Dragon Clan: My Dad is Ange

Chapter 197 Research and Development of New Materials

When speaking of this, Yamada Shujin revealed a look of contempt, which was the contempt of a person of higher bloodline for a person of lower bloodline.

"But actually, within the D-grade category, the concentration of bloodlines varies greatly. Those second only to C-grade can be D-grade, and even those with only a trace of dragon blood can be called D-grade."

"And the vast majority of those with rare D-level bloodlines engage in mercenary work. This also stems from the Dragon Blood's bellicosity."

"Although their physical fitness is relatively low among mixed-bloods, compared to ordinary people, they have a dimensionality reduction advantage, and all indicators have reached the level of top athletes."

"More importantly, barring any unforeseen circumstances, those who possess dragon blood will surely awaken a Word Spirit. Regardless of their strength, it is, after all, a surreal ability. On the battlefield, an extra bullet could mean the difference between life and death. The help this surreal ability can bring is immense."

"So, those mixed-blood mercenaries are the envy of all mercenaries. They possess excellent bodies, sharper intuition, and supernatural powers."

"Mercenaries are a group that values ​​violence. For them, killing is even a form of pleasure. If they can increase their strength, that would be an immense joy for them."

After Yamada Shujin finished his explanation, he looked at Ye Fan with an expression of seeking credit.

Ye Fan nodded and praised: "It's a very good idea. It seems that we don't have to worry about the follow-up personnel in the Heavenly Court. Then I'll leave this matter to you. At least bring me 10 volunteers first."

Yamada Shujin quickly expressed his understanding: "I will definitely bring you the experimenter with the strongest physical fitness."

"Very good, I will have Norma arrange a fake identity for you. With your current physical condition, you should not have to worry about any accidents when entering and leaving the battlefield."

Ye Fan turned around and prepared to start his own experiment, but then he thought about how rare it was to have such a capable subordinate, so he started to care about Yamada Shujin for the first time in a long time.

"Of course it's okay, Master!"

Tian Xiuren didn't expect that Ye Fan would actually care about him. He quickly straightened his chest and patted the mechanical prosthesis on his body.

All the prosthetic parts in his body were made for him by Ye Fan. Not only were they extremely strong, but Ye Fan also incorporated many of his own ideas into them.

For example, an alchemical matrix with certain time properties is added to the spine, which can allow Yamada Shujin to gain an increase in speed after activation.

Although it is not as good as time zero, it is still easy to achieve three times the speed.

Not to mention the other parts, the alchemical matrices with various functions such as strength, defense, and repair are all available.

Yamada Shujin's bloodline had already been refined by Ye Fan and had reached Grade A. Coupled with these powerful alchemical prostheses, his combat effectiveness far exceeded that of ordinary Grade A hybrids.

He just gently moved the prosthesis, and the metal patterns on it instantly disappeared, replaced by an appearance and touch that was extremely similar to the human body.

This is also the result of Ye Fan's careful design of the prosthesis, which allows it to feel and look the same as a real person, making it just right for carrying out this mission.

After changing his clothes, Yamada Shujin turned and left.

Norma will arrange a special plane for him to help him go to various battlefields to collect outstanding "volunteers".

At this moment, a layer of crystal-like luster appeared in Ye Fan's eyes, and he opened his mirror pupils.

With the powerful analytical ability brought by the mirror pupil, he began to carefully analyze the silver heart and bronze heart improved by Yamada Shujin.

"So that's how it is. They use different special metals to suppress dragon blood and improve the body's tolerance. Setting a lower-grade heart is to gradually improve the body's acceptance. Otherwise, directly converting a person into a B-grade hybrid would have a very high probability of death."

"But it's still not enough. The purity of mithril is still too low. What I need is a method to create an S-rank hybrid. It seems that I need to research a metal with a stronger restraining force on dragon blood than mithril."

While thinking, Ye Fan took out various rare metals from the material box next to him and began to process them using various means.

The alchemical matrix of element replacement slowly unfolded under his feet. Although it was still incomplete, it could at least barely outline its outline.

Ye Fan took the opportunity of studying new metals to master the powerful ability of element replacement in the Alchemy Kingdom.

After all, creating new metals is essentially refining and replacing elements in existing metals, and element replacement is undoubtedly the most applicable skill in the Alchemy Kingdom.

Just as Ye Fan was concentrating on laboratory research, outside the laboratory door, a group of equipment department managers were huddled together, listening attentively to the movements inside.

"That's right, that sound, Mr. Ye is definitely carving the alchemical matrix. Oh, this beautiful and silky sound! Damn, it makes me boki~~"

The Minister of Equipment twisted his German hips and listened intently to the sound of Ye Fan outlining the metal inside.

To his ears, this sound was even louder than Beethoven's symphony, it was simply the sacred chant of alchemy.

"Damn it, stop sticking to the door, you bastard. Let me hear it too. This is the forging process of the owner of the Alchemy Kingdom."

As the deputy minister spoke, he kicked the minister's butt hard, trying to push him away.

On the other side, the Minister of Materials had already pressed his ear tightly against the wall, wearing a loudspeaker he developed himself, and was fascinated by listening to the subtle sounds of Ye Fan's operations.

As he listened, he muttered to himself:

"This is true alchemy. It's not simply combining metals into weapons, nor is it adding new energy sources. Instead, it's using alchemical matrices to give basic substances magical properties!"

At this point, he growled uncontrollably:

"I want to learn alchemy, too. I must learn alchemy!"

"Damn it, if you want to learn alchemy, go look in the database Mr. Ye gave you. Stop bothering me with your voice! With your bloodline, do you really think you can learn alchemy?"

The director kicked the director of the materials department away.

Indeed, even in the Equipment Department, not everyone knows alchemy, it can only be said that everyone has a wealth of alchemy knowledge.

The prerequisite for learning alchemy is to have a sufficiently strong fifth element - spirit as a foundation.

Without a strong enough bloodline, it is impossible to possess enough fifth spiritual elements. This alone has already excluded a large number of people.

After meeting the basic requirements, one must also test one's talent for alchemy.

The difficulty is so great that one can only choose one in a million. This is why alchemists are so rare in the world. It's not that people don't want to learn, but that they simply can't learn.

However, Ye Fan held on to the idea that he might be able to cultivate a genius, so he compiled his understanding of basic alchemy into a book and placed it in the equipment department's database.

He thought that perhaps a true genius would emerge from this group of people who were crazy about alchemy.

After all, people often say that there's only a fine line between genius and madness. Perhaps when they become mad enough, the fifth element in their minds can be expanded...

Chapter 198 Mercenaries

"We miscalculated this time."

Rogerson rested his hands on the combat table, his knuckles white from exertion. Sporadic gunfire from outside the tent reminded them that they were surrounded.

The kerosene lamp cast a flickering shadow on his well-defined face, and the scar extending from his brow to his chin looked particularly hideous.

"Thirty men, ammunition, and tactics specifically designed to target us."

His voice was low, as if squeezed out from deep in his chest:

"The probability of escape is no more than 5 percent."

The tent was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Belig sat in a corner, sharpening his hunting knife with a whetstone.

The rustling sound of the blade rubbing against the stone was particularly harsh in the silence.

"Isn't this the outcome we envisioned before the mission, Captain?"

The hunter raised his eyes, the light of the kerosene lamp dancing in his gray-blue eyes:

"That bastard kidnapped hundreds of little girls, and I still don't feel satisfied just by killing his son."

Maxson, an engineer, was checking the last magazine of bullets when he heard this and sneered, "I should have planted a bomb under his bedroom and sent his whole family to meet Satan."

"What's the point of saying this now?"

Cook Hiro stirred the paste in the iron pot, which was their last food reserve - everything edible was mixed together and cooked.

"What matters is what happens next."

The "food" in the iron pot gave off a strange smell. Luncheon meat, compressed biscuits, coffee powder, and even a few packets of sugar were all stewed into a pot of sticky paste.

Hiro tapped the rim of the pot with a wooden spoon, the metallic clang echoing through the tent.

"Give the orders, Captain."

He grinned, revealing a gap where he was missing two front teeth.

"You should know what I mean. As long as you give the order, no matter what the mission is, I will carry it out without hesitation!"

As he finished speaking, all the team members, whether in the tent or outside, turned their heads to Rogerson.

From the moment they chose this industry, they were no longer afraid of death. The only reason they needed orders was for efficiency.

Everyone is out here fighting for their lives, and no one is willing to give in. For the team's efficiency, there must be someone with sufficient prestige to issue orders.

Rogerson looked around at his players.

Hunter Belig, chef Shiro, engineer Maxon, former miner Duke, retired paratrooper Ryan, two sniper brothers Tom and Jerry, and three young men from the slums.

Ten people, ten faces with sharp edges honed by war.

Rogerson smiled, his eyes full of relief, or perhaps it was a hearty laugh.

The death of one person is too lonely, but having 10 brothers die with you is really a bit noisy...

But there's nothing I can do about it. After all, I chose to be their captain. Let them be noisy... Rogerson shook his head, looked at everyone, and smiled.

"Eat, and remember to eat until you're full. Don't starve to death!"

"On the road to hell, if anyone slows down, I won't stop to wait for him!"

"Okay!"

"Okay!"

The atmosphere suddenly became lively, as if these men didn't care at all about their own death.

They just laughed, as if a group of children had proposed something and asked the teacher to set up class rules that suited their wishes.

There were clanging sounds, and the group of muscular men picked up their cutlery, gathered around the simple pot, and shook the unknown object inside.

He picked up the spoon and swallowed and chewed it in big mouthfuls, as if he didn't care about the taste of the food in his mouth at all, and even felt a sense of satisfaction from eating it...

"The plan is simple."

Rogerson grabbed a handful of the paste and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheek muscles rolling like steel as he chewed:

"After this meal, Tom and Jerry will take up the high ground and provide cover, while the rest of you will follow me to break through head-on."

"Suicide charge?" Duke asked gruffly, his huge hands easily crushing a man's throat.

"No," Rogerson said with a sinister grin, "it's a carnival on the way to hell. Kill as many as you can. Once you've killed enough, you've made a profit."

Everyone shared the disgusting pot of mush in silence.

There was no complaining, no fear, just the sound of metal cutlery scraping against iron pots.