The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

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The air in the cell was so heavy it seemed you could wring water out of it; the stench of rusty blood and decaying death mingled with the foul odor of some animal, assaulting Evelyn's nostrils. Her face was deathly pale, exhausted from countless sleepless nights of surgery, now overwhelmed by a deeper despair. Her eyes were vacant as she stared at the living experimental subject, bound by ropes and struggling in agony. The twisted body was covered in festering wounds and grotesque protrusions, emitting a dying groan. Her hands trembled slightly. The scalpel, which had once precisely snatched lives from the jaws of death countless times, now felt incredibly heavy in her fingers, as if the sins of the entire world had been frozen in place. The healer's oath and Arthur's life now formed an unbalanced scale, weighing heavily on her heart. With each lift of the tool, each cut into the deformed flesh of the living body, she could hear the agonizing cries of her conscience deep within, as if slowly torturing her already fragile soul.

She forced herself to examine the lesions on the live experimental subject, not just for Percy, but also for Arthur, for that almost only hope of survival. Her hands trembled as she carefully touched the twisted, burning skin of the subject, a strange stickiness and roughness emanating from her fingertips. Beneath the skin was not healthy tissue, but a bizarre structure resembling a mixture of plant roots and flesh. She could feel fibrous tissue writhing beneath the skin, growing slowly as if alive, rooted in blood vessels and nerves, drawing life force from the host. This discovery sent a chill down her spine, her reason constantly pushing her to the limit. As a healer, she had never seen such a mutation beyond the bounds of biological common sense. She even suspected that this could no longer be called a "disease," but rather an implanted "alien life," a parasitic monster forcibly grafted onto a human body. With each deep breath, the mixture of blood and the strange, sweet smell in the air made her feel nauseous. She clenched her teeth tightly, trying not to make a sound, and could only silently endure this indescribable physical and psychological impact.

In the deeper darkness beside him, Lin Zheng forced himself to stay awake. The depletion of his mental energy gave him a splitting headache, and every nerve resisted further perception. The dying struggle of the live experimental subject, every muscle twitch, seemed to resonate deep within Lin Zheng's soul. He used all his strength to try "residual dream reading," delving his mental energy into the painful memories of the live experimental subject. It was a mixture of extreme fear and despair. The subject's experiences before death, the pain of being forcibly modified, and the bloody fragments of how Percy used some ancient and twisted runic power to forcibly transform him into an "experimental subject" flooded into Lin Zheng's mind like a tidal wave. He saw the moment the subject was captured before death, dragged into the dark basement, heard those cold and ruthless conversations, and felt the humiliation of being deprived of freedom and treated as an object. Even more terrifying, he witnessed the runes being etched into flesh and blood. Each carving was accompanied by the agonizing screams of a living being. The runes were like blood-sucking vines, impossible to remove once etched in. They slowly seeped into bones and internal organs, ultimately turning a whole person into a disfigured living puppet. These fragmented memories danced in Lin Zheng's mind, each flash scraping against his spiritual core like a knife, giving him a deeper understanding of Percy's cruelty and the darkness of this fortress.

These fragments of memory, interspersed with distorted runic information and an inhuman "sacrifice logic," constantly eroded Lin Zheng's sanity. His head throbbed with pain, as if it were about to explode, but he relied on his powerful willpower to perform a "mental recalibration." Each "reading" was accompanied by immense pain, each "formatting" was an ordeal with himself, and he struggled on the edge of madness to "format" and "sort" this information. He deconstructed these chaotic fragments as if processing the most complex codes. The runes were no longer simple markings, no longer ancient characters, but rather closer to a sophisticated bio-circuit diagram, a model of an "energy conduit" that converts life energy into specific outputs. He could even sense the flow of energy within the runes; they were not static, but active, resonating at a strange frequency, guiding the life energy within the living body to flow according to the trajectory set by Percy. This insight filled Lin Zheng with a profound fear, for it revealed a dark application of the essence of life far beyond his comprehension.

He noticed that these runes were remarkably similar to those he had seen on the fortress walls, but here they were etched deeper and more thoroughly, as if directly branded onto the souls of living beings. They were not simple patterns, but a complex "energy conduit," a machine language used to "refine" life, capable of transforming living beings into specific "resources." Lin Zheng felt a chill rise from his spine. He understood that this was an ancient technique for converting flesh and blood into pure energy, the most basic physical means of sacrificial rituals. This meant that the captured civilians, the "experimental materials" brought to life, were not patients to be studied by Percy, but fuel, batteries, consumables to maintain the operation of some terrifying entity. Percy wasn't looking for a treatment; he was looking for a more efficient and purer way of "sacrifice." This realization nearly drove him to a mental breakdown. He saw a truth far more terrifying than he had imagined—this fortress, this temple of flesh and blood, was itself a gigantic sacrificial machine.

He noticed that these runes were remarkably similar to those he had seen on the fortress walls, but here they were etched deeper and more thoroughly, as if directly branded onto the souls of living beings. They were not simple patterns, but a complex "energy conduit," a machine language used to "refine" life, capable of transforming living beings into specific "resources." Lin Zheng felt a chill rise from his spine. He understood that this was an ancient technique for converting flesh and blood into pure energy, the most basic physical means of sacrificial rituals. This meant that the captured civilians, the "experimental materials" brought to life, were not patients to be studied by Percy, but fuel, batteries, consumables to maintain the operation of some terrifying entity. Percy wasn't looking for a treatment; he was looking for a more efficient and purer way of "sacrifice." This realization nearly drove him to a mental breakdown. He saw a truth far more terrifying than he had imagined—this fortress, this temple of flesh and blood, was itself a gigantic sacrificial machine.

Just as he was about to be swallowed by this massive stream of negative information, Lin Zheng suddenly noticed something unusual—a tiny, almost negligible mark, unlike anything in the Parsis style. It resembled a fine scratch, etched into a hidden corner of the live experimental material, completely out of place with the surrounding distorted runes. The mark was an irregular rhombus, with peculiar indentations along its edges, like a worn-out ancient badge. It was faint, yet carried a familiar vibrational frequency, not the cold, mechanical fluctuations of the Parsis runes, but a more dynamic, cautionary energy mark. This immediately reminded Lin Zheng of Samantha Jones. It was a special code she had left for each other in some shady deal, detectable only to those who knew her well.

He realized this might be a signal left by Samantha Jones, a faint but powerful clue that could illuminate the darkness in their desperate situation. It gave him an instant glimmer of hope, like grasping a straw in drowning water. He couldn't let this only hope slip away; it was like a thin spider's thread, connecting him to the outside world, to the unknown, and to the possibility of escaping this blood-soaked prison. Lin Zheng's heart pounded, his blood rushed, and an unprecedented desire to survive surged within him. He had to seize it, he had to decipher this signal; it was their only chance of survival in this land of despair.

Evelyn was finally forced to make a difficult diagnosis. She carefully sheathed her scalpel, her face deathly pale, but her tone remained as calm and professional as possible. She told Brutus that Percy's condition was not a simple medical problem, but a complex "erosion" involving deep physical and mental changes—an erosion that transcended the realm of ordinary viruses or bacteria, more like the backlash of some "inhuman force." She emphasized that it would require more time and more "pure" live samples to arrive at a preliminary treatment plan, the word "pure" implying Percy's requirement for his choice of live samples. Her vocabulary avoided any emotion, focusing only on the coldest facts and medical terminology, striving to appear completely immersed in the medical predicament, rather than brimming with fear. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and the veins on the back of her hands bulged, but her expression remained impeccable, revealing not a single flaw.

Upon hearing this, Brutus, his tall frame blocking the narrow cell door, his brow furrowed deeply, seemed impatient but also intimidated by the "technical jargon." His rugged face was filled with dissatisfaction and confusion, and he finally let out a heavy, hoarse snort, his voice like the grinding of earth. He turned and left, indicating he would relay Evelyn and Lin Zheng's diagnoses to Percy and await his summons. The cell door slammed shut again with a dull thud, the latch slamming down, as if once again severing their hope. But this time, the footsteps outside were heavier, carrying an impatient, murderous intent, like a harbinger of death, urging them to hurry. Evelyn and Lin Zheng exchanged a glance, both seeing the same wariness and pressure in each other's eyes.

Soon after, Evelyn and Lin Zheng were brought back to the reception hall filled with art pieces of flesh and blood. This time, however, the entire hall was permeated with an even stronger aura of bloodshed and mental distortion. It was as if invisible hands were tearing at the air; every inch of space was filled with tension and oppression, making even breathing difficult. The art pieces of flesh and blood, pieced together from human and animal limbs, appeared even more twisted and grotesque under the dim kerosene lamplight. They were frozen in eerie postures, as if silently wailing; every piece of rotting flesh, every broken bone, was a silent accusation, accusing Percy of his morbid aesthetics and brutality. On the ground, bloodstains flowed like dried-up rivers through the cracks in the rough stone slabs, reflecting a faint light. A near-morbid excitement enveloped the hall, like the eve of some kind of festival about to be ignited.

Meanwhile, as Evelyn spoke, Lin Zheng activated "Dream Anatomy," fully opening his mental perception to connect with the morbid energy emanating from Percy. He felt as if he had fallen into a labyrinth of flesh and runes, a vast and chaotic ocean of consciousness. In that labyrinth, he saw Percy's twisted past—a young man who had once pursued power inadvertently awakened a dormant evil within ancient ruins, witnessing how those ancient runes first imprinted flesh and the desire for sacrifice deep into his soul. He also saw a strange symbiotic relationship between him and an ancient being from the underworld, not a simple matter of faith and worship, but a contract of mutual energy sources. Percy nourished some imprisoned being with his sacrificial flesh, and that being reciprocated with twisted power. That relationship was a deeper entanglement, a fate of coexistence and mutual destruction; the lesions within him were the outward manifestation of this symbiotic relationship.

Percy's strange illness was not merely a disease, but rather a manifestation of his own power and the "sacrifice logic" of the subterranean existence deeply ingrained within him. His body became a living energy converter, an altar forged from flesh and blood, constantly devouring and transforming the flesh and blood of living beings, providing nourishment for that unseen "being." In this abyss of madness, Lin Zheng clearly perceived that what surged within Percy was not simply pain, but an almost obsessive craving and hunger for "pure flesh and blood." This hunger was not human; it was like an ancient instinct, driving Percy with unwavering intensity, compelling him to continuously kill and sacrifice. Percy was no longer simply a patient; he had become a vessel, a puppet serving a grander, more evil purpose.

Just then, a sound came from a corner of the hall. Samantha Jones, the information broker Lin Zheng had met before, had appeared there silently, like a ghost. She moved nimbly and calmly past Brutus, who was guarding the area, and seemingly casually, suddenly "accidentally" knocked over a barrel full of discarded flesh and blood scraps, creating a brief moment of chaos. The foul-smelling scraps and blood splattered all over the floor, making a nauseating, sticky sound, spreading like mud. The intense stench of decay instantly assaulted everyone's senses in the hall, making the already stale air even more unbearable. This sudden accident effectively distracted everyone.

Brutus growled angrily, his voice deep and savage, filled with extreme displeasure at the sudden turn of events. He slammed his massive axe, stained with blood and filth, onto the ground with a dull thud. He turned abruptly, cursing as he walked toward the stinking corner, intending to deal with the mess Samantha had made. His attention was completely absorbed by the bucket of disgusting scum, and for a moment he forgot his close surveillance of Lin Zheng and Evelyn.

In the brief seconds that Brutus was distracted by the chaos, Samantha Jones's eyes precisely caught Lin Zheng, her gaze as sharp as a hawk's. Then, she swiftly tossed a small pebble wrapped in dried leaves at him, the pebble tracing an inconspicuous arc through the air. The pebble was engraved with simple geometric patterns—secret communication symbols commonly used in their underground transactions, a code unknown to outsiders, a secret decipherable by only a select few. The pebble landed precisely at Lin Zheng's feet, making a soft, almost inaudible sound, yet enough to stir up a storm in Lin Zheng's already taut nerves.

During the mental shock and physical contact, Lin Zheng received this "warning" from Samantha Jones almost simultaneously. The faint yet unique energy fluctuations on the stone were an extension of the mark she had previously left on the living experimental materials, clear and firm, like a silent declaration, directly transmitted through his mental energy vibrations. He abruptly opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing deep in his pupils. He forced himself to suppress his inner elation, avoiding revealing anything unusual. He saw Percy's expectant yet twisted gaze, now fixed on him and Evelyn, waiting for them to offer hope for "treatment."

Percy finally withdrew his scrutinizing gaze with satisfaction, his red mineral prosthetic eye gleaming eerily. His hoarse voice echoed in the hall, tinged with a strange elation, like a child who had received a new toy: "Very good, my doctors, I look forward to your 'treatment plan.' Remember, time is running out, and I don't have much patience." His words, though seemingly offering them a chance, felt more like a death knell. This meant that the most immediate threat of death was temporarily averted, granting them a precious respite, but it also meant that they had to find the "treatment" Percy wanted within a limited time and use this opportunity to find a possible escape.

Without batting an eye, Lin Zheng subtly flicked his toe, kicking the pebble to the sole of his shoe and then quietly hooking it into his sleeve. The entire process was fluid and effortless, as if he were merely adjusting his posture unconsciously after standing for so long. He felt a cool, hard touch on his fingertips, knowing this was a precious opportunity, a glimmer of hope veiled by despair. This small pebble, at this moment, felt like an immense burden in his hand.

The simple geometric shapes carved on the stone, in his eyes, now resembled ancient inscriptions, breathing in a unique way, as if waiting for him to decipher their deeper secrets. He gently touched them with his mental energy, sensing an ancient and mysterious power flowing within the runes—a highly directional coordinate, or rather, an index hidden within a vast flow of information. He understood that this secret might be the only key to their escape from this hall of flesh and blood. This not only meant more unknowns and risks, but also that a bold and dangerous plan was quietly taking shape. He knew this opportunity was fleeting, and he had to seize it.

After dealing with the chaos, Samantha Jones casually returned to her seat, giving Lin Zheng a cold, meaningful glance. Her gaze was devoid of warmth, yet conveyed a complex message: a sense of triumph at successfully transmitting the signal, a test of Lin Zheng's ability to receive it, and a subtle threat—like the prelude to some potential deal. It was a warning, a transaction, and a tacit understanding only they grasped, foreshadowing their fates becoming intertwined in an unpredictable way.

Lin Zheng clearly realized that their predicament was far from over, and the threat of Percy's death still loomed large. But an unprecedented and unknown opportunity for cooperation had quietly arrived amidst the bloodshed and despair. This was not only a path to escape, but also a fuse leading to a greater secret, waiting for him to uncover its mystery. And at this moment, the small pebble in his hand was the key to unlocking it all.

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