Chapter 37

Filthy mice, germ-free mice, sanitized mice...

The white mouse breeding facility has expanded to eight rooms, strictly adhering to protocols, yielding over a thousand mice. Soon, they can begin cultivating specific pathogen-free strains. In the laboratory, several pieces of equipment previously conceived but unfunded have been manufactured, medicinal supplies fully restocked, and many interrupted research projects can now resume.

Such sudden, overwhelming good fortune—waking up to find everything in place.

Song Qingshi gazed at the mouse cages, his heart pounding. He tugged Yue Wuhuan’s sleeve, eager to express his excitement, but the words in his mind were like a kettle full of dumplings—the more he rushed, the less he could pour out. He was almost in tears over his own clumsy tongue, finally managing to stammer after a long struggle: "You did so well. Thank you."

He must have been blessed in three lifetimes to encounter such a perfect angel!

Intelligent, beautiful, kind, adorable, considerate, and gentle...

Later, he would meticulously record all these qualities in a small notebook and review them three times a day, reminding himself of his immense good fortune.

Yue Wuhuan explained, "The breeding speed of white mice is incredibly fast, so I controlled it later on. Some were used for pharmacological experiments. Of course, I’m not yet fully versed in these experimental methods; I only attempted simple toxicity tests... All mice used in experiments were euthanized."

He found white mice excellent for preliminary poison testing, requiring only one five-hundredth of the dosage, thus conserving many precious medicinal ingredients.

Over the years, he had thoroughly mastered *Nie's Poison Classic* and all other toxicology texts. He also took small amounts of the various poisons Song Qingshi had collected for research, enhancing the potency of the Thousand-Machine Powder and developing numerous new, potent toxins, as well as devising many undetectable methods of poisoning.

On the Life-and-Death Platform, a single needle could claim a life—now, no one dared to trifle with him.

Yue Wuhuan smiled, observing Song Qingshi hunched over the desk, frantically taking notes. He knew this man was a fanatic; once in the lab, he forgot everything else, his mind consumed by research.

Nine fiery red vines quietly extended behind him: two cleaned the mouse cages, two fed the mice, two fetched pastries and spirit tea, two read books, and the last one subtly coiled around Song Qingshi’s ankle while he sat nearby handling the administrative tasks of the Medicine King Valley.

After finishing his observation journal and writing a guide for breeding specific pathogen-free mice, Song Qingshi finally noticed the vines working independently throughout the room. He stared blankly at his ankle for a long moment, then couldn't help but ask Yue Wuhuan, "Do they have sentience?"

"No," Yue Wuhuan set down his brush and smiled. "Their consciousness is my will—somewhat like an extension of my limbs. Wherever they go, I can use my divine sense to observe the surroundings. It’s very convenient; I’ve grown accustomed to handling things this way over the years."

Song Qingshi glanced at the vines reading two books and the ledger in Yue Wuhuan’s hand, bewildered. "So, you’re doing all these things simultaneously? One person acting as several?"

"Mm, there aren’t enough hands, and I have too much to deal with. For less critical matters, multitasking is faster," Yue Wuhuan explained. He then realized this might sound bad and quickly amended, having the vines bring both books over. "I’m only seriously reading *Ling Danzi’s Mathematical Classic*. The other is just experimental data from the apprentices—I was merely skimming it to check for errors."

He found multitasking as natural as breathing or drinking water and didn't quite know how to explain it...

Song Xueba, for the first time in two lifetimes, experienced an intellectual碾压, overwhelmed with mixed emotions.

It was like trying to explain elementary school word problems: simple at a glance, yet no matter how many solution methods he tried—from calculus to advanced mathematics and algebraic geometry—his cousin would still cry and fuss, refusing to learn.

He shouldn't have criticized his cousin for being unreasonable...

Just like now, Yue Wuhuan was earnestly explaining the methods and insights of multitasking.

Song Xueba felt deeply wronged; he truly couldn't understand or replicate it. When he was focused on one task, he couldn't do anything else. When his eyes fixed on one thing, nothing else could enter his perception. Other Nascent Soul cultivators could observe all directions, but he would forget everything the moment something novel caught his eye. His survival thus far relied solely on his unique physique and aversion to going out.

Yue Wuhuan smiled reassuringly. "You’re fine just the way you are."

He loved the way Song Qingshi looked at people—so earnestly, as if the entire world contained only that one person.

Song Xueba decided to salvage his intelligent image. He picked up *Ling Danzi’s Mathematical Classic* and flipped through it, recalling that mathematics in the immortal realm wasn't particularly advanced, at most reaching high school level. This book covered solving systems of three linear equations and applications of trigonometric functions.

Most cultivators neglected mathematics, which was actually incorrect.

Many of his array layouts were derived from mathematical calculations, especially after learning from another world. He now understood more clearly that arrays were similar to circuit boards: every line had to be placed in the most appropriate position, with spiritual energy equivalent to electricity. Combining different "boards" could achieve long-distance communication, security, visual displays, and even offensive weapons.

Of course, the immortal realm lacked mechanization, so arrays couldn't be mass-produced. Everything was handcrafted, making calculation especially crucial.

It was truly remarkable that Yue Wuhuan could grasp this on his own.

Song Qingshi, excellent at math, happily began explaining various mathematical formulas and their applications. He planned to later write down all the knowledge of calculus, number theory, and analysis—essential skills for any science student!

Yue Wuhuan listened intently, pausing all the surrounding vines, completely engrossed in the joy of solving problems.

The two worked on problems in the laboratory until dusk. Suddenly, the Medicine King Valley’s formation arrays vibrated faintly, and the toxic automatons activated their attack mode. Yue Wuhuan sensed the disturbance, looked up from his work with displeasure, and put away the books on the table.

Song Qingshi, unfamiliar with the newly replaced defensive arrays, was somewhat slow to react, a beat behind. He belatedly asked, "Is someone invading?"

Yue Wuhuan smiled. "Not exactly. Just someone breaking in to cause trouble."

Before Song Qingshi could fully grasp his meaning, the laboratory door burst open. The two toxic automatons guarding the entrance were instantly consumed by countless Gu insects.

An Long stormed in, radiating murderous intent and looking disheveled—his hair grown long and hastily braided, his body covered in grimy dirt, his lips cracked and bleeding, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at Yue Wuhuan. Beside him, the equally filthy Hao Long, whose scales had lost their luster, hissed wildly at Yue Wuhuan, eager to swallow him whole.

"What happened?" Song Qingshi asked bewilderedly. "Did you two roll in the mud?"

Yue Wuhuan calmly explained, "Honored Master, the toxic fog array in the swamp has been broken."

Song Qingshi instantly understood, feeling guilty and ashamed. He lowered his head, hunched his shoulders, and cowered.

An Long gnashed his teeth, looking at the man he had been worrying about day and night. He glanced at the tea and snacks on the table, then recalled the letter he had received only after painstakingly breaking through the array. He wished he could tear this fool’s flesh off.

Song Qingshi observed his expression and lips, instinctively understanding his meaning. He immediately picked up his untouched spiritual tea from the table and offered it with both hands: "Would you like some?"

An Long laughed in fury, took the spiritual tea from his hands, and drank it in one gulp. Then, with a pincer-like grip, he seized the clueless fool, hoisted him onto his shoulder, and strode out of the laboratory, intending to find a place to teach him a harsh lesson.

The medical attendants along the path cast sideways glances. Song Qingshi was utterly mortified by the commotion, but knowing he was at fault, he felt too embarrassed to retaliate. So, the alchemical fire in his hand gathered and dispersed, gathered and dispersed, and in his hesitation, he was carried far away.

The Gu insects at the laboratory entrance scattered like a tide, then converged again like a tide, trapping Yue Wuhuan inside.

An Long arrived at Poria Palace, only to find that the Medicine King Valley's centuries-old landscape had completely changed. Many familiar things had been erased, replaced by ostentatious vibrancy, and everywhere bore the mark of that demon.

His territory, once bearing his imprint, had been violated and tainted with an unwelcome aura. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and he violently flung the person off his shoulder.

Even without body cultivation, an ordinary cultivator could have landed steadily from such a simple attack.

However, Song Qingshi’s left side was weak, causing him to lose balance and fall to the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

Seeing his disheveled state, An Long was startled, suspicious, and regretful, his anger immediately diminishing.

Hao Long, not understanding human complexities, was heartbroken to see Song Qingshi fall. He immediately crawled over, straightened up, and offered himself as a crutch.

"Xiao Bai, you’re so kind." Song Qingshi leaned on Hao Long, slowly stood up, and limped to An Long’s side, complaining, "Speak calmly. I don't want to fight you right now."

"What? Are you still injured?" An Long roughly pulled him away from Hao Long, inspecting him thoroughly. Finally, he lifted Song Qingshi’s sleeve, pinching his left arm, and asked, "Is this side immobile?"

Song Qingshi honestly replied, "Half my body was burned by lightning. My meridians and skin regrew, but they’re temporarily not functional."

"It looks like the new skin is softer." An Long squinted, meticulously stroking his arm several times, licking his lips, and grinding his teeth.

Song Qingshi suddenly realized something was amiss and quickly tried to pull his hand back.

However, An Long’s grip was incredibly strong; no matter how much he pulled, it wouldn't budge.

Song Qingshi despaired: "Only one bite. More, and I’ll set you on fire."

An Long raised an eyebrow, asking with a half-smile, "Why not just burn me directly?"

"This isn't your fault," Song Qingshi never liked to justify mistakes and was brave enough to take responsibility. "Although it was an accident, it ultimately caused you to worry about me, so it's my fault. It's only right that you bite me to vent your anger." Besides, he shouldn't have drawn dog heads on the envelope—that was too disrespectful.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of An Long's lips, his aggression subsiding slightly, his grip loosening a touch, and his urge to bite fading.

Song Qingshi pressed his advantage: "I'm the one at fault. If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't blame Wu Huan..."

Before he could finish, a heavy bite chomped down hard on his soft arm—so hard it nearly tore the flesh away.

Song Qingshi let out a pained cry, tears welling in his eyes.

Damn, Alaskan Malamute bites *hurt*.

*Author's Note:*

Yue Wuhuan's Rivalry Story (Future Arc):

Today, Qing Shi glanced at the fluffy troublemaker in Cage C one too many times, praising its glossy fur and exceptional health.

Tch. Tomorrow, that furball’s getting yanked out for toxicology experiments.