VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 990: Mortal Blade

Vision beyond human limits, scalpel skills near divine, thirty years of surgical mastery.

With just two men, these feats completed the world’s pinnacle surgery—a brain-and-body transplant.

As the “new boss” showed steady heartbeat, blood pressure, and breathing, Lin Changrong slumped to the floor. At his advancing age, Lin Changrong could scarcely endure the marathon surgery’s demands, even as a mere guide barking instructions, let alone shouldering the roles of anesthesiologist and circulating nurse in the chaos that followed.

From beyond the surgery room, the brutal crash of doors being smashed open echoed one after another, signaling Dragon Gate’s collapse as Hong Gang’s forces scoured the stronghold, relentless in their hunt for their ultimate prize: You Dragon King.

Yet Lin Changrong remained unruffled, his composure unshaken as a neutral titan whose influence spanned the medical realm—crossing him was tantamount to defying the entire industry. Unless one forswore hospitals and scalpels forever, even the mightiest warlord would grant him deference.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. “Little brother, want one?”

Ye Shisan held his surgical stance, a dozen gleaming tools hovering midair, motionless, as if awaiting orders.

A chill of unease crept over Lin Changrong, his instincts whispering that something was gravely amiss. “Little brother? …Ye Shisan?!”

Before he could finish, the surgery door burst open with a bang. A pack of burly thugs stormed in, their rifle butts raised to crush Ye Shisan’s skull.

Oddly enough, before they got within three steps of Ye Shisan, a strange hissing sound emerged in the air.

The hapless thugs instantly disintegrated mid-stride into grotesque, uneven chunks, flesh scattering across the floor, the air thick with the stench of blood and ruin.

Lin’s eyes widened, his cigarette hand shaking. His sharp vision caught it—Ye Shisan’s controlled surgical tools carved them in an instant.

More assailants rushed in, someone fired a shot. Gunfire roared with metallic clinks. Every bullet aimed at Ye Shisan split into four neat pieces midair, fluttering to the ground.

Ye Shisan turned his face, seemingly drawn to them.

“Ye… Shisan…” Lin tried to speak, but his voice failed.

His gut warned: make a sound, and he’d be next, sliced to pieces.

Lin watched, helpless, as Ye Shisan stepped forward, anyone daring to bar in his path became eerie, neat chunks of flesh.

Hong Gang felt fear for the first time.

They fired wildly, but Ye Shisan advanced, step by step. Bullets sparked into golden flares before him.

The hovering surgical tools seemed to deride their futile ignorance.

An arc flashed. A thug tossed a grenade. “Die, bastard!”

Barely half a meter from his hand, the grenade split apart on its own.

The front line glimpsed, for the first time in their lives, the cross-section of a grenade’s inner structure—only to be consumed by a violent explosion right after.

Amid screams, Hong Gang fled. This was beyond reason. Their worst fear became one word: ghost.

Big Block fired a shot skyward. “Hong Gang! Retreat, and you’re dead! Charge!”

“Boss, it’s a ghost! A real ghost!”

“Damn you! Stirring up chaos!”

Big Block shot the man’s head, bellowing, “I’ll see this ghost myself!”

Grabbing a lackey’s rocket launcher, he charged.

At the sight of Ye Shisan standing alone, Big Block froze, disbelief flashing across his face: Just one man? Clutching a Beixiong RPG-7, he sneered with grim confidence. No way you walk away from this!

He fired. The warhead screamed out.

A frantic voice wailed from the side, “Boss! Too close! The blood-soaked lesson’s clear—twenty meters is the safe range…”

Too late. Big Block also saw the warhead’s cross-section.

A cataclysmic boom erupted, transforming the hall into a grotesque carnival of carnage—shredded flesh, blood, and fragments smeared across walls and strewn over the floor.

Hong Gang’s survivors, crazed, howled as they fled. Those behind, clueless, followed the stampede.

As the mob scattered, only one guard guarding You Long'er remained. Before he could figure out what was happening, everyone had already fled.

Immediately afterward, he saw a tall man slowly approaching from the far end of the corridor.

Panicking, he clutched You Long’er’s red hair, pressing a gun to her head. “Kid, don’t move! Or I’ll waste her!”

“Don’t… come closer!”

“Stop, I said!”

“Damn it! You think I’m joking?! Hell…”

His words choked as You Long’er watched him sliced in half, like meat on a slab.

Ye Shisan stood with his eyes shut, while the dozen surgical tools swaying in midair cast a chilling, otherworldly menace.

You Long’er tasted despair for the first time in her life.

Thrashed desperately, but her hands and feet bound tightly, she couldn’t flee. As Ye Shisan approached with deliberate steps, two scalpels swayed before her face.

With a final surge of strength, she spat out the tattered gag, screaming, “No!”

Her terrified cry echoed a summer night twenty years ago. The class flower had screamed like that.

He hadn’t stopped.

No, it wasn’t him.

It was the thing inside.

Ye Shisan woke.