Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world

Elder Fan Ming stepped forward, his expression composed but his eyes gleaming with an unreadable light. Despite having lost control of the situation to Elder Fu, he wasn't about to let himself be completely sidelined.

"Since Elder Fu is the one making it, I shall instruct him accordingly," Elder Fan Ming announced, his voice smooth, respectful, and filled with the authority of an experienced breeder.

Elder Fu raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Then—

Elder Fan Ming clapped his hands.

The entire hall changed.

Disciples who had been standing idly were suddenly given tasks. Materials were brought in. Tools were prepared. The very air thickened with anticipation.

"Bring out the feed-making cauldron," Elder Fan Ming commanded.

Two disciples hurried away and returned moments later, struggling to carry an enormous, deep-black cauldron with golden inscriptions covering its surface. This was no ordinary cauldron—this was a tool used only for high-level feed production, reserved for the greatest beastmasters of the sect.

The younger disciples gasped.

"They're actually using that?!"

"That's a divine cauldron! Only the best can use it!"

"I've only seen it once before, during the Grand Beast Breeding Competition!"

Elder Fu remained silent as the cauldron was placed before him.

Elder Fan Ming continued.

"Next, prepare the powdered core essence of a Level 5 Earthscale Beast. It must be finely ground, no larger than a grain of sand."

More disciples rushed to complete the task. The air filled with the scent of rare beast materials as they worked tirelessly under Elder Fan Ming's gaze.

"Now, the Verdant Flow Leaves. They must be cut precisely into strips no longer than three inches, or their medicinal properties will be wasted."

Disciples with steady hands began precisely slicing the dark green leaves, their movements controlled and deliberate. The scent of fresh herbs mixed with the potent energy of the beast core powder.

"Next, you must prepare the base liquid," Elder Fan Ming continued, his voice unwavering.

He glanced at Elder Fu.

"For this, you must use a controlled flame—too hot, and the ingredients will burn. Too cold, and they will not properly fuse. You are skilled enough for this, are you not, Elder Fu?"

Elder Fu smirked but said nothing.

The flame was lit.

A deep blue fire, steady yet flickering, bloomed beneath the cauldron.

Elder Fu controlled it flawlessly.

The disciples watched in awe.

They were seeing a legendary sight—two masters at work, one guiding, one executing, both showcasing a level of expertise that made the younger generation tremble.

Elder Fan Ming continued his ethereal instructions.

"Once the base liquid reaches the correct temperature, you must stir it in a circular motion—never breaking the rhythm, never stopping. The key is consistency. Only then will the medicinal properties be fully drawn out."

"Now, the beast core powder must be added, little by little, allowing it to dissolve evenly. If you dump it in too quickly, it will clump, ruining the entire batch."

Elder Fu, despite Fan Ming's instructions, was deeply impressed.

Fan Ming's voice carried such clarity, such confidence, that even he—an experienced elder—felt as though he was learning something new.

And the disciples?

They were entranced.

Every word Fan Ming spoke was like divine law.

The process unfolded before them like a sacred ritual.

Each step built upon the last, like layers of a grand formation, coming together seamlessly.

"Next, the Verdant Flow Leaves. They must be added precisely at this moment, when the liquid is at its peak concentration. If done correctly, the essence will infuse into the base, amplifying its effects."

Elder Fu followed the steps perfectly.

The liquid began to change.

A soft golden glow spread through the mixture.

The disciples gasped.

"It's working!"

"I've never seen feed-making at this level!"

"This is true mastery!"

Elder Fan Ming continued.

"Finally, the last step. The key to this entire recipe—the Fusion Condensation Technique."

Silence fell.

Even Elder Fu's expression shifted slightly.

The Fusion Condensation Technique was an extremely difficult method, used only in the highest levels of feed crafting. Even among elders, very few could perform it flawlessly.

Elder Fan Ming's eyes gleamed.

"You must circulate your energy through the cauldron, guiding the feed as it takes its final form. If your control wavers for even a moment, the entire batch will be ruined."

Elder Fu's eyes narrowed.

But—

He didn't hesitate.

His hands moved, his energy flowed, and—

The cauldron trembled.

The golden glow deepened—turning from soft gold to a radiant, pulsating brilliance.

The disciples held their breath.

And then—

With one final surge of energy, Elder Fu sealed the feed.

The pill was complete.

—

The hall was silent.

The golden feed pill sat there, gleaming in the light.

Elder Fan Ming and Elder Fu both stared at it.

The disciples stared at it.

Even Zou Fang was momentarily speechless.

And then—

Angola stepped forward.

The once-proud beast, now battered, now desperate, looked at the golden pill.

It trembled.

And then—

It opened its mouth—

And ate it.

—

The moment the pill touched Angola's tongue, it shuddered.

A slow, deep warmth spread through its body.

The taste—

It was unlike anything Angola had ever consumed before.

It was rich.

Savory.

It carried a depth of flavor that spoke not just of nourishment, but of power.

Angola's eyes widened.

It wasn't just food.

It was energy.

Pure, refined, concentrated energy—something that seemed to seep into every corner of its being, something that filled every fiber of its muscles, every inch of its bones.

The sensation was intoxicating.

For the first time in its life, Angola felt its body changing.

It wasn't just eating.

It was absorbing.

It was growing.

And then—

The room held its breath.

Every disciple, every elder—

They all had the same question.

What will happen now?

Angola stood there, the golden pill already consumed, its massive body still. The atmosphere in the hall remained thick with anticipation—so thick that it felt as if time itself had slowed.

At first, Angola didn't feel anything.

The beast's breathing remained steady, its posture unchanged, and its expression was one of passive expectation. The disciples, the elders, and even Zou Fang all watched in utter silence, waiting for something to happen.

And then—

The change began.

At first, it was subtle.

A faint tremor ran through Angola's legs, barely perceptible.

Its large, muscular frame tensed ever so slightly, a small shiver rippling across its tough hide. Its eyes blinked a few times as if adjusting to something—something deep, something internal.

The tremor spread.

Angola's ears twitched.

Its breathing hitched.

Its muscles twitched sporadically, like faint ripples disturbing the surface of an otherwise calm lake.

Still, there was no visible pain.

No agony.

Only an odd, creeping sensation that slowly crawled through the beast's body, spreading through its limbs, its chest, its core—

And then—

Angola's pupils dilated.

The beast staggered.

It was brief, almost unnoticeable, but to those observing carefully, it was a crack in the foundation.

The disciples gasped.

Elder Fan Ming frowned.

Zou Fang narrowed his eyes.

Elder Fu, who had been watching silently, took a step forward.

But then—

Angola let out a slow, shuddering breath.

It wasn't pain.

Not yet.

It was a strange, overwhelming pressure.

The beast clenched its jaw, nostrils flaring as a surge of something unfamiliar coursed through its veins. Its body quivered, its muscles expanding and contracting, a storm of energy swirling within—

And then, all at once—

The expression changed.

The initial moment of unfamiliarity gave way to discomfort.

Then discomfort turned into something worse.

Angola's golden eyes widened as a sudden, jarring sensation tore through its insides.

Its breathing became ragged.

Its powerful limbs trembled.

The beast wobbled on its feet, its entire frame beginning to shake.

The golden glow surrounding its body, once bright and promising, now seemed twisted—as if something inside was breaking apart, crumbling.

Angola let out a deep, guttural growl.

Then—

It screamed.

—

Inside Zou Fang's spiritual sea of consciousness, Wei Long laughed.

He knew this would happen.

From the very moment that Elder Fan Ming had taken control of the feed-making process, from the very moment he had dared to guide Elder Fu, he had predicted this exact outcome.

"Hah!" Wei Long sneered, his voice filled with mockery and satisfaction.

"What did I say, Zou Fang? What did I tell you? These old bastards—every single one of them—are greedy."

Zou Fang, standing in the sea of consciousness, remained silent, his eyes glued to Wei Long.

Wei Long smirked, shaking his head.

"Elder Fu is already a greedy bastard. You think Elder Fan Ming would be any different? No. He saw the recipe I created, and he thought, 'Oh, I can copy this. I can improve it. I can make it mine.'"

Wei Long snickered.

"Idiot.* Complete idiot.**"*

His gaze turned sharp, filled with an undeniable certainty.

"The moment I Bio-engineered that recipe, I ensured it was perfect. Every component, every ratio, every fusion method—it was all precisely designed for maximum effectiveness. But if someone else tries to replicate it? If someone modifies it without truly understanding its structure? It will fall apart."

Wei Long's expression turned into a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

"And guess what? That's exactly what Elder Fan Ming did."

Zou Fang finally spoke.

"You mean—"

"Yes." Wei Long grinned wider. "That old fool thought he could do better. He changed something. He tampered with my formula. And now?"

He gestured outward.

"Now, look at Angola. Look at the consequences."

—

Outside, in the hall—

Angola collapsed.

A massive, deafening thud echoed through the chamber as the beast's knees gave out, its body slamming against the stone floor.

The disciples screamed.

Some took several steps back.

Others gripped their robes, fearful, unsure of what was happening.

"What's going on?!"

"Why is it reacting like this?! Shouldn't the pill help it?"

"It's supposed to increase cultivation, not—this!"

Angola writhed on the ground, its body convulsing violently.

The golden glow that had once surrounded it was now unstable, flickering—

Like a flame struggling to survive in a storm.

Elder Fan Ming's face twisted.

His hands clenched.

His mind raced.

"This… This shouldn't be happening!"

He had been so sure—so confident in his modifications! He had carefully adjusted the ratios, fine-tuned the process, ensured that his version of the formula was more suitable for mass production!

But now—

Now, Angola was suffering.

And worse—

Everyone was watching.

—

Angola's body contorted.

The pain was now unbearable.

The energy within it had turned from pure nourishment to unrefined chaos.

It was trying to evolve.

Trying to break through.

But something was wrong.

Something was missing.

And so—

Instead of progressing—

It was tearing itself apart.

The agony spread.

It clawed at Angola's insides, ravaging its very core.

It let out another screech—

A sound filled with raw suffering, shaking the very air, echoing through the hall like a desperate plea for release.

Its claws scraped against the stone.

Its body twisted.

Its eyes—**once fierce, now filled with horror—**darted around, seeking help, seeking salvation, seeking—

Someone.

Anyone.

But—

No one moved.

No one dared.

The fear was too strong.

The uncertainty too overwhelming.

And then—

Angola gasped.

It was still alive.

But barely.

It was hanging on.

Trapped between life and death—caught in the failure of a formula that was never meant to be altered.

And everyone in the hall—

From the youngest disciple to the oldest elder—

Realized the truth.