“This…”

Hearing Li Ang's words, the village chief hesitated slightly. After pondering for a moment, he said sincerely, “To be honest, we also have physicians in our village. For decades, they have been studying the essence of progeria. They have even used all the knowledge, techniques, and items available in our inventory, but so far, they have achieved nothing. This kind of progeria may belong to the realm of miracles, beyond human reach.

Brave Warrior, your medical skills may not be of much use…”

Before the village chief could finish his words, he saw the brave warrior wave his hand and calmly say, “Yours is useless.

Mine might be useful.

If you don't believe me, I'll perform a magic trick for you.”

With that, Li Ang took off the Mirage Dragon Crimson Mane outer glove from his right hand,

Raised his right arm horizontally, with his palm facing himself. Then, he used the index and middle fingers of his left hand to gently pinch the thumb of his right hand, making a horizontal pulling motion.

The village chief was stunned for a moment, feeling somewhat amused and exasperated.

Isn't this just that old visual magic trick? The upper half of the right palm's thumb is hooked downwards, and the upper half of the left thumb is used to replace it. When moving the palm horizontally, pretend to pull off the right palm's thumb.

It's not even a visual magic trick; it's just a street trick to amuse children…

Shred—

The brave warrior actually used brute force to pull off his right palm's thumb. Instantly, blood spurted from the severed finger like a high-pressure water tap, creating a horrifying scene.

The dragon-masked warrior was prepared, pointing the wound towards his mouth in advance, using the dragon mouth to catch all the blood without spilling a drop. He even had the leisure to calmly say, “How about it, village chief? Did I show you a trick or two?”

Forget about how many tricks you showed, aren't you going to stop the bleeding? The blood loss is huge!

Under the shocked and astonished gazes of the village chief and the other players, Li Ang reattached his severed right thumb, instantly stopping the blood spurts. Then, he stuffed his entire right hand into the dragon mask's mouth.

After a series of gurgling sounds, he pulled out his right hand, with no blood stains remaining, as if it had never been pulled off.

“This move is called limb reattachment. As long as the head isn't severed, everything can be reattached.”

Li Ang used the tone of a street vendor selling miracle cures to boast, “Actually, even if the head is severed, as long as it's not for too long, and the brain doesn't lose too much blood and oxygen, I can reattach it.

It's just that there might be some memory loss, leading to brain confusion, etc.

If the village chief wants to experience it firsthand, I have a knife here…”

“No need, no need!”

The village chief raised his hands and quickly refused, the pale expression on his aged face giving the impression that he might faint at any moment.

“No need? That's a pity.”

Li Ang stuffed the kitchen knife he didn't know where he pulled out from back into the inner pocket of his white coat.

With a thud, an object like a glass ball fell from inside the dragon mask.

Upon closer inspection, it was an eyeball with a brownish-yellow iris.

“Ah, my eye fell out.”

Li Ang reached out and grabbed the eyeball falling in the air, stuffing it back into the dragon mask's mouth.

Whoosh—

The next second, more than a dozen eyeballs of different sizes, shapes, and pupil colors rolled out of the dragon mask's mouth.

Li Ang shouted, “Single Dragon Plays with Pearls!”

He actually used his hands to grab all the eyeballs, throwing them into the air one by one like a circus performance.

The eyeballs drew arcs in mid-air before falling back into the dragon mask's mouth.

Gulp—

The sound of chewing and swallowing came from inside the dragon mask, as if Li Ang had chewed all the eyeballs again and eaten them back into his stomach.

This time, not only was the village chief's face as pale as paper, but even Ding Zhensi's face was also pale, feeling his sanity drop a little.

Those eyeballs probably weren't fake. The ends were still connected to nerve fibers, and judging from their appearance, they were definitely not from one person…

The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became. Damn it.

Ding Zhensi vaguely remembered Xing Hechou's reliable evaluation of Li Risheng. It didn't seem to mention that he was an abyssal demon in human form…

Li Ang ignored the gazes of others, patted his belly, and said with a smile, “Village chief, how about it? Are my medical skills passable?

Anyway, it's just a try. You won't lose anything, and you won't be fooled.

If I really have a way to solve the progeria in your village, it can be considered a contribution to the peace of Holy Mountain, right?”

The village chief really wanted to politely refuse, but the words that came to his lips turned into, “Then… let's try it first…”

The other party was the first brave warrior team to enter the Holy Mountain range in decades, and they seemed to have killed that shadow demon beast and reclaimed the bricks of the Holy Mountain gate. Their strength was naturally guaranteed.

If the other party didn't agree to spend the wish opportunity on resolving the progeria, then he could only rely on medical means…

The village chief hesitated before walking out of the house, leading the players and a few village guards waiting outside towards a corner of the village.

In less than a few minutes, the group arrived in front of a small house. Stepping inside, they saw a large pile of funeral supplies stacked in the living room.

After the village chief's introduction, the players learned that,

Due to the Guardian Village being plagued by progeria for a long time, the villagers would rapidly age after the age of fourteen or fifteen, and few could live past the age of thirty.

This small house was inhabited by a twenty-eight-year-old villager. Knowing that his days were numbered, he followed the village customs and prepared funeral supplies, including a coffin, in advance, ready to be buried at any time.

This was also the norm in the village. In the village chief's personal study, there was also a coffin placed upright, used as a bookshelf. The day he died, he would simply lay the bookshelf horizontally, remove the baffles, and lie directly inside.

Although they knew that everyone would have this day, the pain of constantly feeling death approaching was still unacceptable.

The villager's family members, busy with funeral preparations in the house, all wore sorrowful expressions. They were quite surprised when they heard the village chief introduce that a “divine doctor” had arrived.

The village still maintained old customs. The village chief had the final say in the village and had extremely high authority.

The villager's family quickly agreed to let the divine doctor go upstairs to examine the patient.

Since the small house was quite narrow, Ding Zhensi, piloting the Kui Niu mecha, couldn't enter the house and waited outside.

The other players followed the villagers, walking up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor, arriving at the twenty-eight-year-old villager's bedroom.

As soon as they entered, everyone except Li Ang frowned slightly. The room's window was open, and the light was bright, but it still exuded a stale smell, full of a dying atmosphere.

The villager lying on the bed looked much older than the white-haired village chief. His entire skin was dry and dull like rotten wood, covered in wrinkles, stretched tightly over his twig-like bones.

His eyes were cloudy and dim, floating with wisps of murky sediment.

His hair had fallen out to the point where only one or two strands remained, growing messily on his scalp, which was covered in black spots.

“Andrew? Andrew?”

The village chief sat by the bed and gently called the villager's name twice.

The latter lay quietly on the bed. After a long while, he seemed to react, turning his head extremely slowly, his cloudy eyes reflecting the village chief's figure.

“We found a doctor for you. If all goes well, he can cure your progeria. Maybe he can save others, even save our village. Can you hear me?”

The village chief asked repeatedly, but received no meaningful response. Only then did he stand up, take a deep breath, bite his teeth, and look at Li Ang with determination, saying in a deep voice, “Brave Warrior, please take a look at him.”

“Mm.”

Li Ang nodded, moved a chair over, sat down by the bed, reached out and held the hand of the aged villager, slowly closing his eyes.

In a corner unseen by others, Li Ang's palm pierced out a large number of extremely fine plant fiber threads, piercing the villager's skin, drawing blood, and analyzing the body.

This analysis lasted for a full ten minutes.

Just when the village chief and the villager's family were about to become restless, Li Ang slowly opened his eyes, exhaling a long breath of turbid air.

“Doctor, doctor, how is my father?”

A villager who looked like a middle-aged man, but whose actual age was unknown, asked nervously.

Li Ang turned his head to look, calmly nodding and saying, “Are you the deceased's family member?”

???

The atmosphere in the room froze.

Li Ang patted the back of his dragon mask, smiling awkwardly, “Sorry, this patient's condition is too special. Even I mistook him for dead.

Cough, cough, he's still alive.

I just took a look, and this progeria…”

“How is it?” the village chief asked nervously.

“It can be cured.”

Li Ang drawled, slowly saying, “But it's very, very troublesome.”

The words “can be cured” were all that remained in the minds of the village chief and the villagers, and they hurriedly asked, “Do you have a way? What way? What do you need us to prepare?”

Li Ang waved his hand and stood up from the chair. “Let's talk outside.”

He walked to the balcony with the village chief, leaning against the edge of the balcony, waving to signal his player companions in the distance to come over—such a short distance couldn't block the teammates' hearing, and it wasn't any confidential information that needed to be guarded against temporary teammates.

The group stood on the balcony. Li Ang looked down at the street scene below, pondering and saying, “Village Chief, let me be frank. Your village shouldn't be normal humans, right?”

The village chief's expression faltered upon hearing this. After a moment, he sighed, “You already knew?”

“For brave warriors of our level, we can distinguish differences between species just by their scent. Besides, your village has declined a lot, and the villagers can't conceal the faint aura of their own bloodline.”

Li Ang said calmly, “However, I only finally confirmed it during the diagnosis just now.

The race to which your village belongs should be some kind of Dark Kin, who feed on living beings.”

The village chief's facial expression changed, and he sighed, “Please don't use the Dark Kin's pretentious statement, sir. We know our own situation best.

We're just a group of ghouls who devour corpses.”

Ghouls?

Except for Hohenheim, the other players' expressions faltered. David frowned, and Amberley re-examined the village chief, clicking his tongue, quite surprised.

These players belonging to large organizations actually carried detection equipment and props.

Although they weren't like the Kui Niu mecha, which could scan all kinds of species and substances recorded in the Otherworld Society's database,

They were sufficient to cope with most situations in ordinary scenarios.

At least when a person walked over, they could distinguish whether the other party was human, or a Terminator or blood relative disguised as human.

In most occult definitions, blood relatives and ghouls have very large differences.

The former are cursed by the times, not favored by the gods, neither devils nor humans, who feed on blood and possess a series of extraordinary abilities, including but not limited to transforming into bats, flying and escaping, manipulating blood energy, rapid regeneration, immortality,

And they have a long history, a huge race, and rules and regulations for the family,

Everyone is handsome and beautiful, with their own fashion bonus.

The ghouls, who originated from Arab legends, are much more low-end.

They feed on dead human bodies, have ugly appearances, low intelligence, walk on all fours, and are similar to wild beasts. Except for being thick-skinned, they don't have any commendable supernatural powers.

In some occult scriptures, ghouls are even just slaves, loyal servants, and pets raised by blood relatives, responsible for clearing potential enemies or acting as cannon fodder to die.

In the eyes of Hohenheim and others, it's almost impossible to mistake these two creatures unless…

The village chief sighed quietly, explaining, “A long, long time ago, so long that no written records existed, our ancestors were probably just a group of the most barbaric and low-intelligent beasts.

Perhaps it was pure luck that they crossed the ocean and came to this land. As the first residents, they were called upon by the Holy Mountain.

The Holy Mountain accepted the ghoul race, and over the long years, used divine and unspeakable great power to transform that ghoul.

Making it transform from an ugly and ferocious beast, possessing wisdom, and transforming into human form.

Our ancestors deeply revered the Holy Mountain and were willing to live under the Holy Mountain for generations, establishing villages and never leaving.

At one point in time, one of our ancestors was said to have received a revelation from the Holy Mountain, revealing that the Holy Mountain possessed the ability to fulfill all wishes in the world, and that a team of adventurers would arrive on the island soon after.

That ancestor received the adventurers, watched them climb the snowy mountain, complete the trials, and finally realize their wishes,

And spread the greatness of the Holy Mountain to all parts of the world.

After that, it was the regular history—teams of brave warriors from all directions came to the Holy Mountain to accept trials,

Our village also became a world hub.

But, as you guessed, ghoul blood flows in our veins.”

The village chief sighed helplessly, saying, “The Holy Mountain taught and called upon us, but except for that ancestor, very few people have received the divine revelation of the Holy Mountain.

Before the brave warriors arrived, our village had always had a small population, maintained at the scale of a dozen households, relying on hunting wild beasts at the edge of the forest and eating their flesh and blood to maintain survival.

And after the brave warriors arrived, because of intermarriage and marriage alliances, the population of our village continued to increase, expanding from dozens of people to hundreds, and even thousands of people.”