Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Lor Morric, that's the name of this body.

The stale air from the basement filled my nostrils, carrying the smells of rust, mold, and a certain sweet, rottenness.

The smell was strange; it didn't smell like a normal, decaying basement, but rather like old blood mixed with melted candle wax.

Wu Heng stood up. The stone slab beneath his palm was icy cold. The ground his fingertips touched was covered with fine runes under a black, dust-like substance.

Each groove was filled with a dark red substance, like dried blood, yet it also shimmered with an eerie fluorescent green light.

Wu Heng looked down and discovered that his original body had previously been lying in the center of a huge pentagram array, with complex incantations drawn on the edges using salt and iron powder.

Lor Morric's body was dressed in a black trench coat, with a silver dagger with a reindeer head at his waist and a bone chain engraved with runes wrapped around his wrist.

Outside of the brain, Wu Heng also extracted various memories from the cells of this body, the surrounding atmosphere, and even the weapon traces.

Lor Morrick, 32 years old, is the current head of the Morrick family. On the surface, he is an antique dealer, but in reality, he is the heir of a witcher family.

However, their family hasn't dealt with strange events for a long time.

Because their wealth was enough for their family to live a comfortable life, but who would want to risk their life?

However, their family still maintains certain connections with the witcher community in this world.

This is an unbreakable network of connections, after all, the world is still dangerous.

They need to stay informed about terrifying events that happen in ways that are imperceptible to ordinary people, and this information and these events can only be obtained through the circle of witchers.

Wu Heng calmly raised his right wrist, his fingers gently stroking the runes on the bone chain, sensing the fragments of memory in this body.

Lor Morric, a Witcher who walks on the fringes of the circle, is the kind of loner who lives with a family that has guarded a secret for generations.

And this basement is the core of everything.

He stood up, the hem of his black trench coat sweeping across the ground, raising fine black dust.

These dust particles are not ash, but rather the ashes from burning.

The flavors are complex, including those of plants, animals, and even some strange creatures.

The basement, a space of 300 square meters, was covered with densely packed runes on all four walls. These were not ordinary protective spells, but something more ancient and bloody.

Deep within each scratch gleamed a dark red light, like paint, soaked in by some force, and could never be washed away.

On the altar in the center of the room, several items were placed:

A silver dagger, its blade engraved with intricate runes, its hilt wrapped with withered vines, as if some living thing had once grown on it.

A crystal bottle, filled with a dark red liquid, swayed slightly in the candlelight, as if it were alive and slowly wriggling.

A thick diary with a leather cover, on which a name is embossed in dark gold ink: Vidal Moric.

It is also the surname Morric.

Above the altar hung a portrait of a man with a sinister face and an almost inhuman sharpness in his eyes, bearing a seven-tenths resemblance to Lorra Morik.

But what immediately catches the eye are his eyes—cold, empty, like the pupils of a predator, devoid of any human emotion. And without the slightest attempt at disguise, one can discern his character at first glance, as if he disdains pretense altogether.

The bronze plaque below the portrait bears an inscription:
Vidal Morric (1632-1798)

“The ancestor of this body?” Wu Heng murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. “It seems this ancestor lived for a full 166 years, and still as a human.”

"It's really fun."

He was referring to the identity of this body.

According to Lor's memory, the ancestor who died more than two hundred years ago is still "protecting" the family. Every member of the Morric family must come here to swear allegiance when they come of age. In return, the family has been wealthy and prosperous for generations and has never encountered any supernatural threats.

But Wu Heng saw much more than that.

The shadow of fear resurfaced in his left eye, and his gaze instantly pierced through the surface of the basement, revealing the truth beneath the altar.

The stone slab beneath the carpet is not solid.

There is a hidden space beneath the stone slab.

Buried inside was a lead box roughly the size of a coffin, inside which curled up a human-shaped mass of gray mist. It had no facial features, yet it was screaming silently and frantically scratching at the inner walls of the lead box, trying to break free of its confinement.

However, the lead box seemed to exert a powerful binding force on him, and even though the inner walls were scratched and mangled, it was to no avail.

In the portrait, a heart made of red substance floats on Vidal's chest. With each beat, countless fine red threads hang down from the ceiling and connect to a crystal bottle on the altar.

“This heart contains not a trace of fear,” Wu Heng murmured softly. “So it’s because it has severed its own humanity?”

"To maintain the enduring existence of one's soul through inhuman 'divinity,' or even to seek some kind of transformation!"

He was no stranger to this method. Some madmen who pursue immortality would split themselves, stripping away their weak human parts and leaving only the absolutely rational 'inhumanity,' which they usually called divinity, but it was clearly not 'god.'

The ceremony before him was perfectly in accordance with the procedure, but the surgical technique used for the incision was, in his opinion, rather clumsy.

Perhaps this ancestor should consult the Fear Monks!
I believe they will show him what a perfect cut looks like.

However, judging from the current situation, the surgery can be considered successful; at least the tissue has been successfully removed.

Wu Heng reached out and touched the Demon Hunter's Diary on the altar. The leather cover trembled slightly under his fingertips, as if it were something alive.

Turning to the first page, one sees a passage written in faded ink, a testament to the passage's passage:

"In 1749, I, Vidal Morric, discovered the truth."

Death is not the end, but the beginning, provided that one is 'pure' enough.

Human nature is corrupt, emotions are weak; only by severing them can we touch eternity…

The diary entries became increasingly obsessive as they progressed.

The ancestor Vidal recorded how he gradually became obsessed with finding the way to eternity, starting as an ordinary witcher. He hunted evil spirits, sealed demons, studied black magic, and even unearthed ancient forbidden rituals.

On a page from 1775, the handwriting suddenly becomes exceptionally neat, as if machine-printed, but it is completely covered in ink, utterly smudged, and the content is illegible. (End of Chapter)