rest could cover syringes.
With everything arranged, Lang Lin finally relaxed. He lay back and drifted into an unplanned nap.
"Boss, lunch is ready."
Lang Lin awoke to Zhang Bao's voice. Blinking groggily, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Done already?" he asked.
Zhang Bao nodded. Together they washed up and sat down to eat.
Eight dishes graced the table: one roasted chicken, golden and fragrant, and another stewed until tender. Two vegetable dishes, the rest were meat.
Lang Lin took a bite of the stew first.
The chopsticks barely touched the chicken before the meat fell apart, releasing a glistening juice.
"What's this liquid?" he wondered aloud, slipping a piece into his mouth.
The flesh melted like butter on his tongue. He hardly needed to chew. The "juice" was broth locked inside the fibers, flavor concentrated to perfection.
"…Delicious. I never knew food could taste this good."
For so long, his meals had been instant noodles. They were cheap, simple—his foster father's only option. The old man had raised him alone, pouring everything into his education. It hadn't been easy.
And now that man was gone.
A wave of bitterness welled up in Lang Lin's chest. If only he were here to see this, to share this.
But it was impossible.
He swallowed hard, pushing down the grief. One day, I'll make those who wronged us pay.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the open window. The air was hot and heavy, leaving Lang Lin restless. He waited for Zhang Bao to return from errands, but the fool was taking far too long. Could he be lost?
Unlikely. Zhang Bao was huge and knew the area well.
Unless, of course, he had gone off to eat.
The thought darkened Lang Lin's face. Zhang Bao was a glutton through and through. Lunch had barely been enough to satisfy him.
The door opened. Zhang Bao entered, holding two squawking chickens in one hand and a box in the other.
Lang Lin's eyes narrowed. The syringes.
"Follow me," he ordered, leading the giant to the backyard.
There was an old woodshed there, empty of firewood. Perfect for housing his new subjects.
"Keep them here. And listen carefully—no one enters this place without my permission. Not even you."
The experiments, the blood, the dimensional ring—they had to remain secret. Zhang Bao might be stupid, but caution was everything.
"Yes, Boss." Zhang Bao tied the chickens in a corner, handed over the box of syringes, and left without complaint.
Back inside the shed, Lang Lin exhaled and cracked a smile that curved unsettlingly at the edges. He opened the package.
Inside lay rows of syringes. Each one was marked for 50 units, with thin, gleaming needles.
"…This should be small enough," he muttered. He had no real medical knowledge, but they looked fine to him.
"Alright… let's begin."
From his ring, he drew forth the black jar. The blood of the low-tier bone giant shimmered within.
The moment he loosened the lid, a hiss, like a demon screaming, slithered into his ears. His vision swam red. Blood and qi within him surged violently, spiraling out of control.
So much raw energy—far greater than the pure qi he gained from water-breathing.
"No… I can't let it run rampant…"
Gritting his teeth, he jabbed the syringe into the jar, drawing it full. Then he sealed the lid tight, chest heaving, sweat streaming down his face.
Slowly, painfully, his eyes returned from crimson to black.
He stared at the syringe in his trembling hand. It was filled to the brim with power.
"I can feel it… the qi in this blood is insane. What will happen if I inject it into a chicken?"
A wicked smile tugged at his lips as he raised the needle, inching closer to the struggling bird in the corner.