Cultivation Chaos: Superheroes In The Realm Of Immorals

"Chit! These are special goods — we'll take them in ourselves," the rat-man informed the inspector in the conical hat.

The inspector paused, glancing at Spark and the rest. "Oh? Are they that special that you want your names recorded for bringing them in?"

The reptilian man slithered forward with a repulsive smirk. "You ssss-have no sss-idea."

The inspector nodded and wrote down their names alongside the goods. "Okay, done. You can go now."

The hybrid duo nodded joyously, hauling the unconscious bodies of their captives through the metallic gates.

They traveled down a creepy, isolated corridor, navigating each crossroad with familiar precision. Seconds passed before they finally entered a dark lab. The difference between this place and a modern laboratory was obvious — the lamps were made of glowing crystal-like materials, there were no advanced computers, and no hospital beds. In truth, the place resembled a dungeon far more than a lab.

"Chit! We should go inform Head Lu! I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have cultivators as test subjects, chit!" the rat-man suggested excitedly as they began chaining up the five captives.

The reptile shook his head, expression grim. "I don't sss-think that'sss a good ideassss. Headssss Lu hatessss dissssturbance."

Thinking for a moment, he added, "Letsss jusssst wait. I'm sssure he'll come out ssssoon."

The rat nodded fervently, a chill creeping up his spine. He had almost done something stupid — disturbing the Dean while he was in seclusion was akin to courting death… if one was lucky.

Then suddenly, the rat froze. Did that guy just move? he wondered, scrutinizing one of the captives. He thought he saw a finger twitch.

His teammate sensed his stare. "Issss sssomething wrong?"

The rat-man shook his head. His mind was playing tricks on him — it had to be. After all, they'd drugged everyone with Purple Dreams, a sedative so potent it could knock out a core formation immortal, let alone a mortal martial artist.

He nodded to himself, affirming the thought. "No, it's nothi—" He stopped mid-sentence, his words choking in his throat.

His eyes widened in horror as he pointed behind his teammate.

Spark had awakened. Though still somewhat groggy, he hadn't woken up on the "good" side. His eyes glowed with a sinister, sanguine hue, his figure radiated a ferocious aura, and his face was the very depiction of coldness.

By now, even the reptile — though he had yet to turn — understood what was happening. Sadly, just as he was about to move away to create space, Spark's palm flew in an arc. His input pumped everything into raw strength with reckless abandon, and the slap connected with the back of the poor hybrid.

Everything happened so fast, but to the rat-man, it was as if time slowed. Spark's palm was small compared to his teammate's build, but instinct screamed the truth — there's no way he's surviving that.

The palm landed. A ripple undulated across the reptile's skin as muscles, bones, flesh, and every atom of his being ruptured on contact. Then momentum kicked in.

Splat!

Like a mosquito slapped into a bloody smear, the hybrid was reduced to paste on the wall — bones, flesh, and blood ground into a perfect mesh.

The rat-man stood frozen in horror, every hair on his fur standing on end. A warm current flooded his pants, but he didn't care — the monster was now gazing at him.

Fear took over. His trembling hands scrambled for his blowgun.

Crack!

The chain on one of Spark's arms shattered. The other three were stretching, taut and ready to snap.

"Chiiiiiiit!" the rat squealed in terror. His prey instincts screamed: act now or die.

His fingers finally found the bamboo blowgun. He yanked it out, shoving it into his mouth so fast he nearly rammed his own throat. He exhaled in rapid bursts, firing again and again.

Hair-thin needles peppered Spark's body until he resembled a porcupine — and still the rat didn't stop. He kept firing hysterically until he was out of rounds.

Plop!

Spark's body fell, drifting back into unconsciousness. Right now, his system was so overdosed that even keeping a heartbeat was laborious. His mind had completely shut down — even his subconscious was gone.

The rat-man finally stopped, heaving heavily, his fur soaked with sweat. He had just stared death in the face. His eyes flicked to his friend's remains, a shiver running down his spine. That could have been him.

He sighed in relief — at least he was safe now… right?

But his gut told him otherwise. Glancing at Spark's comatose figure, the feeling persisted: the drugs still aren't enough.

Honestly, with how much Purple Dreams was in Spark's system, surviving would be a miracle. But wasn't that the same thought he'd had earlier?

His snout twitched nervously as he scampered out the door. Outside, he found a guard approaching, followed by a Seeker scholar pushing a cart stacked with blood bags.

"Eh? Tian Shu, how are things going? How's old Sh`e doing? Hehe, pardon me — I came to extract some blood from the captives a little earlier this time." The scholar's eyes lit up at the sight of the rat-man, oblivious to his distraught state.

The rat-man didn't care about anything now, as long as he was far from that room. His face twisted into a scowl.

"Sh`e is dead!" he squeaked hysterically.

"I saw it with my own eyes — a captive slapped him to death!" he wailed, scampering away, unwilling to spend another second near the room. The shadow cast by Spark had been burned into his bones.

The scholar and guard stared at the retreating rat-man in confusion. Then they glanced at each other and warily approached the door, pressing their ears to the metal surface, listening for movement.

Nothing. No footsteps. No grunts. Nothing.

Frowning, the scholar said to the armoured guard, "You go check it out first."

Son of a bitch! You want to send me into a place where a hybrid died? You might as well tell me to kill myself now, the guard cursed inwardly. But he dared not voice it and obeyed.

He opened the door slowly, wary of anything lunging at him. To his relief, all the captives were still comatose, and there was no sign of movement.

"Get out of the way," the scholar ordered, stepping inside. His eyes were instantly drawn to Spark's partially unchained figure — and the blood paste on the wall.

This must be the interesting subject, he thought, inspecting Spark from a distance. Then an idea struck.

"You — go get the blood cart. We'll take his sample to Head Lu. Who knows? Things might get… interesting." An eerie grin spread across his lips.