Chapter 700: Chapter 700: The Scent of Blood
The exact moment Ethan’s fingers hovered above her chest with the dark paste, the young disciple’s eyes snapped wide open. She violently threw herself backward on the stretcher, letting out a terrified, high-pitched scream that echoed across the entire interrogation room.
Ethan lowered his hand, letting out a mocking laugh.
The flagship’s medical staff behind the glass exhaled in relief, thinking the young doctor had simply executed a clever, high-pressure psychological bluff to force the girl to break. But in reality, what Ethan had stated was the truth—if she had remained still for one more second, that counter-catalyst would have dragged her straight into a living hell.
Seeing her subordinate shatter under the pressure, Branch Leader Koma’s face twisted with rage. "You worthless, cowardly little wretches!" she hissed, cursing them through gritted teeth.
Ethan smoothly stepped past the stretchers, his amethyst eyes locking onto the old matriarch with an icy glare. "I have officially had quite enough of your theatrical waste of time," Ethan said, his gravelly voice dropping into a sharp register. "Speak. Now."
"Or what?!" Koma barked back, her shackles rattling as she spat toward his boots. "Are you going to threaten me with that same paste? I already told you, I do not fear your little torture tricks!"
"I have no intention of wasting my breath threatening you," Ethan replied calmly, his voice entirely steady. "A hardened peak Golden Core expert like you is far too stubborn for simple pain. Besides, I am already certain that you are a traitor to this pavilion. In fact, I already know exactly why your entire garrison died down there. You don’t fear my execution because you are already a walking corpse. Your meridians are rotted."
He turned his back on her, his sharp gaze shifting down to the two trembling disciples. "You two. Speak. Tell me what you know, and you might actually leave this flagship alive."
"Master! We truly do not know the exact coordinate path to the entrance!" the first disciple sobbed, her knees slamming against the floorplates as she fell into a desperate salute. "Every single time Branch Leader Koma took us down to the ruins to mine the components, she forced us into a sealed runic carriage and blindfolded our senses!"
"How much time did the journey systematically take from the moment the carriage vacated this outpost?" Ethan asked.
"Approximately half a day of travel, Master," the second girl whimpered.
"I understand," Ethan murmured, nodding slowly. "A half-day radius from this central node. It appears locating this vault will be easier than I initially think."
He walked back to the slate table and smoothly picked up the glass vial holding the obsidian-black insect. "I did not want to execute this option," Ethan muttered, tapping the glass. "This adult male Gravedigger Beetle is an exceptionally rare, specimen. I highly detest wasting its value on a traitor, but you leave me no choice."
Without a single word of warning, Ethan drew a small scalpel from his spatial ring. With a flash of silver precision, he sliced a deep line straight across Koma’s shackled wrist.
Splat.
Thick, dark greenish-purple blood aggressively erupted from the wound, spilling onto the stone floor. It looked entirely stagnant and filled the interrogation room with a putrid, sickening stench of rotting copper and sulfur.
"That repulsive coloration is the direct physical effect of the tomb curse mutating inside your baseline," Ethan explained, unbothered by the foul odor as he took a small smear of the dark plant paste and aggressively rubbed it straight into her open, bleeding wound. "However, when this specific root compound interfaces with your corrupted blood, it creates a highly volatile chemical reaction. To a Gravedigger Beetle, this precise scent profile functions as a supreme, irresistible hyper-aphrodisiac."
Ethan smiled, his amethyst eyes flashing with a dark, terrifying amusement. "Right now, his neural receptors calculate that your bleeding wrist is a blood-red female beetle ready for reproduction. He will do anything to drag you back to his nest."
Koma looked down at her oozing arm, letting out a harsh, defensive sneer. "Do you honestly calculate I am going to be frightened by the tiny prick of an insect’s mating cycle? Don’t make me laugh!"
"I highly advise you not to worry about his mating functions, Elder Koma," Ethan whispered, his voice dripping with an coldness. "It is his mandibles you should be mortally terrified of."
TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!
Inside the glass vial, the Gravedigger Beetle suddenly went feral. Driven insane by the chemical scent, it began violently slamming its skull-faced carapace against the rubber stopper, its wings buzzing with a frantic, deafening hum as it desperately tried to break free.
Ethan smoothly popped the stopper open. The obsidian insect instantly shot out of the glass like a black bullet, landing squarely onto Koma’s bleeding wrist.
Before she could even execute a scream, the beetle aggressively drove its three-part mandibles into her flesh, tearing through her skin and burrowing straight inside her wrist. It began to viciously devour its way up her forearm from the inside out, creating a visible, writhing lump beneath her skin as it chewed toward her elbow.
Koma’s arrogant composure dissolved into nothingness. She threw her head back, letting out a raw, desperate scream of pure, unadulterated agony as she violently thrashed against her shackles.
"Stop it! Please, make it stop! I will talk! I will tell you everything!" Koma screamed, her knees violently buckling as she collapsed against the heavy slate table, her face drenched in a cold, panicked sweat. She thrashed wildly, but the writhing lump beneath her skin kept moving higher up her arm, chewing through her muscle tissue. "Mercy! Master Ethan, I beg of you, have mercy!"
Ethan merely stood there, his hands calmly clasped behind his back, his amethyst eyes watching her agonizing struggles with a perfectly flat, detached expression.
"I am afraid it is far too late for mercy, Elder Koma," Ethan replied. "The two disciples have already provided the baseline I required. In all structural reality, your presence is no longer necessary to our operation. Furthermore, there is no cure for what is about to happen to you."
The two young disciples covers their mouths, sobbing hysterically as they pressed themselves against the floor, while the flagship’s medical staff behind the glass looked on with pale, trembling faces.
Even the Vice Sect Leader felt a sharp, sudden wave of unease violently ripple through his chest. He took a half-step forward, his fingers twitching inside his long silver sleeves as his instinct urged him to intervene and stop the brutal execution of a high-ranking regional asset. Yet, looking at the young doctor’s terrifyingly calm, demonic posture, the old master’s heart deeply hesitated. He stood frozen in place, utterly torn between his authority and the sudden, suffocating fear of crossing the divine doctor.
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