Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Chapter 99 The Limb Extender

At midnight, Gordon returned to Green Shade Mansion.

After being questioned, the gamblers had mostly dispersed, with only the mansion's staff still being detained.

"External experts provided the key solution," Gordon explained to Martin. "To achieve this, we had to extract all the high-value intelligence within Green Manor, including information from the Blackwater Hermitage and even information about customers collected by Olivia, and disclose some of it to them."

"The scope needs to be reviewed."

"It can be reviewed, and it can be de-identified before sharing. But knowledge needs to be exchanged for knowledge. - Martin."

"I agree," Martin agreed. "Then, proceed with your ceremony."

Gordon quietly arranged the ceremony.

The "Ceremony of Immaculate Confusion" uses light-image spiritual crystals as raw materials and sacrificial offerings that are magical objects once used for navigation. The ritual involves guiding the way with lamps, with people lining up in order of height behind the shadow of the person at the head of the group, and collectively reciting prayers.

Rundnim has no shortage of luminous spiritual crystals, and lanterns are easy to find, but the navigational artifact is currently unavailable.

Gordon took out his living water compass.

This isn't a valuable item; we can easily make another one.

"Finish your final navigation." Gordon raised the compass, which pointed forward.

"We'll reimburse you," Martin said. "How much is it worth?"

"The material cost isn't high. But you have to compensate me for emotional distress. Give me 10 gold pounds."

Martin considered the offer very seriously.

Next, Gordon had the tallest patrolman, who was nearly 2 meters tall, stand in front of him, holding a bright lantern that illuminated the road ahead and cast a long shadow. Each of them held a handful of luminous spiritual crystals.

The patrol officers lined up in a row.

"What a terrible ceremony. Who came up with this idea?" Shirin muttered to herself. She stood at the back of the line, looking at the long, wall-like queue of figures in front of her.

"I'll give you two hours. If you lose contact, I'll have a steam excavator cut off the entire entrance and go down to rescue you."

"Martin said."

"It's a demolition project, isn't it?"

"Finding you is a rescue in itself."

"—Illusion may bend the road, but it cannot bend the light; straying may lead to the destination, but it cannot swallow the end—"

"—" Gordon led everyone in reciting.

The living water compass trembled violently, then cracked. Gordon instinctively reached out to catch it, but ended up only grabbing a handful of disoriented fragments.

The spiritual light in each person's hands also emitted a faint glow.

The line descends, each person following the steps of the person in front of them, their posture absurd, yet their steps must not be wrong.

Their boots stepped in sequence down the stone steps, the stairs spiraling as the light at the entrance gradually diminished until it was swallowed by darkness.

Gordon kept confirming that everyone still had the light in their hands, that their steps could keep up, and that everyone's shadow fit together perfectly.

They climbed 67 steps, and with one more step, they arrived at the corridor with the sound of rushing water. Beside them was a turbulent ditch. Gordon took out a map of the underground hydrology of Lundenim and confirmed that this was a single path leading to a place called "The Great Pool." Below that was a pure underground waterway accessible only to merfolk.

Several ambushers were hiding around the corner, ready to give them a surprise.

Gordon heard their commotion and signaled for the group to disperse.

"Be careful. Don't crowd together, there are people there."

Everyone acted quickly, and this time no one asked him how he knew.

He reached out, and the thin thread moved along the floor tiles, around the corner, and wrapped around the ankles of several people.

The person hiding behind the corner was suddenly pulled down, knocking over two of his companions.

"what!"

"Don't crash!"

Hearing their commotion, the patrolmen quickly drew their pistols and raised their bullseye lanterns.

Gordon continued to tighten the thin line, slowly dragging the wet-footed people out of the corner.

By the time the patrol officers rushed over, they were already tied up, their arms, ankles, harpoons, and shotguns jammed together, making them unable to move.

The patrol officers rushed up and began to beat them violently with batons, only relaxing slightly after they had knocked them unconscious.

A low growl came from afar.

"Aww!" A swimmer rushed out as soon as the ambush failed.

This creature is over two meters tall, with its entire right arm transformed into a giant pincer, and its feet are huge and webbed, making it incredibly fast.

"Shoot it in the knees," Gordon ordered.

Shirin raised her hand and fired a shot.

The swimmer's left knee exploded instantly. He screamed and his body tilted rapidly as his massive frame fell forward. Gordon quickly threw out a rope to tie him up and used the momentum to twist his upper body.

boom!

The swimmer was quickly knocked to the ground, and the mutated crab claws were bent backward.

It struggled desperately, but Gordon had already stepped on it, weaving a net with his hands, precisely locking its wrists, elbows and leg joints, breaking its strong body into several parts that could not exert force at the same time.

"Don't move, I'm a professional." Gordon is skilled in both demon dissection and human medicine, so he can easily handle limb reattachment for demons.

It's easy to say, but the bound swimmer already understands that "professional" means not being able to even move a finger.

so horrible.

He never imagined that such a method of capture existed in the world. He was truly like a crab that couldn't move, having lost all his dignity.

"Hiss—" the swimmer hissed from his throat.

"————" When Shirin held the gun, she was like a completely different person. She gripped the gun with both hands and pointed it directly at the swimmer's forehead to make sure it wouldn't rebel.

With the other patrol officers holding down the fort, Gordon began questioning.

Where is Olivia?

"————" The swimmer gritted his teeth.

"A skilled doctor can inflict unbearable pain, and I have many ways to make you wish you were dead right now." Gordon tightened the thin thread.

The opponent's joints made a terrifying grinding sound as Gordon deliberately pressed his own weight onto his hands and feet, making every movement extremely painful.

"Aaaaah—" he screamed, the pain almost exceeding the limits of human endurance.

Gordon tightened the line again, repeating this process until the swimmer was drenched in sweat, veins bulging on his forehead, and his eyes were rolling back in his head.

This swimmer has multiple values: he is a living witness, a witness, and an unusual limb sample.

"explain."

"————The pool————" the swimmer whispered, "She went to the deepest, largest pool."

"Where's Ellen?"

"With her."

"Where is the doctor? The doctor from your mansion, he's always with Eileen."

"Albert—I don't know, he disappeared yesterday."

"What's in the big pool?"

"A fight." The swimmer shook his head in pain. "Olivia is fighting with some people over there."

"How could that be?" Gordon frowned.

"Yes, they came from the water—right under the big pool. Olivia told me and the others to guard this place and not to worry about the mansion, just to prevent anyone from coming down those stairs—they were in a hurry."

Gordon and Shirin exchanged a glance.

Green Mansion was not only raided by the police, but a civil war also broke out underground. Olivia clearly had other enemies, who could also swim freely, but were not on her side.

Perhaps it's another faction within the Blackwater Order, or maybe it's that particularly pleasant-sounding "Ningning" —

"Follow us." Gordon tied the swimmer with a rope and led him forward, allowing him to walk with difficulty despite his ailing leg, but he was unable to struggle.

Gordon walked 40 meters along the adjacent ditch and entered the treatment area.

Here, there is a row of iron beds, all welded with iron rings to secure the hands and feet, with leather straps hanging down, covered in bloodstains, and on both sides are glass medicine cabinets and filing cabinets of various sizes.

Gordon walked over and opened the file.

Each file has no name, only a number.

"Code Name 10" — Eats 11 pounds daily, increased aggression at night, good gill respiration — Lung atrophy —

"Enhance reproductive drive —" Gordon flipped through the pages. The mansion's doctor, Albert, seemed to specialize in performing aquatic biochemical surgeries. Each page recorded information such as the number of times a person excreted each day, their body temperature, and even calculated maintenance costs and expected lifespan.

These files resemble medical records or livestock logs.

Gordon at least gave the rat a name; it rings a bell and tries to escape. Here, even the most basic friendliness is omitted.

"————Terrifying." Shirin walked to the end of the room, where the deceased modified humans lay.

One modder had the lower body of a seahorse grafted onto his abdomen, his legs curled up. Another modder looked like a leech with a head. And yet another was covered in dense, hard scales.

Gordon turned to look at the captured limb-splitter, whose right arm was a huge crab claw and whose feet were webbed.

He went over and examined it carefully, flipping through the relevant records.

"Code name 20 {—Your right arm was severed in an industrial accident and has now been grafted onto the right arm of a giant claw demon. Is this you?}"

"————" The swimmer was covered in sweat.

Gordon carefully examined the file and observed the swimmer's reattached arm, vaguely seeing traces of spirituality extending from the demon's limbs into the human's flesh.

"Is this the doctor's—source ability?" Gordon observed, "forcing your body to accept the alien structure without producing a rejection reaction."

This is terrifying. Gordon pondered. If it could be replicated reliably, this technology could revolutionize medicine and create an army without normal human structures.

"The doctor and Lady Olivia gave me a way out," the swimmer gritted his teeth.

Gordon stared at him, without talking to him about justice, crime, or the value of life.

"What else do you do here besides guard the door?"

"I patrolled the entire underground of Greenwood Mansion, moving patients and corpses, and sometimes cleaning equipment. When the Secret Order clashed with other organizations, I led my men into the fray."

"How much is the salary?"

"What?"

"You do all this dangerous work here, how much are you paid?"

"No salary—"

How many days a week do you work?

"What do you mean, work one day at a time?"

"There are fixed days off."

"Never heard of it."

"sick leave?"

"I am a patient," the swimmer whispered.

Overtime pay, insurance, promotion?

"Unheard of."

Gordon nodded and explained to Shirin, "I misunderstood the Blackwater Hermitage. I thought they were stealing Imperial assets, but now they've increased their efficiency and dedication to those assets a hundredfold."

"I have no choice—" The swimmer looked at his enormous grafted arm. "If I leave the doctor, it will rot; if I leave the mansion, I will die."

"There's a very real promotion path now," Gordon said, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. "Immediately transfer to the Lundnim Police Department as a witness for the prosecution. Shireen, what does that mean?"

"Protect! Support! Justice!" Shirin greeted the man.

"I can't drag this back to the surface," the swimmer sighed.

"It's fine." Gordon checked the swimmer's limbs again.

The "doctor" at Green Mansion was fairly scientific in his technique. He attached the limb near the latissimus dorsi muscle, avoiding major blood vessels, but still connecting it to the main spine and generating new nerve bundles. These bundles would continuously consume the host's nutrients and secrete a small amount of metabolites.

"How do I do it?" he asked expectantly.

"We need to find that doctor first. You need to tell me what the doctors in this area use most often." Gordon looked around.

"There—!" The swimmer pointed to the operating table with his normal left arm, on which lay a bloodstained scalpel, which had been repeatedly handled, cleaned, and stored by the doctor.

Gordon picked up the scalpel, activated "String Recognition," and immediately drilled out a tiny thread.

But unlike Olivia's direction, the thin line points upwards.

Gordon looked up at the Green Mansion, the streets of the North District, and the slumbering Lundnium. The doctor wasn't deep inside, and might not have even escaped to the Blackwater River in the first place.

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