Donald Zade was still roaring like a madman, but while he had his mouth wide open, babbling away, Jill Young flipped her left hand and pulled out a big bottle—about the size of a large Sprite—and shoved it deep into his throat with a thud. Before he could react, Jill gripped the bottle with her fingers and squeezed hard. With a few muffled thumps, a full two liters of Purified Liquid were force-fed straight down Donald’s digestive tract.
Thud! Donald was tossed onto the ground. He coughed violently, feeling like a balloon about to burst—or like his stomach had just been power-washed by a high-pressure fire hose. Snot and tears streamed down his face instantly. But aside from the agony of acute gastric expansion, there was another indescribable restlessness spreading from his gut, seeping into his blood, his bone marrow, every single cell.
His face flushed bright red, and the blood vessels in his eyes looked downright terrifying. He gasped for air in huge gulps, each breath from his lungs coming out scorching hot. The feeling was so alien it made him panic. He shouted, frantic: "What—what did you make me drink?! If you poison me, you'll never find a cure for Genetic Collapse!"
"Poison? Please, I wouldn’t poison you—I’m way too stingy for that. Didn’t you say you had no clue how to ‘break the curse’? Well, lucky for you, I do." Jill Young sneered, her eyes sharp and knowing. She’d seen through guys like Donald a thousand times, and her spiritual training was top-notch. Don’t be fooled by his earlier bravado—he was just putting on a show, hoping for a dramatic ‘bring down the emperor’ moment.
Truth is, he figured he had the upper hand now. No way he’d really risk his life for a trade. Besides, in his mind, Jonathan’s ‘illegitimate son’ life was nowhere near as valuable as his own ‘noble’ existence. A one-for-one swap? Total rip-off.
Jill Young had already sized him up and wasn’t about to compromise. Her smirk grew even more mocking: "Take a wild guess—me, a Witch’s relative, just made you drink a ‘magic potion.’ What do you think it’s for?"
Donald Zade was instantly dumbstruck—totally petrified. Inside him, a strange power was growing, getting stronger. He could feel something snap with a crack. That wild energy was tearing his body apart, making him miserable, but he couldn’t deny it: it was pushing him to a whole new level.
He was ecstatic.
Then came the fear.
He couldn’t believe it, but he had no choice but to believe.
Even now, Master Yang’s internal martial arts keep him locked down. His vitality isn’t strong enough to break through Yang’s technique, leaving him both shocked and desperate, full of hate and fear.
Finally, he remembered 'Genetic Collapse.' He started clawing at his throat like a madman, his stomach spasming as he tried to force the Purified Liquid up through his esophagus and vomit it out. But it was useless—his surging life force was bursting his muscles and pushing his blood vessels aside, making every cavity in his body feel tight. Forget puking, even breathing was a struggle.
He knelt on the ground, unable to get up, staring at a pair of shoes and hearing a voice from above: “Kid, spill everything you know. If you behave after Jonathan’s cured, I might just let you live.”
“N-no-no!” Donald’s face went pale—he was scared out of his mind.
Because—what cure?! That witch’s tricks are unsolvable! Even if there was a way, how would a nobody like Donald know?!
Wait a minute—Donald’s mind raced. He forced himself to suppress the urge to scream and give up. Now’s not the time to quit, or it’s all over!
If I think about it calmly, whatever I say now, they’ll listen. Isn’t this the perfect opportunity? The Zade family is huge, and the cure might be hidden somewhere—I just don’t know it yet. If I can get these people to hunt it down, I might save myself.
Besides, if I play my cards right, maybe I can use these people to achieve some extra goals. Like the Pantheon I’ve been eyeing forever—maybe I can get a few old geezers out of the way and take their seat. Compared to me, these bumpkins know nothing about the Zade family’s secrets.
With my deep intelligence, as long as I plan well, I can rake in all the benefits and wipe out all the enemies. But first, I can’t blow my cover—I need to keep playing along and stay cool! I have to act like I’m in control if I want them to trust me.
Thinking this through, Donald slowly crawled up and thumped down in a corner. Sweaty and disheveled, he forced a mix of indignation and reluctant cooperation onto his face: “Hmph, Witch’s blood—of course you’re all witches! Still, thanks—I couldn’t have broken through without you. As for Genetic Collapse? Ha! I’ve got plenty of ways! But if you want to cure that bastard, you’ll have to…”
Ring ring ring—the phone suddenly rang, cutting off Donald’s performance.
“Hello? What’s up? Awake? That’s good, that’s good!—Hey Mom, you’re up, go ahead…” Jill quickly answered, leaving Donald’s crucial words stuck in his throat. Interrupted, Donald secretly sighed in relief; he couldn’t think of a good excuse anyway, and the call gave him time to regroup.
In critical moments, your brain gets super clear—like a computer on overclock, hot and swollen but super efficient. Time seemed to stretch, and Donald quickly came up with a mostly convincing lie, reflecting on his earlier performance.
As for what Jill said on the phone, it was probably about that bastard’s illness—he didn’t bother to think it over. Judging by her expression, she seemed totally, utterly, absolutely shocked for a moment. Good! That means something’s changed with the bastard. The more twists, the more important I am—the more I can negotiate.
Beep—Jill hung up.
Donald took a deep breath and put on what he thought was the perfect expression—life’s a stage, it’s all about acting. If you want to be emperor or queen, you’ve got to pull off a big con!
“If you want to cure that bastard, you’ll have to—eh, eh, eh?!” Donald still didn’t finish, because Jill had already grabbed his ankle and started dragging him off.
Jill hauled him out, yanked open the door to the next room, and threw him into another intact cell. Donald, caught off guard, cracked his head on the floor and groaned, clutching his head. He was stunned and angry, still clueless why this white-haired woman suddenly went off on him.
Has she stopped caring about that bastard’s life?
He looked up and saw Jill Young closing the door and walking away, not even sparing him a glance.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on?!” Donald lunged at the iron door, banging and screaming: “If you keep treating me like this, don’t expect me to cooperate!”
“You really think you’re hot stuff? About Genetic Collapse, I just got the whole story—causes, cures, everything—from a top expert.” Jill didn’t look back but dropped a bombshell: “In short, you’re useless now.”
Donald felt his heart stop, crushed by a wave of terror. It was absurd, laughable, unbelievable—he told himself the woman was just acting to boost her bargaining power. But her determined footsteps echoed in his ears, like a death knell.
Looks like she really did find a clue.
But now what? After being force-fed, he felt closer to the red line every second—he could hear the countdown to death.
He kicked and pounded the iron door, howling: “Wait up—!”
“One last thing,” Jill paused, turning with a glare sharp enough to kill: “If you say ‘bastard’ again, I’ll make you wish for death every single day.” Her eyes flashed, the pressure hit Donald like a cannon blast, and he screamed and collapsed back into the cell.
Life’s a stage, but he blew his performance.
Ten minutes later, the Shadow Dragon stealth jet took off from Prison Island. Storm clouds churned overhead, waves crashed below, and the black warplane streaked toward Hong Kong. At the medical center, Jill Young met the newly awakened Su Muhua. Qi Meng and others were at her bedside. Su Muhua looked alright, but Jill could tell something was different about her mom.
It wasn’t just exhaustion or fatigue—something indescribable was growing in her.
“Xiuxiu’s illness can’t wait any longer,” Su Muhua said frankly to Jill. “Genetic Collapse comes from the experiment thirty years ago. Since it was never truly completed, it left a hidden danger, which led to Genetic Collapse. The time from symptoms to death isn’t long—honestly, Xiuxiu doesn’t have much time. We need to leave now.”
“Mom,” Jill looked at her seriously, “how do you know all this?”
“You’re not the only telepathic twin in our family.” Su Muhua tapped her forehead. “When I was unconscious, I saw your aunt Joan’s memories. Believe it or not, I can speak fluent English now.”