Desert Island Survival: A Hundredfold Improvement After Having a Baby?

Hall looked up and glanced into the depths of the woods.

A dark shadow fell from above.

"boom!"

Yang Ningcong stepped in front of Hall, sending sand and broken wood flying everywhere.

Hall's expression changed, and he took two steps back, leaning against the tree trunk.

"You...you stay away..."

Yang Ningcong looked at him, his mouth open, revealing his jagged, sharp teeth.

"Murder...a life for a life..."

Hall's legs were trembling. "I...I didn't kill anyone from your Yang family..."

He raised his hands. "Especially that old man, would you believe me if I said he committed suicide?"

Yang Ningcong ignored his nonsense.

He raised his hand, claws aimed at Hall's head, and swung it down hard.

Hall rolled to the side, his claws grazing his scalp and leaving five deep scratches on the tree trunk.

"Hold!"

Hall got up and ran.

Yang Ningcong turned around and stared at his back.

Hall ran fast, but was still a bit clumsy. Yang Ningcong used his right leg to propel himself forward and caught up with Hall in a few steps.

Hall sensed the movement behind him and turned around to look.

Yang Ningcong was already in front of him.

"Get out of here!"

Hall raised his fist and slammed it towards Yang Ningcong's face.

Yang Ningcong didn't dodge, letting the fist hit his face.

But the scales were as hard as iron, and when Hall's fist slammed into them, it made a dull thud.

Yang Ningcong grabbed Hall by the neck and lifted him up.

Hall lifted his feet off the ground and grabbed Yang Ningcong's wrists with both hands, trying to pry his hands off.

But the hand remained completely still.

"Let...let go..."

Hall's face turned bright red, and his eyes bulged out.

Yang Ningcong looked at him, and Yang Xiongbing flashed through his mind.

Yang Ningcong used to find Yang Xiongbing annoying because he was always controlling him, not letting him do this or that.

Now, that old man is dead.

Yang Ningcong then realized that life without anyone to care for him was actually quite unpleasant.

He applied force with his hand.

"Click..."

Hall's neck was broken, his head was tilted to one side, his eyes were still wide open, his mouth was open, and his tongue was sticking out.

Yang Ningcong stood in front of Hall's corpse, his vertical pupils staring at the body with its head tilted to the side.

He thought of the orcs in his family, whose arms had been severed but whose wounds had healed within hours.

Even with a serious injury, a good night's sleep can always help.

No survivors should be left.

Yang Ningcong squatted down, grabbed Hall's head with his claws, and pressed it down hard.

"Click..."

The skull was shattered, the white and red parts mixed together, seeping into the soil.

He released his grip, then grabbed the corpse's arm again.

"Rip..."

His arm was torn off and left aside.

He continued, dismembering the body piece by piece. Legs, hands, torso, all separated.

After doing all that, he stood up and looked at the scattered pieces of the corpse on the ground.

Zhao Qiming has already run far away; he is no longer the Yang Ningcong he once was.

Now that he had avenged his great enemy, he should reunite with Lin Fan. With his current strength, he didn't believe Lin Fan wouldn't need help.

Only by finding the culprit on the island together with Lin Fan can he perhaps return to his original form and leave this place.

……

On the other side of the island, in an underground laboratory.

The doctor sat in front of the monitor screen, tapping his fingers on the table.

There were a dozen or so small dots on the screen. The dots lit up at first and then went out.

The doctor then exported a video, in one scene of which several corpses were lying on the beach.

The doctor zoomed in on the image.

The four orc corpses had only half-grown scales, their skin was ulcerated, and they had died a gruesome death.

The doctor turned off that camera and switched to another one.

In the woods, Yang Ningcong dragged his tail.

The doctor stared at him for a while, a hint of displeasure flashing in his eyes.

The third generation was too weak. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

The bombs can shatter them into pieces; there simply aren't enough.

He stood up and walked around the laboratory twice. There were several drawings on the wall, depicting human anatomy and covered with dense annotations.

The professor walked up to one of the drawings and stared at the data on it for a few seconds.

The fourth generation is indeed strong enough, with its defense, recovery, and attack power all meeting expectations.

However, the average person's body cannot withstand it; 99% of people will die after the injection.

He turned around and looked at the rows of test tubes on the lab bench.

The test tubes contained liquids of different colors: some were black, some were gray, and a few were dark red.

"We need the blood of superhumans as a thinner to improve the survival rate."

The doctor walked to the lab bench and picked up one of the tubes of dark red liquid.

The liquid shimmered eerily under the light.

"But superhumans..."

The doctor paced back and forth in the laboratory, his footsteps echoing in the empty room.

"Mass production is simply impossible unless..."

He stopped and looked at a green button on the control panel. The doctor walked over and pressed the button.

The ground began to shake.

A crack appeared in the laboratory floor, and the crack widened, revealing the metal tracks underneath.

The floor beneath the doctor's feet slowly sank.

He stood on the sunken platform, which had descended more than ten meters and stopped in a passageway.

The passageway is flanked by concrete walls, with a few dim lights mounted on them, barely enough to make out the path.

At the end of the passageway, there was a narrow railcar that could only seat one person.

The doctor walked over, got into the car, and pressed the start button.

The track car hummed as it glided forward along the track...