Apocalypse Gachapon

Chapter 2344: Experiment above

"You want those captives? What for?" White Robe asked, puzzled.

To quickly eliminate the Eight Heads' influence on Dark Strip City, the operation against those eight races had been extremely bloody.

Neither Ye Zhongming nor White Robe had participated, but they could imagine the process.

The leadership and warriors had all been killed. The rest were ordinary civilians or very low-level fighters.

Though most of the Eight Heads' people were dead, many captives remained. Each race had taken a share—for labor, mining, or farming.

"They're useful. Do you have any on hand?" Ye Zhongming could have asked the small races, but his purpose for these lives wasn't exactly noble, and he didn't want to damage his image just yet.

"I don't have any personally—it's all arranged by the clan. But I can ask. Just tell me how many you need."

White Robe's status was extraordinary now. Of the Star-Eye Clan's four great experts (excluding Luoshe), he was one—the youngest and most promising. He had been the hope of the clan before, still was, and would continue to be.

His words carried weight in the clan.

And White Robe differed from Ye Zhongming in one way: he held greater prestige in the Star-Eye Clan's military. The Silver Battalion followed him loyally. If White Robe were ever treated unfairly, they would genuinely dare to break away and oppose the clan.

Ye Zhongming thought for a moment. Asking for too many would draw the Star-Eye Clan's attention. "A hundred to start," he said.

White Robe nodded, then hesitated.

"I've set aside your things—ten thousand Ke Steel-grade, twenty Red Condensation-grade, and one Raini-grade suited for you: a pair of long daggers."

White Robe immediately perked up.

"But the price is market rate." Ye Zhongming's next words cut his joy short.

Still, White Robe recovered quickly. "That's fair. These can't all go to the Silver Camp—leave some for Old Jin. The rest has to be handed over, so market price makes sense."

"We can't do something shameless and then shamelessly take advantage of people on top of it."

Remembering the clan's changed attitude toward Ye Zhongming, White Robe still burned with anger.

"By the way, since we wiped out the Eight Heads, some races in the Cosmic Races Council are using it against us. Those dwarves are leading the charge. I heard it's about to go to a vote—the result probably isn't out yet, or Jie Su would have told us."

Ye Zhongming frowned at this.

This matter could be big or small.

Genocide happened from time to time, but mostly to small races—and even when caused by exploitation and oppression from other races, it was at least superficially natural extinction, so no one intervened.

But the Star-Eye Clan and the small-race alliance were different. They had directly slaughtered eight mid-level races in a bloody campaign—tantamount to initiating war. In the best case, others would listen to their explanation, believe it was a private vendetta, and impose a token punishment. In the worst case, they'd be held to account.

The Star-Eye Clan and the small-race alliance had no goodwill with the Huo'er Star people—who wished them dead. Things wouldn't be easily resolved.

"Don't dwell on it. We're not qualified to participate in high-level games like that." White Robe patted Ye Zhongming's shoulder. "How long until you reach great expert?"

This concerned him, Jie Su, and Yisewei. When they left the planet hunting ground, Ye Zhongming had been at seventy or eighty thousand Furelai. At his previous pace, he should reach the threshold within a cosmic year or two.

That was already very fast—only geniuses, no, supreme geniuses, could advance ten thousand Furelai in a cosmic year.

Reaching great expert in ten years was a benchmark for supreme geniuses.

"Not sure. We'll see." Ye Zhongming answered vaguely.

"After you go back, talk to the clan—see if the craftsmen who followed me before can be transferred over. If they agree, I'll provide the clan one Red Condensation-grade item free every fifty cosmic days. We can sign a contract—they work for me at most five hundred cosmic days, then return."

Ye Zhongming was under immense pressure to craft equipment. Even his astonishing speed couldn't keep up with his plans, so he needed help—even if just processing materials or assisting, it would boost efficiency.

White Robe was uncertain. "Will they agree?"

The clan was clearly distancing itself from Ye Zhongming; this might not be easily approved.

"Don't worry. Though neither of us understands what's happening in the clan, one thing is clear—their actions show they won't tear ties completely. The craftsman matter—even if relations were worse than now, they'd agree."

"What can the clan's craftsmen do now? At best Ke Steel-grade, with an appalling failure rate. Only Jikesu can make Red Condensation-grade, and I haven't asked for him. This is a chance to earn equipment and learn my crafting techniques—why would the clan refuse?"

White Robe nodded, chatted a bit more, and left.

A hundred of the Eight Heads' people were sent to Cloud Peak Manor.

Ye Zhongming had Xiao Min arrange them in a basement room, with Qizhen and several Red Female Guard members overseeing the place.

"Order Leader, what am I supposed to do?" Qizhen was confused—why had Ye Zhongming suddenly put her in charge of a new project?

Ye Zhongming looked at the woman who now held the most authority under He in the Changxu Water Race. "He said you're not only outstanding in racial skills but also accomplished in potions, toxins, and even alchemy. So you're the most suitable for this project."

Seeing Qizhen still confused, Ye Zhongming didn't use a terminal—he handed her a handwritten document.

"Take this and read it. It's about an immature potion. Your task is to understand it as quickly as possible, then improve it so it can be effective."

Hearing this, Qizhen grew interested. She asked casually, "What kind of potion?"

"One that increases Furelai." Ye Zhongming answered casually.

Qizhen looked up, stunned.

She was shocked—because such a thing had never been heard of being artificially manufactured among the cosmic races. Anything that could raise Furelai was almost always a natural treasure. Perhaps Changxu Water Race masters, certain apothecaries, or alchemy masters could occasionally refine a pill or two with limited effect...

"This hundred people are the clinical trial subjects. How to use them is up to you. If you need more, tell me—I'll get you more."