Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 1138: Chapter 628: Formless Flesh_2

However, after feeding it the dissected remains of another Devourer, it actually began to regenerate, showing just how powerful its regenerative abilities were, confirming the possibility of recovery.

This realization made Lance change his initial plan.

If they were all paralyzed, wouldn’t it be easier to control them?

Lance was a pragmatic person, and with some margin for error, he directly began to act, helping them lie still.

The Dark Gold Chains originally intended to imprison them were torn apart by him, dismantling each metal ring and hammering them into iron sheets, which he then cruelly implanted into the spines of the Devourers, physically severing their limbs.

In some ways, the soft metal was easier for him to work with, allowing a single chain to control hundreds of Devourers.

Blowing the horn to attract those Devourers and capture them, the recent commotion had attracted a Giant Devourer, leading to the earlier fight.

Grendel turned back to look at the two still tinkering with the Devourers, reminding them.

"Are you guys done? New experiment materials are here."

Paracelsus abandoned the remains, turning his attention to the giant Devourer.

"This isn’t even the same species, is it?" Paracelsus had captured more than ten earlier, but now this was the first Giant Devourer, indicating its rarity.

"Who knows how the Ascension Sect turned those things into this form. The tentacles and eyeballs were obviously modified." Lance finally completed the last of his work, tossing out the final piece of iron.

"Undeniably, though, the fluid in this thing is a very special anti-corrosion material."

The doctor gestured to Grendel to "drain the blood, I’m going to dissect it."

What extended from Grendel’s sleeve was not pollen, but thorns, slicing through the skin with ease.

This thing had lost its corrosive abilities through modification, and could not corrode the thorns, leaving behind a turbid fluid like pus.

Paracelsus quickly took out a container to collect every bit of material possible.

Seeing Paracelsus’s reaction, like discovering a new toy, Lance couldn’t help but jest.

"Looks like our doctor has found her new project."

He hadn’t forgotten the task of this mission, and instructed quickly, planning to call more Devourers himself.

"Call me if anything happens. If there’s any situation, retreat immediately. I’ll be fine."

"Understood." Grendel nodded in agreement, understanding her duty was to protect the doctor.

It wasn’t particularly hard for Lance; had he not been helping Paracelsus with research, he would have completed the task sooner.

Familiar with the terrain here, he blew the horn, the unique melody echoing through the Beast Lair’s corridors, drawing one Devourer after another, and they fell one by one.

Lance didn’t intend to stop, continuing his forward march, like a Grim Reaper spreading death, reaping their souls.

He stopped only when the horn could no longer call forth more Devourers because he reached the end.

Seeing the twisted forms of that Formless Flesh again, Lance now realized how terrifying it was.

This place was over a hundred yards from where he first encountered it.

And it had spread so much in just a few days!

It might be due to the complete slaughter of the Pigmen, causing chaos in the Beast Lair’s ecosystem, and with the Formless Flesh’s suppression gone, it began to expand wildly.

Previously, he’d watched it fight the Flesh Devourer, but now it was finally his turn.

One of the mission objectives this time was to eliminate this problem.

Sacrifice!

Lance started with a major move, but unfortunately, it elicited no response. He was sure of one thing: it had consciousness.

His earlier actions instead agitated the dormant flesh, making it visibly writhe and twist, with the flesh above ceaselessly transforming.

Lance raised his hand, drew out a longsword, and slashed down. Under the sharpness of Wolf Fang, the flesh was as fragile as jelly, easily cutting exaggerated wounds, blood gushing forth.

The flesh convulsed, trying to hide the wound, but Lance was familiar with its combat logic. How could he easily let it succeed?

The second slash, the third slash...

The longsword in Lance’s hand cut shadows so fast they were hard to follow, but more terrifying was that each slice precisely sheared off chunks of flesh, while the Sacrifice devoured them, seemingly like the Void consuming them.

Except this efficiency...

Lance noticed the problem—its terrifying self-propagation and expansion speed. Over so many years, it had nearly filled Hamlet’s original sewers.

No wonder even the old patriarch was at a loss, only able to suppress but not destroy it.

Lance didn’t waste more words, sheathing the longsword and taking off his clothes instead.

Armor Integration!

With just a step, his body was engulfed in explosive Dark Flame. In the next second, he emerged fully armored.

He wasn’t intending to continue attacking but jumped onto the "carpet" of flesh, running deeper into the passage on the writhing flesh.

Lance did this knowing that fighting its flesh on the periphery was meaningless. As long as he grabbed the core, shattering its consciousness with a Sacrifice would solve the problem.

Otherwise, even if he slashed all the way through, not to mention anything else, the blood alone would serve as freshly squeezed juice for the old patriarch.

Would Lance let the old patriarch drink fine juice?

This unconventional attack caught the Formless Flesh off-guard, allowing him to run a distance.

But soon, the flesh reacted, and with a step, Lance’s leg sank deep in, powerful suction emanating from the contracting muscles, trying to drag him in.

"Hmph!"

Lance snorted coldly, black flames flaring up on his armor. As soon as they touched the flesh, it instinctively recoiled, and the untouched flesh turned to charcoal; if it could make a sound, it would likely be a horrendous howl.

Taking the opportunity, Lance withdrew his legs from the flesh and continued to run, this time leaving footprints trailing black flames like brands.

The flesh wasn’t lifeless clay; the recent burning by the black flames agitated it, speeding up its writhing.

As he advanced like this, the passage was covered in flesh, now elevating and pressing on him from all sides, somewhat like intestines trying to crush food.

But Lance was not food.

Facing the rising flesh in front, several hundred pounds pressing down, lacking any hesitation, he raised his arm, fingers clenched into a fist.

"Kou Ye!"

With a ferocious shout, the explosive Dark Flame surged toward his arm, concentrating so thickly it cloaked his fist like syrupy oil.

Meteor Burst Fist!

More precisely, the black flame burst like a flamethrower into a conical form, blasting forward like a stream of molten metal penetrating.

On contact with the flame, the flesh didn’t even scorch; it vaporized into ash-gray smoke, bones turning to charcoal that crumbled on touch.

A half-man-high gap appeared out of nowhere in the flesh-built wall, its edges sizzling with black fire and smoke yet to disperse.

Just one punch penetrated the flesh-bone wall, showcasing Lance’s terrifying and uncanny power.

But he dared not linger, swiftly leaping through the gap.

Just after he dashed out, the flesh wall slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, shaking the entire Beast Lair as if it might collapse.

Lance steadied himself atop the waterbed-like flesh carpet, shaken but relieved.

Trapped within would be like being swatted by a giant hand weighing hundreds of pounds—if not fatal, certainly not harmless.

Then he turned to see the flesh surging toward him like a tidal wave, giving no time for rest, forcing him to keep running...