Chapter 676 - 72: Biological Neuroscience

Chapter 676: Chapter 72: Biological Neuroscience

"I don’t," Saladin said bluntly.

His voice was adamant. There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation in his golden, slitted pupils as he spoke, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Murphy’s slitted pupils reflected Saladin’s stubborn, scale-covered face. His lips pulled back in a grin, revealing a row of sharp dragon teeth. "Good boys don’t lie."

’Good boy?’

Saladin had drunk Divine Blood three thousand years ago. Back when he was charging into the fray under Orestes, this modern Wizard’s great-great-great-grandfather had probably not even climbed down from the trees yet.

But he didn’t say it out loud, merely snorting coldly. "It’s the truth. I was severely injured three thousand years ago and have been slumbering ever since. I know nothing of recent events. Information about my companions? Even if I did know anything, it would be from three thousand years ago. What use is that now?"

He had been captured by Wizards three thousand years ago and had, in fact, revealed a great deal.

But he wasn’t afraid.

In the years that followed, the Wizards had made little progress with the information they’d obtained.

The bloodline inheritance of the world of Kronos was not so easily deciphered.

Even if you stripped Saladin of every scale, disassembled his skeleton, and placed every inch of his flesh and blood under a microscope, you could not become him.

The Wizards of three thousand years ago couldn’t do it.

And the Wizards of today—he had thought they couldn’t do it either.

But the young man before him had done it.

’No, he hadn’t just done it. He had surpassed it.’

To manifest seven different mythical forms in such a short time, each as perfect as a Warrior who had spent half a lifetime honing their craft... Even three thousand years ago, in Saladin’s own time—an age when they freely drank Divine Blood and geniuses were a dime a dozen—no one had ever achieved such a feat so quickly.

His gaze drifted unwittingly to the unconscious Mira nearby.

Though their bloodline was now distant, the essence flowing within her veins was unmistakable. She was his descendant.

He had a good idea of what was happening—this land was being invaded.

Otherwise, a descendant with such a potent bloodline—one destined to enter the Legendary Hero Realm—would never have resorted to fighting with the remains of an ancestor.

Even if it was part of their legacy, a tradition forged to fight off invaders, it was a method never to be used except in the most desperate of circumstances.

After all, ancient legends of the underworld warned that desecrating an ancestor’s corpse would deny their spirit eternal rest.

Clearly, things had now reached a point where they had no other choice.

And not only that, but such a terrifying young Wizard had also appeared.

If he were to enter the battlefield with this terrifying rate of progress and spread his knowledge throughout the Wizard World, which way would the scales of war tip?

Saladin didn’t dare to imagine it.

Besides, he was telling the truth.

He truly didn’t know.

Three thousand years of slumber was long enough for mountains to move and rivers to change their course. It was long enough for the old brothers-in-arms who once fought beside him to have turned to dust and bone.

Even if a few were still alive, slumbering in different locations, how would he know where to find them?

Murphy smiled.

It was a faint smile, almost imperceptible on the great dragon’s scaled face. In fact, any creature other than a dragon would have had no idea it was a smile at all.

Just as it is difficult for humans to read the expressions of animals.

But Saladin, of course, knew.

To him, that smile sent a colder chill down his spine than the Sword Qi that had previously torn through heaven and earth.

Then, a massive dragon claw lifted.

Its Dark Gold scales gleamed coldly in the moonlight. The five talons spread wide, its palm aimed at Saladin’s head.

Saladin’s pupils contracted violently. "What are you doing—"

Before he could finish, the dragon’s claw closed around his entire head.

Saladin’s body tensed instinctively.

His dismembered limbs, still pinned to the ground, twitched in unison. Muscles bulged beneath his skin before going slack again.

He tried to move, but his neck was pinned fast by the Crimson sword, making it impossible to even turn his head.

The power contained within the blade seared his entire body, shackling both his will and his strength.

Then, Saladin felt a warm, faintly vibrating power pour in from the crown of his head. It felt as if someone had drilled a hole in his skull and was pouring warm water inside.

He realized it instantly—’Murphy is reading my memories.’

’But this technique is bizarre, completely different from any Wizard method I’ve ever encountered.’

’Those Wizards would either extract one’s soul or directly manipulate the mind to force a confession. Never like this... I can’t even tell what he’s doing.’

Saladin was terrified, but utterly helpless.

Of course, this wasn’t a Cultivator’s technique, either.

Although Murphy was on the path of Cultivation, he unfortunately knew only a handful of related Magic.

To date, he hadn’t developed any decent Cultivation spells of his own, either.

After all, he was simply too busy. Back in the Old Realm, he had been constantly focused on advancing his realm and resolving issues like the Dao Transformation.

Where would he find the time to develop a broad repertoire of Magic befitting a Cultivator?

So, this was a biophysical method from the Ming World.

By deciphering the information within Saladin’s flesh and blood, Murphy had taken a decisive step forward in the subfield of neurobiology.

He no longer needed to pry open someone’s mind with Spiritual Power like a Wizard, nor did he need to use Magic to search their soul. He didn’t even need environmental or contextual suggestions.

He only needed to understand the firing patterns of neurons, the way memories were stored in neural networks, and the pathways those electrical signals traveled between axons and dendrites. Then, he could use his Mana to simulate those same signals.

The principle, in theory, was simple.

Every thought, every memory, and every emotion in a living creature is, in essence, the transmission of electrical signals between neurons. These signals cycle through fixed neural networks. Each cycle strengthens the pathway, and over time, this becomes a "memory."