Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world-Chapter 121: Change of composure

The laughter didn't stop.

In fact—

It grew louder.

At first, it was just snickers and chuckles.

Then it evolved into outright guffaws.

Then it became roaring, howling laughter that echoed through the entire hall.

"Hahaha! Look at him! He actually said it with a straight face!"

"Does he think we're idiots?!"

"Optimizing medicinal properties?! Creating perfect breeding conditions?! What is he, a celestial beast reborn?!"

"I swear, I've never seen someone talk so much nonsense and still act serious!"

"This is a new level of shamelessness!"

Even the weakest breeder disciples, the ones usually ignored, were pointing and laughing.

Even the serious, no-nonsense elders were suppressing their smirks.

Even some of the spirit beasts lurking nearby twitched their ears in confusion.

The only ones not laughing—

Were Elder Fan Ming.

And Zou Fang himself.

Elder Fan Ming studied Zou Fang.

His eyes held an undisguised amusement.

But deep within them—

There was also a flicker of curiosity.

And then—

He smirked.

"Alright then," Elder Fan Ming said, raising his voice over the noise. "Since you're so confident…"

He reached into his sleeve—

And pulled out a worn, ancient-looking scroll.

The disciples fell silent.

They recognized that scroll.

It was one of Elder Fan Ming's unfinished beast feed formulas—

One that had stumped even experienced breeders.

He unfolded it.

"You say you can optimize breeding efficiency? That you can improve diets?" Elder Fan Ming's voice was mocking, yet intrigued. "Well then, take a look at this."

He tossed the scroll onto the table.

The pages fluttered open.

"This," Elder Fan Ming said, "is an incomplete beast feed recipe. It was designed for high-tier spiritual beasts, but no matter what I do, I can't perfect it. There's always something missing."

His lips curled in a smug smile.

"You claim to be a master of optimization, right? You say you can refine formulas, right? Then why don't you—"

His eyes glinted.

"—fix this first?"

The hall erupted into noise again.

"Hah! Elder Fan Ming is ruthless!"

"This is one of his most troublesome formulas! Even high-ranking breeders couldn't perfect it!"

"There's no way this guy can fix it!"

"This is going to be hilarious!"

Everyone waited eagerly to see Zou Fang squirm.

They wanted to see him panic.

They wanted to see him make excuses.

They wanted to see him fail.

But instead—

Zou Fang just picked up the scroll.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't react.

He just—

studied it.

The room fell into an eerie silence.

Seconds ticked by.

A minute passed.

Then another.

At first, the disciples kept laughing.

"What, is he frozen? Did he finally realize he's out of his league?"

"Look at him! He's not saying anything! He's just staring at the scroll!"

"Maybe he doesn't even understand the words!"

More laughter followed.

But Zou Fang ignored it.

He was completely, utterly focused.

Inside his Spiritual Sea of Consciousness—

Wei Long was also silent.

Because what he saw in the scroll—

Was actually interesting.

"Hmm…" Wei Long hummed.

Zou Fang narrowed his eyes.

The recipe itself was solid—

The structure was good, the base ingredients were correct, and the logic made sense.

But—

There were gaps.

Crucial mistakes.

Missing connections.

It was like trying to bake a cake—

But leaving out the eggs, the sugar, and the exact oven temperature.

"No wonder he couldn't perfect it," Zou Fang thought.

"He's close, but he's missing the essential catalyst."

"Should we fix it?" Wei Long asked, grinning.

"Of course." Zou Fang's lips curled up slightly.

And then—

He reached for the pen and ink.

The laughter continued behind him.

But Zou Fang didn't care.

He dipped the pen into the ink.

And he started writing.

At first, the disciples didn't notice.

They were too busy mocking him.

"Maybe he's drawing pictures instead!"

"Or writing his last will!"

"Maybe he's just scribbling nonsense!"

But then—

Someone stopped laughing.

Then another.

And another.

Because the moment Zou Fang started writing…

He didn't hesitate.

There was no pause.

No moment of uncertainty.

His hand moved smoothly.

As if he already knew exactly what was wrong.

The disciples watched in growing confusion.

"Wait… he actually looks serious."

"What is he doing…?"

Even Elder Fan Ming's smirk started to fade.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

Zou Fang kept writing.

He adjusted ingredient ratios.

Modified nutrient balance.

Tweaked energy infusion pathways.

Perfected the catalyst ratio.

Everything flowed naturally.

Inside his Spiritual Sea of Consciousness, Wei Long was grinning.

"Good, good! Just like that!"

Zou Fang finished writing.

He set down the pen.

And then—

He looked up.

The hall was completely silent.

Everyone was staring at him.

Zou Fang held out the scroll.

His voice was calm.

Steady.

Confident.

"Here you go."

The room held its breath.

Elder Fan Ming's reaction was immediate.

"Impossible!" he snapped. His voice was so sharp that it startled the breeder disciples around him. Some even flinched.

His glare bore into Zou Fang like he had just committed blasphemy.

"That recipe—" Fan Ming snarled, his eyes blazing. "—was created by an absolute moron! It wasn't even my work! Some fool from centuries ago came up with this nonsense! It was never supposed to be completed!"

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His voice boomed across the hall.

The disciples exchanged confused looks.

"What does he mean? It wasn't his?"

"Then why was he using it?"

"Wait… why is he so angry? Shouldn't he be happy if it's finally complete?"

Elder Fan Ming ignored them all. His face twisted as if he had just bitten into something sour.

And then—

He snapped his fingers.

A faint glow shimmered in the air—

And a memory jade appeared in his palm.

With a wave of his hand, images flickered into existence.

A scene played out before everyone's eyes—

A younger Elder Fan Ming stood in a ruined archive, surrounded by moldy scrolls and dust-covered books.

"This was years ago," Elder Fan Ming growled, pointing at the memory. "I was searching for lost techniques, forgotten knowledge—anything that could advance my research on beast feeds!"

The scene shifted—

The younger Fan Ming picked up a tattered scroll from a pile of discarded texts.

It was old.

Ancient.

Its ink was faded, its edges burnt, its words barely legible.

"And this is what I found," Elder Fan Ming sneered. "A broken, incomplete recipe. A recipe so riddled with errors and gaps that even a first-year breeder disciple would laugh at it!"

The disciples stared in shock.

"Wait, so it really was useless?"

"Then why did he keep it?"

The memory continued—

The younger Fan Ming, after reading the recipe, had scoffed, crumpled it up, and threw it aside.

But then—

He hesitated.

His fingers twitched.

His eyes narrowed.

And instead of leaving it behind—

He picked it back up.

"It was garbage," Elder Fan Ming admitted. "But there was something about it… a strange structure, an unusual logic that I couldn't ignore."

The scene faded.

Elder Fan Ming lowered his hand and the memory jade disappeared.

His piercing gaze locked onto Zou Fang.

"And now, you're telling me—" he growled, his voice dangerously low—

"—that a mere brat like you managed to complete something that has remained unsolvable for generations?!"

The disciples held their breath.

Zou Fang—

Snickered.

He didn't look intimidated.

Didn't look scared.

Didn't even seem bothered by Fan Ming's outburst.

"Old man," Zou Fang drawled, leaning forward. "It doesn't matter if the recipe was made by an idiot. It doesn't matter if it was useless. It doesn't even matter if you spent decades trying to figure it out."

His lips curled into a smug grin.

"Because if I fix it—then it's fixed."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Even the other elders watching in the background widened their eyes.

Zou Fang wasn't backing down.

He tapped the scroll lightly.

"Look at it again, old man," Zou Fang said. "Tell me exactly where I went wrong. Tell me what part of my adjustments don't make sense. Tell me, right now, why it won't work."

Elder Fan Ming laughed.

Not a chuckle.

Not a scoff.

But a full, deep, belly laugh.

The kind that carried a hint of mockery.

"Alright then!" he said, snatching up the scroll. "Let's see what kind of nonsense you wrote!"

He unrolled the parchment and began to read.

At first—

He was grinning.

"Hah! What is this ridiculous ratio? This makes no—"

Then, his grin wavered.

His eyes flickered across the page faster.

His laughter died down.

"Wait…" he muttered.

His brow furrowed.

His amusement vanished.

The hall fell deathly silent.

The disciples stared in confusion.

"What's wrong? He was mocking it just a second ago!"

"Why is he getting serious all of a sudden?"

"Wait… could it be…?"

Elder Fan Ming's grip on the scroll tightened.

His breathing slowed.

His expression darkened.

"This…" he whispered.

Line by line, he analyzed Zou Fang's adjustments.

At first glance, it seemed too simplistic.

Too obvious.

But the more he read—

The more he realized—

It wasn't just a fix.

It was a reconstruction.

Zou Fang hadn't just filled in missing pieces.

He had refined the entire structure.

Balanced the spiritual energy intake.

Optimized the nutrient absorption process.

Corrected ingredient conflicts that Fan Ming himself had never noticed.

It wasn't just correct.

It was perfect.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

"This… this actually…"

He clenched his jaw.

He couldn't deny it.

He couldn't find a flaw.

And that realization sent a chill down his spine.

Zou Fang smirked.

"What's wrong, old man?" he asked, voice teasing. "Your composure changed."

His grin surfaces and his eyes locked in elder Fan Ming with a smug expreddion.