Chapter 92: Jack Doll Box: Infinite Health (Bonus Chapter)

The accountant first looked around, confirmed Bob wasn’t there, then spoke.

“Bob has been killing more people lately. Most are enemies, but it’s caused unrest—and it doesn’t clean up the bodies. The trail of traces it leaves behind is too obvious.”

“The police are already investigating. If not for our contact inside the precinct, we’d have been caught by now.”

“If this keeps up, I’m worried FBL might send someone over…”

FBL, the famous American intelligence agency, is more focused on domestic operations than the global CIA—and it’s precisely this that makes FBL the true terror of America’s major crime syndicates.

Upon hearing this, Karl frowned slightly.

Bob, the “clawed thing” he had kept hidden, was the grotesque, alien-like monster revived after absorbing nourishment.

It could aid the one who revived it—any target the master wished to eliminate, it could find and kill.

Originally, it was revived to find Louis, but later he discovered it was incredibly useful—for sudden strikes, assassinating enemy leaders, and more.

But now it seems this thing has problems…

Its original master, it seemed, was caught by police because it left traces uncleaned, and ended up behind bars.

So whether intentional or not, its use must be handled more carefully.

“I’ll rein it in. Did you find that thing?”

This was actually the accountant’s second point: “Found it. The music doll box has been in a museum in England for years, stolen a few years back, suspected to be taken by an antique thief, then later appeared at the Rose Estate. Our people sent there have located it—it’s now on a plane heading back.”

Hearing this, Karl perked up, his cloudy eyes gleaming with longing and anticipation.

The music doll box originates from a French myth called the Yaohe , but this box is only loosely related to it.

Its true name is the Jack Doll Box. Its real origin: a clown actor, possessed by a demon, went to a priest for exorcism—but the priest had selfish motives. He deceived the clown, sealed him inside a specially crafted doll box, and forced him to fulfill wishes.

In the end, the priest successfully obtained a child of his own.

That’s why he sought this box—to fulfill a wish, to regain youth, to extend his life.

The more power, wealth, and status one has, the more one fears death.

He does too. He wants to live.

He doesn’t want to die.

…

Inside the cave.

After regaining his strength, Louis returned to the cave at once.

Snap!

He opened the tin box, took out the decapitated head of the Flesh-Eating Demon—its face peeled off, eyes tightly shut. Since more than twenty-three days had passed, the creature had long fallen into slumber.

That won’t do. I didn’t bring it back to let it sleep. It must move!

Looking at the neck wound beneath the head, Louis quickly devised a solution.

Not long after, a corpse of a Latin American human trafficker—headless, blood barely seeping—lay inside the cave. Louis put on his bulletproof vest first, then placed the head onto the neck wound.

The moment it touched, veins surged like drawn by invisible force, automatically attaching to the underside of the skull. Bones twitched slightly, gradually fusing together. Flesh grew, covering the new spine. Skin spread along the neck, then across the entire body.

Muscles swelled. The body grew taller. The normal human toes began transforming into sharp, massive claws…

Soon, the once-skinny human trafficker’s corpse had become towering and fearsome. If dressed in a black trench coat and hat, it would be an exact replica of the terrifying Flesh-Eating Demon!

But its eyes remained tightly shut, still in slumber.

Louis didn’t take chances—he stabbed it once. No reaction.

He stabbed it a few more times. Still no reaction.

But Louis didn’t lower his guard.

Clap! Clap!

He clapped his hands.

Half an hour later.

On the cave walls, chains stretched across, binding the towering Flesh-Eating Demon. Its ankles were slit; crimson blood streaked with black dripped from its heels into a bucket below.

A faint stench of rot lingered in the air.

Louis didn’t mind it at all—his lips even curled into a smile. If the blood were still bright red, that would mean the experiment had failed.

This bucket of blood, if used as a base for cultivating Guchong , would make an excellent catalyst.

He moved the bucket aside, pulled out a bag of blood, and inserted it into the creature’s wrist, transfusing it at maximum rate. Since it was a monster, he didn’t care about speed limits, vessel tolerance, or anything else—he just poured it in hard.

It’s this tough!

He wanted to see how fast the monster converted blood into its own—and later, he’d need to press his palms against its orifices to forge the Blood Curse Pearl, requiring additional blood inside its body.

Quickly.

Time passed.

Louis calculated the conversion efficiency and the power of the new Blood Curse Pearl.

The monster could indeed convert blood into demonic blood, with no visible limit—but perhaps due to its slumber, the efficiency was limited: only once every twelve hours could it fully replace its blood.

The new Blood Curse Pearl was vastly different: the blood bead was surrounded by a ring of black patterns, strangely intricate, and its power was over ten times that of an ordinary Blood Curse Pearl.

In fact, Louis suspected the Blood Curse Pearls produced from the Flesh-Eating Demon’s body might hold more secrets—but what exactly, he could only explore later. He didn’t have time for aimless investigation.

Finally, Louis decided to name this new Blood Curse Pearl the Demon Blood Curse Pearl.

After completing the experiment, Louis stared at the Flesh-Eating Demon, bound to the wall like a dead pig, his gaze burning.

“Can’t waste it. Every bit of flesh and blood is valuable—catalyst for Gushu , Demon Blood Curse Pearls, future material for new techniques… bones, bone marrow, tendons, wings, eyeballs, teeth…”

As a poor man on the mystical side, even this low-tier mystical material, Louis treated as a treasure.

Especially since this thing is entirely usable—every part can be harvested. Truly a treasure.

Must be preserved properly.

But… should I move my base?

This thought surfaced in Louis’s mind.

I’ve captured over twenty beasts now, and so many secrets. Staying here in the back mountain is becoming inconvenient.

Maybe I should buy a small ranch—then I can let the Eighteen Fierce Dogs of Kha’Zoth roam freely when needed.

Hmm. I’ll scout the area in a couple days. Move somewhere else.

With that settled, Louis turned his gaze to the three sheep beside him, already starving and near death.

The Flesh-Eating Demon’s purpose is understood. Now it’s your turn.

(End of Chapter)