Chapter 133: Demon Suppressing Pills

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Lynn's statement hung heavily in the air, and silence descended upon the room. He carefully observed the butler and the client's reactions as he revealed that he knew the true nature of this condition.

Alfred's eyes immediately narrowed sharply, his previously calm facade cracking for a brief moment. The old gentleman, however, simply raised an eyebrow, displaying a mix of surprise and curiosity.

His cloudy eyes lit up, their corners creasing as he smiled and stared at the old steward. "Look, this young man still knows something," he remarked, a tinge of excitement creeping into his weary tone.

The master struggled to get up from the couch. Seeing this, Alfred immediately moved to support him, grasping one arm firmly yet gently. Lynn also reacted quickly, rushing to lend aid on the other side.

Without hesitation, the man's gnarled fingers slowly moved to the front of his robe. With some difficulty, he managed to undo the knot keeping it closed around his slender frame.

As the garment slipped open, it unveiled the upper half of his weak body. Certain areas were tightly wrapped in bandages, and the places that were not covered revealed dark and wrinkled skin.

Lynn's eyes widened at the sight before him, a mixture of shock and fascination washing over him. A faint yet unmistakable rotten odor wafted up from the location of the white wraps, indicating the skin was still actively rotting and decaying beneath.

When he first entered this room, he had already detected a strong perfume emanating from the old man. At the time, he thought it was just used to cover the unpleasant smell of body odor.

However, now that he had witnessed firsthand the extent of necrosis plaguing the flesh, another explanation seemed more likely. The fragrance was probably intended to mask the stench of decay.

He imagined that without such camouflage, the smell of putrefaction would be overpowering. Especially since the chest and back were practically covered with the dark, deadened tissue.

Lynn was surprised this man had managed to endure contamination of this magnitude without succumbing completely. Such high intensity of spiritual pollution should normally have triggered a mutation.

"I won't take off the pants, the pollution on the legs is not as bad as the upper body," said the elderly master shuddering slightly. Though he tried to appear strong, his body betrayed the toll of his condition.

"Your life is really tough," Lynn said sincerely, shaking his head as he took in the severity of the situation. "Many would have already mutated or perished long ago enduring something like this."

"Hahahahaha, tough life? This is something I love to hear. If there's one thing I can rely on to survive to this point, it's that I'm tougher than others," the old man laughed heartily.

But suddenly, his body trembled violently, as if his laughter had left him breathless. His expression quickly shifted from joy to a grimace of discomfort, one weak hand clutched at his chest.

"Medicine...quickly...give me medicine..." he rasped weakly between pained gasps. Fortunately, Alfred was always prepared for such a situation. He had his master's medicine at the ready.

Reacting swiftly, he produced a small leather box from his inner pocket and unclasped it. Inside was an array of various medications and tonics. These were the old man's usual prescriptions.

Selecting quickly through them, he grabbed two pills, one was jet black while the other shone a vibrant yellow. Then, he secured the dying patient's jaw and slipped it into his mouth.

"Swallow, sir, swallow," the steward urged in an unsteady voice, gently massaging the man's throat to stimulate his reflexes. With great effort, he managed to force the medicine down.

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