Chapter 1336 — Treatment Plan

In the dim light of dawn, the enormous sky city floated among the clouds, towering buildings standing proudly upon steel-cast floating platforms, fleets of steel aircraft circling around the sky cities and weaving through the clouds and mist, while above these flying cities dragons soared. As the morning light gradually rose and the sun climbed from the distant horizon, darkness receded and the earth stretched out beneath his feet. It even gave him an illusion—the illusion that mortals had already risen to the height of the gods of old, looking down upon and ruling over all things...

But perhaps it was not an illusion after all. For the Cecil people, who had already completed the great feat of god-slaying and built a miraculous engineering creation like the Dawn of the Mortal World, they probably really did have the right to look down upon everything on this earth...

Chaotic thoughts rose and fell in this human king's mind. Perhaps the "healing field generator" beside the sickbed was having an effect, or perhaps the "holy elixir" the sister had given him two days ago still lingered in his system. He felt that his mind was producing more jumbled thoughts than ever before. Just then, an extremely vast shadow suddenly appeared outside the window and slowly moved deep within the clouds and mist.

It was the Dawn of the Mortal World, the "core mothership" of this "aerospace fortress battle group" and now the new nerve center of the entire Augurey defense line. The "medical ship" he was on, the two "war cathedrals" he had seen earlier, and several other aerial fortresses all belonged to the Dawn of the Mortal World's escort formation. Apart from the two war cathedrals already stationed at Fort Falm and this medical ship, every day aerial fortresses would detach from this formation and head to the southern and eastern battlefields—or rather, to carry out "purification and elimination."

Under the combined sweeping operations of these powerful and terrifying aerial war machines and the Cecil Expeditionary Army on the ground led by Duke Boyu Franklin, the vast occupied territories of the Augurey Tribal Nation were gradually being recovered, and the roaming mutant forces entrenched in the mountains and forests were being rapidly cleared out.

It was said that when the Dawn of the Mortal World also entered the battlefield once more, that would be the day the entire western front launched its great counteroffensive against the wasteland—and that day might not be far off.

Just then, footsteps and the sound of the door opening at the ward entrance suddenly interrupted Wycliffe's wandering thoughts. He snapped out of his daze and turned to look toward the sound.

He did not see the "physician" who had been caring for him these past days, nor the sister who had brought him here earlier—what appeared before him was a strange little old man.

He wore a researcher's short robe that looked rather dirty, as if he had just come out of a laboratory. His hair and beard were all white and looked as though they had not been tended for a long time. He was stooped, wore a grinning expression, and as for his air... although Wycliffe had always disliked judging strangers by appearance, frankly speaking, this little old man's air was very hard to associate with "dignity" or "composure"...

But Wycliffe knew that since the other man could appear here and move about the medical ship in such a slovenly outfit, he was definitely no ordinary person.

Facts proved this human king's judgment correct.

"Good morning, King Wycliffe—you look like you've recovered quite well," the little old man spoke, his tone cheerful and rising, his smile brilliant. "I am the person in charge of this medical ship. You may call me Piyun..."

Wycliffe was briefly stunned—he had guessed right. This really was no ordinary figure.

But he had not expected him to be this extraordinary.

The person in charge of this enormous aerial medical fortress was clearly worthy of respect. Wycliffe's expression immediately turned solemn, and he rose to greet him: "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Piyun—forgive me, my current condition may not allow for proper etiquette."

"It's fine, don't worry about it. My manners aren't exactly impeccable either," Piyun said at once with a wave of his hand. Then, with his other hand behind his back, he strolled unhurriedly to Wycliffe's sickbed and craned his neck to glance at the human king's empty right arm. "I just came to check on your condition—mainly to confirm how well your strength and energy have recovered."

"I feel much better already," Wycliffe said at once. "Thank you for the treatment your side has provided. Those potions and healing devices are all very effective."

"Good," Piyun nodded, reaching up to pinch the increasingly sparse beard on his chin. "Since your strength and energy have mostly recovered, it's time to consider the problem of that arm. With this kind of limb restoration treatment, the sooner the better. In short, I have two plans for you."

"The first plan is Flesh Regeneration. As the name suggests, it uses druidic techniques to make your limb regenerate directly—there will be several rounds of manual intervention and surgical adjustment along the way. The advantage of this plan is that the limb that finally regenerates will be almost indistinguishable from your original body, as if it had never been injured. The drawback is... the cycle is very long. Your new arm will require lengthy treatment and adjustment before it can grow out and reach a usable state, and the newly grown arm will certainly be much, much weaker than your original arm, which has undergone long training and magical adaptation. Your strength will be greatly diminished. A Transcendent growing an ordinary person's arm—the process is easy to understand."

"I rather recommend the second plan. It is a new technology we developed in cooperation with the mechanical engineering department: using magitech machinery, artificial nerve cords, and the like to build you a new arm directly. Sounds incredible? But it is indeed feasible. We can create a powerful steel limb for you."

"The advantage of this plan is speed. Building a prosthetic in the lab is far quicker than making you grow an arm of your own—we bolt the finished product on and you can use it on the spot, and all the time you need to spend is basically just the process of getting used to the new limb. Besides, this thing has some connection to the technology that came out of Tarronde, and it has very promising prospects. As long as the materials hold up, your new arm can itself be a formidable weapon—you can recover your strength in a very short time, and you can even return to the battlefield. Of course, it has its drawbacks. That thing is not your original flesh and blood, after all, so it may require..."

"I'll take the second option." Wycliffe cut off the little old man's prattling with a calm expression.

He seemed to have made up his mind long ago.

"Are you sure? Let me remind you, this thing can't just be swapped out at will—we have to do very complicated work on the 'interface.' Part of your nerves and bones will be replaced with implant interfaces, and changing them later won't be easy... Apart from those dragons in Tarronde who tinker with all sorts of implants in their bodies from birth, many of our people here still can't accept this."

"I understand, but my mind is made up," Wycliffe said gravely. "My kingdom and my people are caught in the flames of war. I have no time to lie in a sickbed and slowly accept 'treatment'—I need to return to the battlefield and organize a counteroffensive. Mr. Piyun, please restore me in the shortest time possible."

(End of this chapter)