Chapter 112: Cyriel-Number Three?

Chapter 112

In the bathtub, Mei was completely submerged in water, not even her head breaking the surface. The others could only see occasional bubbles escaping from her mouth underwater, which eased their worries but also piqued their curiosity.

How was she able to breathe underwater?

Yet, their curiosity did not turn into surprise. After all, Mei had already displayed so many extraordinary traits. Even Lin Shaojie and Qu Wenyuan had grown accustomed to her uniqueness, while the others no longer paid it much mind.

After being soaked for fifteen minutes, the mysterious figure began removing the bandages from Mei’s body. The water in the tub quickly turned a dark red as it mixed with her blood and the decaying flesh on her body, becoming murky and foul-smelling.

The stranger tossed the discarded bandages into the trash bin and then pulled out a large dark green towel from his space. Before anyone could get a clear look, he lifted Mei out of the tub. The dirty water left behind was immediately cleansed by a formation embedded in the bottom of the tub once the person stepped away.

No one paid attention to the magical self-cleaning bath; their eyes were fixed on Mei, who, after being soaked in the medicinal solution, had completely restored her rotting body to its original state.

They had seen this effect before. After Mei soaked in the specially formulated healing medicine, she could achieve similar results. However, her supply of the medicine had run out, so it was surprising that this person also possessed such medicine.

Considering the relationship between this person and Mei, it wasn’t all that strange that he had the medicine.

Among those present, only Ye Jingxuan looked at the figure with a thoughtful expression.

In the Reversal Squad, besides Mei, only he had a deep understanding of that particular healing medicine. That medicine, when applied to wounds, caused unbearable pain but had limitations. While it could heal wounds, it could not remove impurities or decay from the wound. If the wound was rotten or contaminated, the new skin would grow over and encapsulate the decay inside.

When Mei had used the medicine before, its diminishing efficacy was partly due to this limitation.

However, the medicine this person used on Mei had no such restriction. The decayed flesh fell off directly instead of being wrapped under new skin. Although Mei now looked like a skeleton covered with a thin layer of skin, she was much healthier than before.

Watching the mysterious man carefully place Mei on a clean bed, Ye Jingxuan hesitated before asking, “Are you Cyril?”

The other person paused but said nothing. After re-examining Mei’s condition and confirming that it was stable for the time being, he finally looked at Ye Jingxuan and said, “Looks like there’s still someone with a brain among you!”

Despite the words, the tone was dripping with sarcasm, making it impossible to take as a compliment.

Mo Chen was about to speak when the person lifted his hood. Upon seeing his face, Mo Chen was stunned, and even Ye Jingxuan showed surprise.

“What’s your relationship with Number Three?” Mo Chen, forgetting what he was about to say, asked cautiously, looking at Cyril.

Even Ye Jingxuan’s earlier joy at Mei’s recovery faded, and he carefully distanced Cyril from Mei.

The reason was simple: Cyril looked remarkably like Number Three—at least a fifty percent resemblance in both features and aura.

An Zi You and the others were confused, not understanding why the atmosphere had suddenly changed.

An Zi You knew the name Cyril, but he had never met Number Three and was uncertain how to proceed. Lin Shaojie and Qu Wenyuan didn’t know who Cyril or Number Three was, so they naturally sided with Mo Chen and Ye Jingxuan.

Cyril, noticing this, sneered disdainfully.

“I thought maybe one of you could rise above being mere lowly creatures. Turns out I overestimated you. Is there anything useful in those skulls besides muscle? Even if it’s just muscle, try to get it moving. Do you really think Mei wouldn’t figure out what you’re thinking? Or have you truly taken her for a naive fool, unable to tell good from bad?”

His words left the group speechless.

Because he was right.

They were confused by the resemblance between him and Number Three, but Mei knew Number Three personally. If she was closer to this man than they were, then he must be different from Number Three.

None of them realized their thoughts were being manipulated by Cyril—or rather, that he was successfully deceiving them with his words.

“Mei said you were far away, and it would be difficult to meet again. How did you come to know she was in danger?” An Zi You asked with obvious doubt.

“If this idiot hadn’t nearly killed himself, I wouldn’t have come here. As for how I knew, that’s none of your business!” Cyril replied disdainfully, clearly disgusted by this world.

He despised how this world had somehow mixed so many filthy viruses into what should have been clean death energy.

“So you can cure Mei’s illness, right?” An Zi You pressed.

“Of course. Do you think I came all this way just to see her for the last time?” Cyril retorted mockingly.

Alright, it was clear this guy was definitely not Number Three.

Though Mo Chen didn’t know much about Number Three, one thing was certain: Number Three was nowhere near as unbearable as this man.

Mo Chen scratched his head in frustration but said nothing.

Forget it—so long as he could heal Mei, he could tolerate how harsh this guy’s words were.

Ye Jingxuan only cared whether Cyril could cure Mei. Once assured that he wouldn’t harm her, he sat by the bed, gazing at Mei. Though she looked terrible now, he didn’t mind. His eyes remained as gentle as ever, frequently brushing her skin with his fingertips as if only by doing so could he confirm he wasn’t hallucinating—that her body truly would no longer decay.

After An Zi You finished asking his questions, he fell silent, sitting quietly in the corner of the vehicle, seriously studying the materials Mei had given to Ye Jingxuan.

As for Lin Shaojie and Qu Wenyuan, after witnessing Cyril’s formidable combat ability, they dared not utter a word. What a joke—several heavy-hitters from the squad were all silenced by him. How could they possibly stand up to him? They wisely stayed on the sidelines.

Some cultivated, some read, and some stared blankly—silence enveloped the vehicle.

Cyril paid no attention to their activities and went straight into a small compartment, locking himself inside to make new medicines without delay.

Three days passed without him emerging, not even for meals.

People knocked, but no matter how they tried, there was no response, as if no one were inside.

Finally, after three days, the door opened. Cyril appeared, looking somewhat haggard, though otherwise fine.

He held a freshly made potion and administered it to Mei before sitting down to rest.

“When will she wake up?” Mo Chen asked, staring at Mei’s unchanged condition since that day.

“If she wakes now, it will only increase her suffering with no benefit. Are you sure you want her awakened now?” Cyril glanced at him coldly and replied.

Mo Chen fell silent.

Compared to her waking and suffering, he’d rather she stay unconscious—at least then, she would endure less pain, and he wouldn’t have to watch her suffer.

That was right—just watch, without even a chance to comfort her.

Because she never gave them that chance.

Whether coughing blood or having flesh rot away, she always faced them with a calm expression, even smiling and saying, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

But how could internal bleeding be “fine”?

How could flesh falling off not hurt?

Watching alone was painful enough—especially since she had always been so afraid of pain.

He recalled how pitifully she had told him in the small valley that her arm hurt so much. He wished she had spoken up instead of silently bearing it alone, so much so that he almost forgot the agony she endured.

Cyril ignored Mo Chen’s self-reflection, quickly eating two pieces of bread and drinking some water before moving to the driver’s seat.

He asked Ye Jingxuan, “How far are we?”

“Almost there!”

Surprised, Cyril glanced at him and opened the map. The city was now close, at most an hour and a half away.

Compressing a journey that normally took seven or eight days into three required the vehicle to maintain top speed continuously, meaning it had to be manually driven the entire time.

Manual driving consumed mental energy, and this man’s mental strength had endured three days of intense use—quite impressive.

The energy vehicle finally arrived at the abandoned hospital Cyril had mentioned.

Though unsure why they came to such a place, they followed closely behind him inside.

After descending to the third level of the underground parking garage, Cyril activated a mechanism. The wall slid open automatically, revealing a hidden laboratory.

Suddenly, it all became clear—there was a secret lab hidden here as well! (To be continued.)