Chapter 59 Be Good

Chapter 59: Stay Obedient

By the banks of the Horton River, Imuir struggled to climb onto the riverbank.

His face was deathly pale, yet his features were strikingly handsome, and his attire was extravagantly luxurious. The combination of these attributes made him resemble an alluring specter that had crawled out of hell.

He was soaked to the bone, his long black hair drenched and clinging to his cheeks in strands. A deep wound on his abdomen oozed blood and tissue fluid, soaking his opulent robe. Every step he took was filled with excruciating pain.

Imuir clutched his waist and spat out, "Damn it."

This was a riverbank in the outskirts of Illyria. The Horton River meandered through the city, its flow slowing here and forming a wide alluvial plain. After a long struggle, Imuir finally managed to crawl ashore.

His strength was insufficient to carry him to the next riverbank.

But as Imuir looked around, a look of despair crossed his face.

This place was far too remote.

The riverbank was covered in black mud, and the riverbank was lined with large birch trees that had shed all their leaves. Ravens perched on the branches, their cries harsh and grating—there was no sign of life, no trace of human habitation.

But Imuir desperately needed medical attention. His wound was deep, already infected and worsening. He was feverish, disoriented, and barely conscious. Without treatment, he would die on this silent riverbank.

"...No, I can't die yet."

Imuir bit his lower lip, so hard that his teeth pierced the flesh, filling his mouth with the taste of blood. Only this pain kept him barely conscious.

Imuir desperately crawled a few more steps, still clutching a ruby in his hand—if someone found him, he would use it to bargain for treatment and medicine; if someone took the ruby without helping, he would promise a hundredfold reward and return for revenge later. But now, the riverbank was deserted, and Imuir, despite his cunning, had no one to bargain with.

Suddenly, a familiar heat surged in his lower abdomen, followed by convulsions and distortions wracking his body. Sharp pain shot through him, and Imuir nearly bit through his teeth. His lips trembled as he muttered, "No, not now, why now..."

The ruby slipped from his fingers and rolled into the dirt.

Imuir bit down harder on the soft flesh inside his mouth, but the pain was no match for his body's instincts. His fingers went limp, and then, the human figure in the luxurious robe suddenly collapsed, as if deflating. A long-haired, pale golden cat slipped out of the clothes.

It was a stunning cat, with deep lake-blue eyes, thick fur, and a well-proportioned frame—a cat that could command a high price in the pet market.

But it was terribly weak, its paws dragging forward with great effort, leaving a bloody trail on the riverbank that was soon washed away by the river.

Imuir's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until, finally, everything went dark, and he passed out on the riverbank.

*

Bai Yu crossed the embankment and walked to the Horton River.

He had just calmly conversed with the system, gaining a basic understanding of the world and his role.

The world's scientific development was on par with mid-to-late 19th-century Europe. He ran a black clinic, dabbling in illegal medicine and organ trafficking—common practices in Illyria. His current task was to find a cat on the riverbank.

The Horton River meandered, its shoreline long and winding. Bai Yu adjusted his glasses and asked, "Are you sure a cat will appear here?"

66 shrank to the side. "Yes, I'm sure."

With his previous two hosts, 66 had liked to perch on their shoulders. But Bai Yu was cold and aloof, with silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving off the air of a refined scoundrel. He was also a cat-killing psychopath, which made 66 a bit afraid of him, daring only to float nearby.

66 added, "If my positioning isn't wrong, it should be about 50 meters to your right."

Bai Yu followed the direction and indeed saw a faint outline of a cat lying on the ground.

He quickened his pace, then frowned.

The cat was severely injured.

It lay on the ground, its breathing barely perceptible. The wound on its abdomen was horrifyingly gruesome, and it seemed to be in severe pain, its body twitching occasionally.

According to Bai Yu's experience, if not treated immediately, this cat would surely die.

Bai Yu's brows knitted together, and 66 saw this and thought the host, already cold, now looked even sharper, like a blade.

The system trembled with fear, saying, "Host, host, host, I remind you, this cat is supposed to be taken back according to the plot, you can't kill it now, or your story points will be directly zeroed, host—!"

It saw Bai Yu reaching out towards the cat.

Bai Yu carefully avoided the wound and lifted the cat, calmly observed its injuries: muscle tissue adhesion and misalignment, external infection, bleeding and suppuration, elevated body temperature, fever, likely an inflammatory reaction caused by the wound.

Bai Yu usually had no expression, and even less so when observing pet wounds. He stared at the cat's abdomen as if contemplating where to make the incision, like those mad scientists in horror games conducting human experiments.

66, terrified, shouted sternly, "Host, host, this is the mission target, you can't kill it, not now!"

Bai Yu glanced at it, picked up the cat, and said indifferently, "Back to the clinic."

He strode back quickly.

Bai Yu was tall with long legs, walking swiftly. 66 trailed behind, miserable, watching Bai Yu enter the small clinic.

This clinic wasn't for legitimate business; in the chaotic city-state of Illyria, there were no doctors doing legitimate business. Various medicines were scattered haphazardly on the shelves. After Bai Yu checked and inventoried them, he placed the cat on a soft pad, exposing its vulnerable abdomen.

The condition of the wound was not optimistic; the dead tissue had to be removed, pus drained, and the wound cleaned and sutured as soon as possible.

He retrieved a bottle of anesthetic from the medicine cabinet, switched on the light, and reached out to the system, "Give me the syringe."

Handling medical instruments was typically the assistant's role, but without an assistant, the system could manage.

66: "!!!"

Although the abuse in the text did involve drugs and needles, 66 never expected the host to be so twisted as to start with this. It nervously shrank back, doubtful, "...This is just a poor little kitten, it's even severely injured, such a cute creature, and you're using a needle?"

Bai Yu frowned and demanded, "Give me the syringe."

His tone was cold, with strong pressure.

66: "..."

The system turned to the corner, refusing to cooperate.

Bai Yu inspected the surroundings and finally found a syringe in the drawer—the syringes in the illegal clinic obviously did not meet sanitization standards, they were reused, but there were no other options now. Bai Yu had no choice but to briefly soak and rinse it with clean alcohol, then drew up the anesthetic, ready to administer it.

At this moment, Imuir's eyelids fluttered.

He slowly woke up, his lake-blue eyes falling on the clinic's tattered and old partition curtain, slightly stunned for a moment, then saw Bai Yu beside him.

His pupils suddenly contracted.

The illegal clinic had nothing, Bai Yu just wore a blood-stained, unwashed white coat. His glasses reflected the pale light of the incandescent lamp, and he held a needle, drawing an unknown liquid from a dark brown reagent bottle.

The clinic air was filled with the pungent smell of anesthetic, the needle gleaming coldly.

Imuir struggled violently.

He knew that Illyria was a cesspool, with many unknown clinics, where doctors were ruthless and cold-hearted, walking the line between black and white, even conducting live experiments.

And the cold doctor before him was clearly not a trustworthy good person.

"...No." Imuir's entire body trembled as he attempted to bargain with the doctor. "I am a noble from the upper echelons of Irelia. If you stop now, I promise you endless wealth. Using me as experimental material is too wasteful. If you are willing, you could extract much more value from me!"

But all that escaped his lips was a series of desperate meows.

Imuir was in despair.

As a cat, he had no room for negotiation.

Human life was already of little value in Irelia, let alone cats—these ubiquitous mammals were the preferred experimental subjects for unscrupulous doctors. They could be injected with drugs, skinned, and no one would care or even notice.

Imuir had no idea what sinister substance the doctor planned to inject into him. It could be an experimental drug, a substance for abuse, or even a corrosive solvent. He had heard that certain solvents, when injected, would cause muscles to dissolve and decay inch by inch, eventually eroding a large hole in the abdominal cavity, from which pink tissue fluid would flow out.

Imuir thrashed even more violently, reopening the wound on his belly. But the doctor's skilled binding left him too weak to break free, his movements feeble and powerless.

To Bai Yu, the cat was just lying on the examination table, shivering and trying to curl up to protect its soft belly.

Bai Yu reached out and rubbed the cat's head, part helpless, part warning: "Naughty kitten, be good."

"..."

Imuir burned with humiliation. The Duke of Irelia was notorious for his unpredictable temper and cruelty. Everyone treated him with the utmost deference, and it had been many years since anyone dared to rub his head.

But when in someone else's domain, one had to submit. Imuir latched onto the only negotiable part of the doctor's words—be good.

If he obeyed, would there be a chance to survive?

Imuir then exposed his belly, attempting to appear obedient. This position left him feeling somewhat ashamed, as cats didn't wear clothes, and the Duke's attire was luxurious and tightly wrapped, with scarves even covering the skin on his neck. In fact, Imuir hadn't exposed any part of his body other than his face for many years.

Bai Yu murmured, "Good boy."

Before Imuir could feel relieved at having averted disaster, Bai Yu gently pushed the needle, expelling the excess liquid, then leaned down and slowly injected the anesthetic.

The needle pierced his skin, the liquid chillingly cold. Imuir's leg jerked involuntarily, his pupils narrowing into vertical slits as he glared at the doctor, as if trying to etch his appearance into his soul.

He seethed, thinking, "If I survive this, I swear I will flay the doctor alive, lock him in the Duke's dungeon, and subject him to ten thousand tortures with barbed whips, fire, water torture, and everything I can think of, until he deeply regrets what he's done today!"

Imuir seethed with silent curses, but Bai Yu remained oblivious to the cat's thoughts. He skillfully completed the injection and began observing the patient's reaction.

The anesthetics of this era were quite different from modern ones. Bai Yu was also administering pure anesthetic for the first time. Recalling the textbook dosage, he hesitated to administer the full amount initially, instead carefully injecting a small portion.

The kitten closed its eyes, its head tilting to one side.

Bai Yu then took out a cotton ball, dipped it in alcohol, and leaned down to clean the wound.

Imuir twitched twice.

He still maintained a bit of consciousness, the pain in his abdomen burning like someone had stabbed him.

Bai Yu noticed the kitten's twitching, so he picked up the needle again and added a bit more anesthetic.

Imuir felt the needle pierce him once more.

The surgical conditions were crude. Bai Yu was using a human-sized needle, which was too thick for a cat, but there were no alternatives. Bai Yu could only try to be as gentle as possible.

But no matter how gentle, the pain was real. Imuir thought in near despair, "Wasn't that first injection enough? Do you need to add more?"

The first injection had already been so painful, like having his intestines torn apart. Another injection would surely be unbearable.

...To die naked in such a place, how ridiculous.

The anesthetic slowly took effect, and consciousness slipped into the abyss. In the last moment before losing consciousness, Imuir heard the doctor's cold voice: "Where is the scalpel? I need a scalpel."

Author's note:

Current Imuir: I will use barbed whips, fire, and water torture!

Later, when Bai Yu is injured, Imuir: "Meow meow"—sticks out his tongue to lick the wound.