The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 77

The sight of Cistanche deserticola twisting its tender pink buds as it emerged from the skull crack left a deep and unforgettable impression on Terence.

Those nine-budded tendrils, with their four postures, possess a captivating and bizarre beauty... like flowers and leaves with buds and pistils, freely blooming with an unusual and vibrant vitality.

"The head maid of the funeral maids?" A hint of surprise flashed in Rosalie's eyes.

In her common sense, high-ranking vampires were generally equivalent to supervisor-level hunters. For a mere head maid to be able to reduce a vampire who might hold a title to this state in a one-on-one confrontation... it all seemed rather surreal.

"Perhaps you have heard of the name Yaheng Moira."

Seeing Rosalie's doubtful expression, Terence coughed lightly, offering a slight reminder.

"Funeral Minister..." Upon hearing the identical surname, Rosalie narrowed her eyes, already vaguely guessing the specific situation.

The chief hunter's name possesses a certain terrifying magic. No amount of elaborate words can match the sheer power of the simple name "Yaheng."

"As you guessed, Sister Haida is Yaheng's daughter. Based on my experience working with her several times, she is fully capable of defeating a high-ranking vampire head-on, even if the opponent possesses more than two vampire secrets."

Terence adjusted his glasses and added jokingly, "If you want to get to know her, I can introduce you."

"Uh! Well... it's not necessary for now."

Rosalie quickly waved her hand, politely declining his offer.

Even though vampires have become a kin of the Moonlit Rebirth, the hunters have never let their guard down. This is a caution that hunters have always upheld since ancient times.

This is why funeral maids are still equipped with silver bullets in their standard gear...

"Miss Rosalie, the secret letter sent by the Moon Familia mentioned that you can identify this unidentified corpse?"

Terence composed himself and glanced at the vampire corpse in the coffin.

“Yes, analyzing information from blood is a secret of the Noralia family.” As she spoke, Rosalie approached Byas’s corpse.

"That's why I'm here to see you today."

She extended her glossy, sharp index fingernail and inscribed obscure vampire prayers on the skin of Byers' chest.

A few drops of crimson blood gathered in the center of the prayer, and his flesh withered and shriveled in an instant.

When the last bit of life force remaining in his body had completely condensed into the blood bead, Rosalie parted her lips slightly and drank it down her throat.

"cough!"

3 Even though she had prepared herself mentally, her expression still became quite interesting in an instant.

The stench of rotting flesh, the pungent odor of aldehyde preservatives, and the strange taste of sewer residue... Rosalie had to choke to avoid vomiting.

"Are you OK……"

Even the experienced Terence couldn't help but feel a little worried upon seeing this scene.

"Phew, phew. I'm fine. Don't worry."

New Rosalie naturally realized her lapse in composure and quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, trying to calm her erratic breathing. However, she still couldn't help but dry heave.

She was not yet thirty years old, quite young for a vampire. Therefore, she could not completely overcome her human instincts.

"Don't push yourself, drink something normal to calm down..."

Terence squinted, took a bag of medical blood plasma from the storage cabinet next to him, cut it open, poured it into a white porcelain cup, and handed it to her.

"Thank you." Rosalie took the porcelain cup, drank the blood poured into it in one gulp, and then let out a long sigh of relief.

The taste of those few drops of blood was like holding a giant corpse teeming with maggots and gnawing on it raw; it almost instantly shattered her psychological defenses.

Fortunately, all of this was not in vain.

Through the remaining spirit and memories in those few drops of blood, she already knew the identity of the corpse.

"Byers Noralia".

"He is a third-generation descendant of a collateral branch of the Noralia family, holding the title of viscount. In terms of family relations, he is a distant relative of mine. He disappeared in Atilia a hundred years ago, and his fate is unknown. He is suspected of being captured."

"I see."

Terence stroked the silver ring on his index finger, his words carrying a hint of understanding.

"All the evidence points to the Sunforge Order; they can't escape responsibility no matter what. But the Red Cup is clearly more problematic..."

Whether Byers was a mercenary or a spy for the Sunforge was completely irrelevant.

The only important thing is that he was captured by some being lurking in the shadows of Norrington and had a mind-devouring plant, Cistanche deserticola, implanted in his mind.

Even the "servants in the cup" who descended through the first type of Red Cup ritual have perished, yet there is still a high priest who dares to show up?

No, perhaps it was a backup plan left over from the time of the Fuyue Festival. But it was abandoned for some reason... and was only discovered recently when things completely spiraled out of control.

"Mr. Terence, can the information I provided prove that the Moon Familia is unrelated to this matter?"

Seeing Terence lost in thought, Rosalie gently stroked her palm with a slight smile.

"That's enough. If it weren't for the involvement of the Crimson Cup, we wouldn't have doubted the signatories. We express our sincere gratitude for your help. May the moon of new buds forever adorn the night sky."

Terence bowed slightly to Rosalie, performing the traditional white cup salute used during the oath-taking ceremony in the Moonlit Bud.

-

【Prototype Inlaid Ridge II (Defective Product)】

[Quality: Ordinary]

[Effect: Through iteration, in addition to utilizing the Bloodlink technology, mechanical biology, and genetic programming present in the original product, this product also introduces a frame stabilizer compatible with alien psionic energy. This significantly improves the overall stability of the product, preventing distortion in users.]

[Note: "For this frame stabilizer to work, you must constantly believe that the device is stable and maintain a psionic power supply... otherwise it will stop working. If it stops working, this entire spine will be destroyed inside your body."]

"Evaluated as a pure toy."

Fran casually tossed the second-generation product into the storage box next to him. This time, however, he didn't disassemble it into parts, because toys have their value too…

Based on the specifics of this finished product, it's likely only Ork people who meet the usage standards. But if it were actually given to the Orks to play with, it might just create a new Ork Technician.

Then I'll become the behind-the-scenes investor in the happy green-skinned car's journey to space...

Fran tapped his forehead with the knuckle of his index finger, dispelling his somewhat unserious thoughts.

"We've accumulated enough experience and parameters; now we're ready to tackle the technical challenges... We'll complete the final version within ten generations!"

-

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Purge Order

"The basic theory has been confirmed and perfected."

"The technical framework has been completed."

"The experimental model is running well."

Fran licked his lips, suppressing the surging excitement, his amber eyes burning with passion.

Academic research and product iteration are ultimately a long and tedious process, and even if Fran were to handle it all, it would be difficult to accomplish in one fell swoop.

After almost completely foregoing food and sleep, and after half a month of tireless and arduous research and development... she finally ushered in the final stage of the project.

However, Fran decided to take a break before assembling the final product.

It's like stopping abruptly at the last second; a normal person would be suffocating in that situation. But clearly, she's not one of those "normal" people.

Stopping the research now, besides relieving tension and giving the mind a proper rest... also allows Fran some time to find inspiration before the work is completely finalized.

After all, her goal was to finish it before the next quarterly outpatient visit, and there were still almost two months until the end of December.

"Ah... staying in the operating room for fifteen days straight is really taking its toll."

Fran rubbed his slightly bluish eyes, then removed the two spare arms attached to his shoulder blades along the black stitches and put them back into the storage cabinet next to the operating room.

Most of her body was modularly designed and could be disassembled individually. This is why she was still alive when she was only left with her head during her last quarterly visit to Norrington.

Fran pushed open the metal latch of the operating room, took off his heavy hazmat suit that resembled a polar bear, and yawned while covering his mouth with his hand.

After a quick wash, I'll go to sleep. I haven't slept for almost two weeks; I've almost forgotten what a bed and blankets feel like…

Speaking of which, Sister Heda hasn't come to the Fog Street Clinic during this time.

Perhaps my "reminder" bothered her?

The number "three" is quite interesting; it should be easy to associate it with that deity.

Oh, wait a minute. It seems that the revised editions of "The Crimson Face" over the past century have all omitted the concepts of sacred numbers and sacred times... In other words, even if Haida had read this introductory book on skin, she might not know the exact number of the Crimson Cup.

In that case, it's understandable that she can't reach a conclusion in a short time.

As Fran walked through the corridor to return to his bedroom, he heard Sigrid's hurried footsteps halfway down the corridor.

"Dr. Fran, is the finished product complete?"

The maid approached Fran, her bright golden eyelashes fluttering slightly, and asked with a hint of hope in her eyes.

"It's in the final stages. Hmm... but before assembling, I'm going to go back and catch up on some sleep. Maybe I'll get some new inspiration?"

Fran Qiaoqian raised an eyebrow and, seemingly unconcerned about her manners, stretched her waist. The exquisitely tailored blazer beneath her white lab coat tightened slightly, subtly revealing her slender and graceful figure.

Like a feline dozing in the afternoon sun, it freely displays laziness and comfort.

“Yes. You really need to rest.” Sigrid pursed her lips, then took out a pale white bone scalpel from behind her.

The scalpel is engraved with tiny, obscure sun-casting inscriptions on both the blade and the handle, making it small and exquisite.

"Dr. Fran, this is my improved bone scalpel. Please accept it. If there are any flaws or design defects, I will recast it."

That being said, Sigrid was even more meticulous than Fran in her approach to casting, bordering on nitpicking. Naturally, works made by her were of impeccable quality.

"Hmm~ Thank you so much for your gift, Sigrid."

Fran took the scalpel from the bone surgeon, carefully examined the inscription of the sun-casting prayer on it, and gently stroked the mirror-like surface with his fingertips.

【Bone-made willow-leaf scalpel (creator: Sigrid)】

[Quality: Excellent]

[Effect: As a subspace crystal, the Spirit Bone possesses excellent spiritual affinity, thus enabling it to cut through spirits and dream entities. This instrument utilizes the forging techniques of the Sunsmiths, allowing its blade to generate localized ultra-high temperatures.]

[Note: "A gift from a clinic maid."]

-

"It's beautiful. Both the casting and the engraving are impeccable."

Fran placed the scalpel into the medicine box, then reached out and gently stroked Sigrid's head in encouragement. Her hair was a pure, clear gold, soft to the touch and carrying a gentle, warm glow like sunlight.

"I'm glad Dr. Fran is happy."

Seeing Fran put the scalpel into the medicine box, Sigrid lowered her head and slightly curled her lips into a smile.

Although Sigrid is nominally a maid at the Fog Street Clinic, in reality... Fran takes care of her more often, like a gentle elder. Therefore, she always wants to offer Fran some help in areas she is familiar with.

"Okay, goodnight, Sigrid. If my alarm doesn't wake me up tomorrow morning, I'll have to trouble you to wake me up."

After giving brief instructions for tomorrow, Fran closed the bedroom door.

After removing his oversized white doctor's coat and undershirt, Fran, now only in his underwear, ran his fingertips from his thigh to his ankle, then tossed a wad of unwashed black stockings into a storage bin.

After undressing and preparing for bed, she collapsed heavily onto her bed, burying herself in the soft comforter.

Fran was indeed quite tired, so much so that he even forgot about his habit of reading at night.

Although she can control physiological needs such as sleep at the genetic level, appropriately transforming into Snorlax for deep hibernation can indeed greatly improve her mental state.

-

The autumn night breeze stirred the thin clouds, and the streetlights on both sides of the street shone with a pale yellow glow. The streets of Sandrank were desolate and quiet, with few pedestrians.

The White Cup Order has lifted its warning against Byers, but the effects he caused have not yet dissipated.

Although anyone with common sense knows that the absurd tale of "man-eating crocodiles in the sewers" cannot be true, the previously reported missing persons cases cannot be faked... someone really has gone missing.

Under such circumstances, naturally no one would want to linger on the streets at night.

This also means that Will's bookstore is almost exclusively open during the day.

"No customers have come to read these past few nights, should I close up shop soon...?"

Old Will sat behind the counter in the bookstore, slowly wiping his glasses. The dim light illuminated the wrinkles on his face, making him appear somewhat old.

We're still a little short on my grandson's tuition, but there's still some time before the next school year. We can always save up enough... Hopefully, business will be better in the next few months.

Step, step, step.

As the old man was checking his ledgers and receipts, he heard the sound of quick, deep leather boots on the street.