Chương 110: CHAPTER 108: DEAD FLESH ANALYSIS

The rhythmic, mechanical shocks from the campus boundary died down, leaving an unsettling stillness in the basement air. Outside, the heavy iron barrier stakes of the imperial carriages had locked into the cobblestones, walling off the research sector. Inside, the twenty disciples stood at attention around the central platform. None of them looked toward the ceiling. Their focus was locked entirely on Shin.

Shin walked to the back storage alcove and pulled out a heavy lead-lined container marked with triple hazard seals. Clack. He placed the lead box onto the center of the granite slab.

"The vascular loops were the warm-up," Shin said calmly, unlatching the heavy brass clasps.

"Now, we examine why your empire is rotting from the inside out." He lifted the heavy lid. A wave of frigid air poured from the box, carrying a sharp, foul stench of decaying tissue and stagnant mana. Floating inside twenty sealed glass vacuum vials were dark, blackened fragments of human tissue. Unlike normal dead flesh, these specimens wriggled faintly under the cold lamplight, threaded with fine veins of sickly violet mana. Valerius stared at the vials, his breath hitching.

"This... this is the Royal Blood-Rot. The incurable necrosis from the inner palace."

"Take your stations," Shin commanded.

"One sample per pair. Use your non-elemental mana threads to isolate the structural pathways of the infection. Do not use holy mana. Do not use fire." The twenty students moved quickly, carrying the sealed glass dishes back to their stone benches. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. To steady their nerves against the creeping chill and the foul stench, Elia unscrewed the cap of a polished metal flask and poured a pale, crystalline liquid into small ceramic cups for her group.

"Silver-needle white tea," Elia whispered, passing a cup to Valerius.

"Brewed cold with crushed garden mint. It clears the head." Valerius took a quick sip. Gulp. The cold liquid was astringent and crisp, with a sharp, dry bite of premium tea leaves followed immediately by a piercing burst of icy garden mint. The cooling sensation traveled up his sinuses, instantly cutting through the nauseating rot in the air and sharpening his tired vision like a fresh lens. Rudra watched from the edge of the pit, taking a sip from his own cup.

Wah, mint and cold tea really works better than any energy drink. Shin walked between the rows of workstations, his hands resting behind his back.

"Observe the cell clusters," Shin instructed.

"Your imperial court priests claim this rot is a divine curse that requires Tier 6 holy restoration spells. Tell me what happens when holy magic touches this tissue." One of the noble students, a boy named Cassian, channeled a faint spark of golden holy mana through his forceps and touched the edge of the blackened flesh. Sizzle. Instead of purifying the dead tissue, the sample reacted violently.

The blackened cells absorbed the holy mana, swelled into dark purple blisters, and multiplied at triple their original speed, spitting tiny sparks of corrupted energy across the glass dish. Cassian pulled his hands back in horror.

"It... it ate the holy light! It fed on the restoration spell!"

"Because it is not a divine curse," Shin said, his voice cold and analytical.

"It is an active biological pathogen engineered to mimic healthy cellular structures. When you cast holy restoration magic, you are not healing the patient. You are accelerating the growth of the virus and feeding its hunger." A heavy, terrifying realization settled over the twenty students. The inner capital was dying because the High Priests and royal healers were constantly pumping high-density holy mana into infected nobles, actively worsening the epidemic while claiming it was the wrath of the gods.

Valerius gritted his teeth, his hands perfectly steady now thanks to the micro-thread drills.

"Then we don't heal it. We map the core nucleus and isolate the source." Using the fine motor control he had practiced with Elia, Valerius extended a thread of pale, neutral mana thinner than a spider's silk. He slipped the filament deep between the necrotic layers, bypassing the aggressive outer barriers and peeling back the diseased membrane. Step by step, the outer black rot separated.

Underneath the corrupted tissue lay the central core of the pathogen—a glowing, crystalline mana nucleus that controlled the viral spread. Valerius leaned in closer, his analytical lens focusing on the intricate magic signature engraved into the microscopic core. His heart stopped. The mana signature was not an organic monster mutation or an ancient forgotten plague. It was a refined, highly complex imperial spell matrix, carrying the distinct, unmistakable crest of the Crown's own High Mages.