diskusbooks Chapter 213 A Solution to Worry: Prefrontal Lobectomy
Chapter 213 A Solution to Worry: Prefrontal Lobectomy
Chapter 213 A Solution to Worry: Prefrontal Lobectomy
In the Valley of Lost Oblivion, Mordi stepped into the mist, watched by the guards.
There were bloodstains on the road, and it smelled of decay.
This is not the blood of humans or other conventional races, but the blood of creatures from the Forgotten Realm. These creatures had previously revolted, attempting to break free of the mist, but were mercilessly shot down by the defenders.
The putrid blood was their last testament to the world.
"It's a bit like socks that haven't been washed for days, with the fishy smell of seafood."
Modi walked through the mist, casually offering his comments. A streak of blood-red light flicked from his fingertip, landing on a shadowy figure that appeared and disappeared deep within the mist.
The sound of blades piercing flesh rang out one after another, the mist quietly turned crimson, and finally, a blood-red light flew back, much more crimson than before.
The blood-red light fell into Mo Di's hand, condensing into a long sword almost as tall as a person and half the width of a person. The blade was crimson and exuded a lingering bloody smell.
Carrying this makeshift weapon on his back, he calmly stepped into the depths of the fog.
As he ventured deeper, the surrounding scenery constantly changed, and some vegetation that was not found in the North gradually appeared.
Those strange plants, whose fruits resembled eyeballs, swayed their vein-like branches, turning their eyeball-like fruits to look at the uninvited guests.
The blood grass, covered with serrated leaves, swayed gently, its sharp blades concealing a deadly intent, enough to easily slit a person's throat.
There were many more strangely shaped plants that didn't hesitate to unleash their malice, but when they actually faced the host, they were frightened away by his cold killing intent and cowered to the side, making way for him.
With a calm expression, Modi walked through the strange vegetation. His divine vision guided him, and he found himself standing in front of a tall tower.
The tower was forged from forgotten megaliths, its doors tightly shut. Outside the tower stood a fully armed force of forgotten demons. Judging from their equipment, they were not an army, but rather cannon fodder used for probing.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have been unable to even put together a full set of armor and would have had to go into battle bare-armed.
When they saw Modi, they were taken aback at first, then they all grabbed their weapons and unleashed spells, intending to beat the newcomer to his knees before interrogating him about his purpose.
"These local devils are incredibly rude! It's outrageous!"
Modi angrily drew his sword and unleashed a burst of sword energy. Wherever the blade passed, the magic dissipated, and the Forgotten Demon soldiers who rushed forward fell one after another. The scene was almost like mowing down grass in a game.
With just a single blade of energy, the Forgotten Demon army suffered heavy losses, with only a few demon mages in the rear remaining in relatively good condition.
However, Modi had no intention of letting them go. After swiftly dispatching several, he deliberately left one behind, grabbing the last demon by the neck and questioning him.
"Tell me, who is this Forgotten Lord here, and what orders has he given you?"
The demon mage, with his red skin and two short horns on his head, stared blankly for a moment before finally reacting. He spoke in broken Itnity, saying, "Yours is Eternal, mine is incomprehensible."
Why does your Itniti common language smell so plasticky?
Modi gave himself the look of an old man using a cell phone on the subway, activated his language skills, and asked again.
His words took on a completely different meaning when they reached the ears of the demon mage.
"What kind of work is your little Japanese mage doing?"
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The demon mage understood this time and replied in the language of this forgotten land.
With the help of a translator who was fluent in the language, Modi understood what he was saying, although he still had a bit of a colonel's accent.
The demon mage he captured didn't have many sins, so he put him last.
If this forgotten demon cooperates obediently, Modi might be willing to let him go and throw him into Thumb for modification.
"Did the Lost Monarch Rost order you to probe the defenses at the entrance?"
Mordy searched through his memories and only managed to retrieve a few fragments related to Rost.
This forgotten monarch only recently joined the ranks of the immortals, about three hundred years ago. Compared to the long lifespan of the immortals, this period of time is not long.
Over the course of three hundred years, he did not have any special experiences and rarely left his field.
Having achieved immortality through following the rules, his strength had not improved much in such a short period of time; according to the classification of gods, he could only be considered a second-level god.
Perhaps because his potential was exhausted after becoming an immortal, this forgotten monarch has always been uninterested in exploring other worlds and has not been keen on improving his strength. However, for some reason, he changed his mind this time and took the initiative to come to the Northern Territory.
"Yours is excellent."
Modi patted his head approvingly and sent him straight into the Blood Sea Demon Transformation Camp.
When the young man in the red robe looked up again, he saw the tower light up with white light, and white lines were running across the tower, forming the pattern of an eye.
It was as if he were being watched, or perhaps warned; in any case, the lost monarch had discovered him.
"The newcomer is hostile... but I am the one who came."
Without a second thought, he slashed out with his sword, the crimson blade energy striking the tower and piercing through it in an instant.
Regardless of what that lost monarch thought, he had only one solution: to beat him up first.
The blade energy seeped into the tower, almost completely destroying the magical circuits within.
The entire tower was an exquisite magical creation, used for surveillance, amplification, and attack, but now it can no longer fulfill its functions.
The white light faded, the patterns darkened, and the upper and lower levels of the tower separated. The upper part slid down and collapsed along the slanted knife marks, raising a cloud of dust.
At the break, there was a smooth knife mark, with lingering traces of knife energy clinging to it.
Without turning his head, Modi walked straight into the dust. Whenever he saw a forgotten demon blocking his way, he would slash it with his sword and kill it, showing no intention of refusing to attack the weak.
After slaying countless demons, he finally reached his target.
Stopping in his tracks, Mo Di, carrying his long sword in one hand, smiled and greeted the middle-aged man who emerged from the mist.
"The Lost Monarch Rost?"
"Yes, that's me."
The middle-aged man, dressed in plain white, looked preoccupied, his face contorted with worry, the wrinkles on his face so deep they could trap a fly.
He's like a middle-aged man with parents who deeply believe in marketing accounts, a child who loves watching short videos and swears constantly, a wife who loves to compare herself to others, and mortgage and car loan payments due at the end of the month.
This was the first time Modi had ever seen an immortal with such a unique aura.
Unlike the forgotten demons that roam this area, Rost faced him in human form, whether out of respect or for some other reason, it is unclear.
"You seem quite unhappy that I'm here as a guest?" Mordy asked, raising an eyebrow.
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"...How could that be?" Rost forced a smile, but the smile only made him look more distressed. "It is a great honor for me that Your Excellency has graced the Lost Realm with your presence."
"If that's the case, why are you making such a sad face?"
"It's how it is, it's how it is." Rost wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, looking nothing like a lost monarch.
Modi suspected that he was like this all the time, otherwise he wouldn't have acted so naturally.
"You seem to have something on your mind," Modi said with a smile. "I happen to know a way to relieve worries called 'prefrontal lobotomy.' One incision, and I guarantee you'll have no more troubles."
"Of course, considering that you are an forgotten monarch, your physical structure may be quite special. I recommend that you have a full set of examinations first, and then I will tailor a plan for you."
His words were sincere, and he seemed like a doctor who truly cared about his patients.
Rost paused for a moment. He wasn't one of those ignorant demon soldiers who knew what a prefrontal lobotomy was, and he quickly shook his head.
Refusal is useless.
Seeing the large knife still poised to strike, Rost's smile froze. He could tell that the man in front of him really wanted to perform brain surgery on him.
"I know you didn't want to, but who told you to let the forgotten creatures riot?"
Modi's words fell along with the blade.
"No matter what, take my knife first before we talk anything else."
Rost may have his reasons, but since he has chosen to be an enemy of the Blood Cult, he must be prepared to pay the price.
At the very least, one must be able to withstand a Blood-Transforming Divine Blade strike.
A flash of blood appeared, and Rost's expression changed drastically. He felt as if it were not a single slash, but an entire sea of blood pressing down on him.
He dared not be arrogant, nor could he hold back in any way; this was the time for him to give it his all.
A hum resounded from the Lost Realm, as if the world itself were speaking in response to his call.
A mirror appeared in Rost's hand. The mirror had two mirrors, one facing Rost and the other facing the faint glint of the blade.
Reflected in the Mirror of Lost Souls, Rost tore through the disguise of humanity and transformed into a demon with two thick horns and a body that appeared as smoke.
The crimson light on the other side of the Mirror of Lost Light dimmed, like a candle slowly going out, ready to be extinguished by the slightest breeze.
The ability of the Lost Mirror, an artifact of the Forgotten Realm, is to extract the existence of what is reflected in the mirror, rendering it completely lost in the world and unable to function. This is also the manifestation of Ross's power.
"It should have succeeded, right?" Rost stared at the dim red light, and breathed a sigh of relief as it was about to completely dissipate.
But the next moment, a bright red light shone forth, and the crimson blade light, which was about to disappear from the world, suddenly revealed an extremely strong presence, returning to reality from the brink of being lost.
The blade flashed through his body. Rost stared blankly at the knife mark on the mirror, then looked at the wound on his chest that had almost split him in two, and gave his usual bitter smile.
The moment the blade disappeared, Mo Di's voice arrived belatedly.
"Your authority is quite good; it is particularly effective on inanimate objects that cannot think."
But his Blood Transformation Divine Blade is not a purely inanimate object; even the emitted blade light and blade energy are imbued with blade intent.
The intent of the sword itself is the condensation of the wielder's thoughts, the killing intent towards the enemy. When integrated into sword techniques, it can produce all sorts of changes.
This is the "divine" technique, a required course for every master.
"I see." Rost understood his meaning and said with a wry smile, "I've lost. Ask me anything you want. I'll tell you anything I can answer."