This Spiritual Energy is Lethal!-Chapter 169 - Creating a God

Chapter 169: Chapter 169: Creating a God

Chapter 169: Chapter 169: Creating a God

In a pitch-black study, a faint blue halo emanated from a corner. Corrigan squatted alone between the bookshelf and the wall, holding the Symbiotic Stone in his hand.

The light emitted from the stone pulsed as if it were breathing, brightening and dimming, incredibly dreamlike. It could replace depleted organs in the human body, cheating death, allowing Corrigan to continue living.

Corrigan caressed his shriveled forehead, following the wrinkled, bark-like grooves, and touched the old Symbiotic Stone embedded in his forehead.

That stone no longer possessed a blue halo but was pitch-black like charcoal.

His dry, branch-like fingers slowly moved to the stone on his forehead, tentatively caressed it, and then grasped it firmly.

After brewing for some time, Corrigan started to rock the stone back and forth, the friction with his skull producing a creaking noise.

The stone had been embedded in his forehead for so long that it had fused with Corrigan’s body.

After shaking it for a while, the stone finally showed signs of loosening.

With force, Corrigan wrenched the black Symbiotic Stone from his head.

The stone rolled onto the floor, emitted one last gleam of blue light, and then shattered into a pile of black powder.

Only a three-finger-wide cavity remained on Corrigan’s forehead.

Dim blue light emitted from the cavity, and internally there were glowing blue veins, but they were gradually fading.

Corrigan gasped heavily, inserting the new Symbiotic Stone into the cavity in his forehead.

The blue glow of the stone dimmed significantly, as its power swiftly replenished Corrigan’s desperately needed energy.

Corrigan’s body also began to change.

His parched, bark-like skin slowly returned to that of a normal elderly man, and his face also began to look human.

The transformation continued for five minutes, Corrigan slowly stood up, his hooded cloak slipping off, he turned around, walked to the desk and turned on the lamp.

The warm orange light filled the entire study, Corrigan wrapped the black stone powder from the floor in paper and tossed it into the trash bin.

At that moment, he was no longer the monster hiding in the darkness, but an old man in a suit with a lucid spirit, of course, if you could ignore the stone embedded in his head.

His bald head quickly grew silver hair, he glanced at the mirror on the desk, tidied up briefly, picked up the phone next to him, and dialed a number.

“Pankia, last night we lost many assassins, you should explain to me what exactly has happened recently…” he said indifferently.

“Grandfather… I can handle this,” came Pankia’s nervous voice.

Corrigan and Pankia were not related by blood; the term grandfather was merely a hierarchical title within Si’s consortium, similar to the Mafia’s godfather.

Not many within the consortium had seen Corrigan when he was still normal; he used to attend the company’s board meetings, but since he had extended his life through the Symbiotic Stone, he no longer appeared in public.

Corrigan’s full name was Corrigan Strong, and Si’s consortium was actually the Strong family consortium. However, Corrigan had no offspring, so the consortium remained under his control.

He used the miraculous stone to extend his life, and then supported a proxy to control the company.

As the years passed, Corrigan’s business partners and associates had long since passed away, he had resorted to unscrupulous means to forcibly acquire their shares.

“Grandfather… I can handle this matter,” Pankia assured.

“No, I do not doubt you, I just want to know what happened while I was away that caused you to mobilize so many assassins,” Corrigan stated gravely.

“I… grandfather… I…,” Pankia stood at his own desk, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

From Pankia’s voice, Corrigan sensed his unease, and as a pawn in his scheme, Corrigan could not tolerate incompetence or failure.

“Tell me, Pankia, what have you messed up?” Corrigan asked.

“I… one of our assassins lost control… I feared he would jeopardize our operation…” Pankia tried to explain.

“I see, Pankia, I see… I will find someone else to deal with this… You have done very well, you should take a break,” Corrigan said.

“I…” Pankia heard the word “rest” and felt something inside him break with a crash.

“Don’t say anymore, Pankia, take a long vacation, you’ve earned it,” Corrigan said and then hung up the phone.

Pankia knew what a vacation meant: some boats are one-way tickets, and if the captain wants to remove your name, there’s no way you can wait until the ship docks.

Meanwhile, in a top-floor conference room in a building located in the Raffi Road District of Opportunity City, a secret meeting was taking place.

This conference room was made of special materials that completely blocked sound and were impervious to any technological means of penetration; it could also be directly accessed by a private elevator.

In the center of the room was a black stone circular table surrounded by twelve chairs carved from white jade. A hand with fingers spread was depicted in the center of the table, with an open eye in the palm.

Twelve impeccably-dressed business tycoons from various countries sat around the table, each was the CEO of a Spiritual Business, all differing in skin color but without exception.

“So, shall we begin?” a brown-skinned CEO spoke up.

Everyone remained silent, signifying their consent.

“I presume everyone has received the news… Lu Xiao, Punkser, and Matt, all dead,” the brown-skinned CEO said.

Everyone nodded; no one seemed shocked.

“As far as I know, Lu Xiao jumped from the rooftop of his own company building that night,” someone commented.

“Yes, the media under my control has managed to shape the narrative, now everyone believes he merely couldn’t withstand the business pressures and committed suicide,” a white-skinned CEO took over.

“Lu Xiao was trying to sell his company to individuals from the Fei Huang Republic, which we cannot tolerate. Moreover, it seems he had ties with another organization—I suspect it involves Transcendent matters,” the brown-skinned CEO remarked.

“The Fei Huang Republic doesn’t allow private enterprises to deal in Spiritual Energy, but this doesn’t mean their businessmen won’t come to our side. In fact, the applications of Spiritual Energy in both military and civilian fields have not yet been fully explored. What we currently hold must be kept blocked from the Fei Huang Republic,” another CEO stated.

Heads around the table nodded in agreement.

“What about Punkser and Matt? Were they also doing business with the Fei Huang Republic?” someone asked.

“Correct, both Punkser and Matt wanted out of their companies. Punkser has had long dealings with someone surnamed Li from the Fei Huang Republic, and I suspect that person already knows about our existence…” the brown-skinned CEO replied.

Others exchanged glances, expressing shock.

“Matt misappropriated an extraordinary item we found and tried to hide, which is far worse than Punkser’s case,” the brown-skinned CEO added.

“He used it… that thing? Now he can even transmit memes…” someone murmured in awe.

“I’ve sent an Assassin, and they’ve both been dealt with,” the brown-skinned CEO stated.

“Very cleanly. Punkser died in his own villa and Matt died in the Holy Mother Angel Hotel in Opportunity City. Once the target was confirmed dead, the clean-up team moved in,” a white CEO added.

“As far as I know, more consortia are preparing to engage with people from the Fei Huang Republic, and apparently, it’s the same person, seemingly surnamed Li,” a Black CEO mentioned.

“If he just wants to do simple business… no, even that won’t work. We can’t allow them to possess our technology and knowledge,” the white CEO contemplated seriously.

All present nodded.

“Of course, this meeting isn’t just to pass on the news about how we dealt with the traitors, but there’s a more important matter,” the brown-skinned CEO paused, then continued: “We’ve decided to establish our own Spiritual Energy Research Institute.”

Everyone looked at each other, somewhat surprised.

“We’ve tried this before, but most of the spiritual experts were just swindlers,” someone objected.

“In the past, the way we sought people and the directions we took were fundamentally flawed when we established the institute, aiming to find the best researchers across the federation,” the white CEO explained.

“The best people often don’t care about money,” the Black CEO spread his hands.

“Exactly, those who are motivated by money usually don’t possess great abilities,” the white CEO agreed.

“This time is different, we’ve found a Spiritual Energy researcher whose ideology and goals align with ours; he’s no longer satisfied with researching in a shiny laboratory forever without ever using his findings,” the brown-skinned CEO added.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

“What does he want?” someone asked.

“Like us, he wants to create gods,” the brown-skinned CEO answered.