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In a room filled with the pungent smell of preservatives, an old man with a silver beard that reached his knees sat on a worn-out root-carved wooden chair, flipping through the papers on the table and making notes.

Rachel and Sabrina followed the servants and stood behind the old man.

The former lowered his head, waiting respectfully for the old man to speak, while the latter gripped the dagger in his arms with a wary expression.

After writing down the last letter on the paper, the old man sighed softly, took off his crystal glasses, and turned to look at the two visitors.

“Richie, you always like to leave without saying goodbye, and you always like to show up suddenly.” Iliad twisted his aching back and looked at the woman in front of him with gentle eyes: “Before you exhaust my patience, you had better explain your purpose.”

Rachel didn't speak, but instead took out a brand-new printed book from her pocket and gently placed it on the table.

Elijah picked up the book, casually flipped through it, and was surprised by the neat handwriting and orderly layout.

"Is this the printing technique of Twilight City?" After receiving Rachel's affirmative answer, Eliard touched the faint marks on the paper and said, "Unlike the woodblock printing in the south, Twilight City uses movable type blocks. A bunch of clever guys, interesting."

Seeing Iliad's expression, Rachel breathed a slight sigh of relief, then said, "Elder, please turn to the title page and see who the author of this book is?"

Elijah put his glasses back on and turned to the title page as instructed. A familiar name caught his eye, making him smile.

"That old geezer Terence, not only is he not dead, but he still has the energy to write a book?"

The smile on the old man's face finally put Rachel completely at ease.

"Let me see what this old guy has written about the molecular theory of the microscopic world. What is this thing?"

Eliard frowned as he looked at a few pages, put the book down, and asked Rachel, "Was this book really written by Terence?"

Rachel smiled and said, "Elder, do you think I would try to fool you with a book? That's like trying to fool a jewelry appraiser with a stone. This book is indeed a work that Master Terence just completed. It is a high-level textbook for Muxi University and can be bought anywhere in Muxi City."

Eliade glanced at the theories and diagrams in the book again, shook his head, and said, "This theoretical system should be more than just this one book."

As if by magic, Rachel pulled out six more books from her bosom and placed them in front of Eliade: "These are textbooks on microscopic theory. Master Terence was in charge of the last one, while the previous ones were compiled by several scholars."

Looking at the books on the table, Eliad gave Rachel a rather troubled look: "Rachel, your little tricks are always so frustrating. Honestly, you shouldn't have come back here."

Rachel shook her head with a wry smile, looked around the room at the furnishings, the biological organs preserved in glass jars, the surgical instruments in the cabinets, the neatly stacked books and drawings, and murmured with emotion, "I was born here, I belong here."

The old man pointed at Sabrina and said to the masked servant, "Take her to the next room to rest."

Sabrina, who was listening to the conversation between the two, stood up in confusion. She was about to question them, but after seeing Iliad's expression, she gave up the idea of ​​resisting.

Iliad watched the masked servant lead Sabrina to the next room. He then stacked the books and placed them on one side of the table. A hint of regret, elusive in his deeply lined face, appeared on his face. “Ratchet, now that you’re back here, there are some things I should tell you. Your birth was my fault.”

“Decades ago, Eleanor, who was pursuing immortality, found a secret method for human replication in the Elders’ library.” Eliard shook his head slightly: “As long as you obtain a part of a human body, through the effects of supernatural abilities and the immersion in ‘medicine’, you can cultivate an identical replica in a culture tank.”

Rachel lowered her head quietly, listening calmly to the old man's story, but her fingernails were already digging deep into the skin of her palms.

“At that time, I was very interested in this technology and hoped that Eleanor would tell me its principles. To my surprise, she made a condition that shocked me: she asked me to help cultivate a clone of her.”

Eliard stood up, looking at the huge, dusty glass tank in the corner: "I asked her why, and she told me that if she could have an identical clone, once her human body reached its limit due to aging, she could obtain everything she needed from the clone—organs, skin, blood."

"At first I was very resistant to this approach, but the allure of the secret method eventually forced me to compromise. After that, you were born."

Rachel brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and said in a teasing tone, "So, you're saying I'm like a spare toolbox, with parts that can be taken off and replaced at any time?"

Ignoring Rachel's mocking tone, Eliard continued, "At first, after you were born, I treated you as just an experiment. But as time went by, watching you grow from an infant into a young woman, the various experiences you went through gradually changed my feelings."

Eliard stroked his beard, recalling, "I remember, it was a winter evening. You were three months away from your coming-of-age ceremony, and Eleanor came to me and asked if your body was ready?"

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