Chapter 162: Puppet Technique (1)

"Who... who is it?" Cold-Blood Five asked instinctively, though a name immediately flashed through her mind. Apart from the two of them, there was only one other person here.

"Cold-Blood Thirteen!"

Indeed, it was Cold-Blood Thirteen. The reason Ye Lang had stopped at the cave entrance earlier was that he had seen Cold-Blood Thirteen lying on the ground, looking as though he were dead.

"Let's go take a look!" Cold-Blood Five said calmly, darting toward Cold-Blood Thirteen like a flash of lightning. Her speed was such that even an ordinary person sprinting flat out might not have matched her.

Reaching Cold-Blood Thirteen's side, Cold-Blood Five extended her tiny hand—truly a tiny hand—to check his breathing.

"Well? Is he still breathing?" Ye Lang asked leisurely as he sauntered over from behind.

"He's gone!" Cold-Blood Five withdrew her hand and said with a hint of disappointment. Her reaction was purely disappointment rather than sorrow or grief, and she was disappointed solely because she had lost someone who might have been able to restore her condition.

"Oh..." At that moment, Ye Lang suddenly changed direction. Having originally headed toward Cold-Blood Thirteen's head, he veered toward his waist instead.

"What are you doing?" Cold-Blood Five asked, puzzled by his sudden shift.

"I'm going to grab his ring. I remember he has a decent spatial ring," Ye Lang shouted over his shoulder without stopping, maintaining his rapid pace.

"..." Cold-Blood Five fell silent, cursing him inwardly. *You really are shameless to the core—the moment you realize someone is dead, you rush to loot his ring.*

Besides, Cold-Blood Thirteen's ring was among the best of their group; how could he call it "decent"?

Cold-Blood Five did not know that Ye Lang actually looked down upon such a ring. The one he possessed was vastly superior, but spatial rings were extremely rare nonetheless; those owned by ordinary people were typically very basic and possessed much smaller capacities.

Even an extraordinary organization like the Cold-Blood Syndicate could only acquire ordinary spatial containers, and those were restricted to the Thirteen Eagles of Cold-Blood; everyone else had to fend for themselves.

Although Ye Lang cared little for the ring itself, he coveted its contents. Perhaps it held the man's secret collection of alchemy journals, which would be far more valuable than anything on the outside, not to mention the rare materials stored within.

"Found it!" Ye Lang climbed onto Cold-Blood Thirteen's hand and wrestled the ring off with great effort.

"What good is getting the ring if you can't use it, let alone carry it?" Cold-Blood Five appeared beside him and said coldly. To both of them in their current state, the ring was still far too large.

Moreover, spatial items could not be nested within one another, as doing so would cause a spatial anomaly and chaos. Therefore, this ring could not be placed inside another spatial ring.

"Didn't you know? Spatial rings can expand and contract; they automatically adjust to fit the wearer's hand." Ye Lang slipped the ring onto his finger, and it shrank instantly.

"..." Cold-Blood Five was silent. She had known that fact theoretically, but she had no idea the adjustment could be so drastic.

"Let's see how he died; it should be written in his alchemy journal." Ye Lang first fished out Cold-Blood Thirteen's journal. This was something every alchemist kept, including Ye Lang himself.

They would all document the process of their alchemic experiments, and more detailed ones would even record their personal thoughts and hypotheses.

Generally speaking, obtaining an alchemist's journal meant essentially acquiring all of that alchemist's knowledge—everything they had accumulated in their field.

Consequently, alchemists usually kept their journals inside their personal spatial storage or in deeply concealed places, hidden from discovery at least while they were still alive.

Upon death, however, those precautions became irrelevant, as the spatial contract would naturally dissolve, allowing others to claim the contents.

Even so, to prevent their lifelong painstaking research from falling into enemy hands after being killed, some individuals employed various secret methods to safeguard their journals.

Fortunately, Cold-Blood Thirteen had not deemed it necessary, so his alchemy journal was brazenly stored inside his spatial ring, making it easy pickings for Ye Lang.

*Thud...*

Ye Lang pulled the journal out from the spatial ring. The book was as large as a person; while the ring had shrunk upon being worn, the items inside had not changed in size and remained as they originally were.

Ye Lang stared at the enormous book for a moment, then turned to Cold-Blood Five and said, "Little Five, help me flip the pages."

"Humph!" Cold-Blood Five let out a cold snort and completely ignored him.

"Don't you want us to get back to our original forms?" Ye Lang tempted her, knowing full well that this carrot was the most powerful enticement for her right now.

"Humph!" Cold-Blood Five snorted again, but nevertheless walked over and opened the book.

Watching her struggle to open the volume, Ye Lang could not help remarking, "Little Five, I never took you for this, but you're actually quite cute!"

Imagine a little girl less than twenty centimeters tall, wrestling to turn the pages of a book taller than herself. Even with Cold-Blood Five's habitual icy expression, the sight was undeniably adorable.

"Just read your book and cut out the useless nonsense!" Cold-Blood Five said coldly.

"Turn to the last page." Ye Lang was already accustomed to her tone and paid it no mind.

Cold-Blood Five flipped through the pages while asking, "Why turn straight to the last page?"

"Dummy, that's how we find out when he kicked the bucket," Ye Lang retorted briskly.

"..." Cold-Blood Five felt a sudden urge to strike someone. To think she was being lectured by this idiot! Yet, his reasoning was sound; by checking the date on the final entry of the journal, they could determine precisely when Cold-Blood Thirteen had died.

"Judging by the journal, it's been seven days since the last entry!" Ye Lang murmured thoughtfully as he scanned the page.

"Oh, so he's been dead for seven days," Cold-Blood Five said, casting a complex gaze at Cold-Blood Thirteen, a mixture of pity and sorrow.

"No, he became incapacitated seven days ago, but he didn't die then. His exact time of death was three days ago," Ye Lang said, shaking his head.

"?! " Cold-Blood Five looked at him, uncomprehending.

"Seven days ago, he lost the ability to move. Had someone come to his rescue, he might have survived. Unfortunately, he had no assistants, no one keeping watch over him, so he didn't even get that final chance," Ye Lang said, looking at Cold-Blood Thirteen with a touch of regret.

Alchemists generally kept assistants or companions, not merely for intellectual exchange, but more importantly to ensure that someone would be there to respond in case of an accident.

"Oh..." Cold-Blood Five seemed to understand a little.

The reality was precisely as Ye Lang had surmised: Cold-Blood Thirteen had suffered a minor accident during an experiment. It was not fatal in itself, nor was it something he had paid much attention to, yet that tiny mishap left him paralyzed, forced to lie there and quietly await death.

Just as Ye Lang had said, had anyone stumbled upon him, he undoubtedly could have been saved!