Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world

Zou Fang took a deep breath, stepping forward. All eyes were on him.

His hands moved with certainty as he reached for the one plant that no one dared to touch—the twisted, sickly-looking, dark green leaf with black veins running through it.

The moment he picked it up, the entire crowd gasped in horror.

Even the old elder, who had remained impassive throughout most of the trials, narrowed his eyes sharply.

"Boy," the elder said, voice laced with caution, "do you have any idea what you are doing?"

Zou Fang, still feeling the pressure of Wei Long's words in his head, simply nodded and walked toward Angola.

Whispers exploded among the disciples.

"Is he insane?!"

"That thing is toxic! It'll kill the lizard!"

"No… If it were truly lethal, the elder wouldn't have allowed it to be here… But still…!"

Angola, the massive lizard, tilted its head slightly, staring at Zou Fang with those massive reptilian eyes.

A flicker of something… curiosity? Recognition?

Zou Fang raised the poisonous plant toward Angola's face.

The massive beast sniffed it once—a deep, long inhale that sent a chill through the onlookers.

Then—

CRUNCH.

Angola ate it without hesitation.

The elder's eyes widened slightly.

But before anyone could fully process what just happened—

Zou Fang Attacked Angola.

BAM!

A loud thud echoed through the hall.

A punch.

Zou Fang's fist had slammed into Angola's massive, scaled side.

Silence descended upon the crowd.

For a brief moment, no one reacted—no one could even process what they were seeing.

Then, before anyone could scream, before anyone could stop him—

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Zou Fang kept hitting Angola.

His fists flew like iron hammers, pounding into Angola's fleshy body again and again.

The beast twitched, jerked, and then—

BOOM!

Zou Fang's next punch sent Angola rolling!

The ground shook as the lizard flipped over, its enormous, fleshy stomach exposed to the open air for the first time.

Gasps erupted from the spectators.

Some disciples' mouths hung open.

Even the elder's face twitched slightly, a rare flicker of emotion breaking his usual stoic expression.

Angola, the massive beast, the hero of the sect, the mighty creature whose pheromones could calm even the most tormented souls—

—was getting beaten like a drum.

BAM!

Zou Fang slammed his fist into Angola's belly.

BAM!

Another punch to the side.

Angola screeched, a pitiful, high-pitched cry that sounded so wrong coming from such a massive creature.

THUD!

Angola flopped over again, his tail flailing helplessly.

The scene was beyond comprehension.

A towering lizard, one that normally loomed over the sect, now looked like a helpless sack of meat, flailing in the air.

"…This…"

One disciple's voice trembled.

"This… feels wrong."

Another disciple whispered, eyes wide in horror:

"I… I think he's going to kill it…"

"STOP!"

The elder finally moved, his figure blurring as he appeared behind Zou Fang.

His hand shot out, grabbing Zou Fang's shoulder, his grip like iron.

Zou Fang's body froze.

Then—

The elder's skin shifted.

From pale flesh, it darkened—a deep brown hue spreading across his arm.

It was as if his body itself had transformed into wood.

A strange aura surged from the elder, pressing heavily upon Zou Fang.

"ENOUGH."

His voice rumbled through the air, low and commanding.

Zou Fang, panting slightly, finally stopped moving.

The elder's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Explain yourself."

Zou Fang blinked.

"Huh?"

The elder's grip tightened slightly.

"Why," the elder's voice dropped into something ominous, "are you beating Angola?"

Zou Fang tilted his head, his expression looking completely absentminded.

"Didn't you say we need to make it release its pheromones?"

The elder's brows twitched.

"Yes," he said, voice clipped, "but why do you have to beat it?"

Zou Fang blinked slowly, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Well," he said, scratching the back of his head, "look at him. He's fat."

Silence.

The elder's expression froze.

The crowd? Silent.

Even Angola, the poor, massive lizard who had been turned into a punching bag, just stared at Zou Fang with pure, utter disbelief.

Zou Fang, still looking completely sincere, continued:

"I mean, he's huge. And I don't mean the strong kind of huge. He's got extra fat everywhere."

The elder's jaw clenched slightly.

"…And?"

Zou Fang sighed, shaking his head as if it was painfully obvious.

"Well, fat things are unhealthy. If he's gonna be a hero of the sect, shouldn't he be in peak condition?"

The elder's fingers twitched slightly.

"So you… thought beating him was the solution?"

Zou Fang nodded firmly.

"Exercise is important. I was just helping him lose some weight."

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Even Wei Long, who usually had something to say, was too stunned to comment.

One disciple whispered under his breath:

"…I think I just lost five years off my life."

Another disciple, staring at Zou Fang in pure horror, murmured:

"I feel like I just witnessed a crime…"

Angola, the massive lizard, still lying helplessly on the ground, twitched slightly.

The elder rubbed his temples, as if trying to process what he had just heard.

"Zou Fang," the elder said slowly, voice carrying the weight of immense exhaustion, "do you understand what you've done?"

Zou Fang nodded, looking pleased with himself.

"Yeah! I helped him!"

The elder breathed in deeply, his patience hanging by a thread.

Before he could respond, however—

A new voice cut through the tension.

A voice old, deep, and filled with quiet amusement.

"Wait."

The crowd snapped their heads toward the source.

An even older figure, draped in ornate robes, stepped forward from the shadows.

His presence was commanding, his gaze sharp.

And his smirk?

Dangerous.

The hall fell into complete silence once more.

Elder Fan Ming stepped forward, his movements slow but carrying an undeniable weight.

The entire sect hall fell silent.

Even the usual murmurs of the disciples vanished, as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation.

He was not just an elder—he was one of the oldest living members of the sect, a figure rarely seen in public unless the situation demanded it.

And yet, here he was.

His piercing gaze swept across the crowd before settling on the massive, trembling form of Angola.

For a long, agonizing moment, Elder Fan Ming simply stared.

No words. No movement.

Just a deep, assessing gaze.

Angola, the once proud and unshakable sect beast, now lay there—bruised, battered, and utterly humiliated.

For the first time, the lizard's massive reptilian eyes showed something that no one had ever seen before—

Fear.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Elder Fan Ming spoke.

His voice was calm, but each syllable landed like a heavy stone.

"…Angola would have been dead in a few days."

The entire hall exploded into chaos.

"WHAT?!"

"NO WAY!"

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

"HOW COULD HE—?!"

The disciples' voices overlapped in a frenzy of disbelief.

Even the other elders visibly reacted, their usually stoic faces showing flickers of shock.

The elder who had stopped Zou Fang earlier frowned deeply.

"Elder Fan Ming," he said, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief, "surely, you must be mistaken—"

"I do not make mistakes," Elder Fan Ming cut him off sharply.

His weathered gaze did not waver as he continued, his words unshakable.

"Angola's body had already reached a critical point."

He took a step closer to the massive beast, his eyes unforgiving as he inspected the damage.

"This fat…" Elder Fan Ming's voice lowered, his tone filled with something almost like disgust. "It is not just excessive. It is suffocating him from the inside."

Everyone froze.

The weight of those words settled over them.

Even Angola, despite his current state, shuddered slightly.

Elder Fan Ming gestured toward the lizard's massive body, his movements slow but deliberate.

"The layers of fat have been pressing down on his organs, restricting blood flow. His heart has been struggling to pump blood properly. His lungs? Compressed."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

Some disciples turned pale.

The other elders exchanged wary glances.

"But that's not all," Elder Fan Ming continued, his expression darkening.

"His metabolism has slowed to the point where even his nourishment absorption is failing."

Someone in the crowd gulped audibly.

Elder Fan Ming's words were like a hammer striking reality into their minds.

"In simple terms," he said, his gaze sweeping across the dumbfounded disciples, "Angola was already dying."

Silence.

For a moment, the entire sect felt like it had stopped breathing.

"But then…"

Elder Fan Ming's sharp gaze snapped toward Zou Fang.

"Then this boy beat him up."

Zou Fang, who had been standing silently, looked up, blinking in confusion.

Elder Fan Ming folded his arms.

"And because of that… Angola is alive."

The hall shook with another wave of stunned gasps.

Zou Fang's beating had… saved Angola?!

The elder from earlier furrowed his brows deeply, his expression filled with reluctant understanding.

Elder Fan Ming exhaled slowly, his eyes filled with the wisdom of countless years.

"Each strike," he said, voice steady, "dislodged the blockages in Angola's body. The force of the blows forced his blood to circulate again, pushed his stagnant energy to flow once more."

His eyes narrowed.

"If Zou Fang had not acted when he did… Angola would have collapsed within the next few days. No amount of medicine or spiritual techniques could have saved him."

The disciples were speechless.

Even the elders seemed… uncertain.

"Then…" One disciple finally spoke, his voice trembling.

"That means Zou Fang… actually saved him?!"

Elder Fan Ming nodded.

"Not just saved him. If Angola fully recovers, his body will be stronger than ever before."

BOOM.

That revelation hit harder than anything before.

Zou Fang, standing completely still, scratched his head.

"Oh…" he mumbled, looking completely unfazed.

"Uh… So… I did a good job?"

The disciples stared at him like he was some kind of monster.

One of them whispered:

"How… How is this guy real?"

Another muttered:

"I thought he was crazy… but was he actually a genius?"

But Elder Fan Ming wasn't done yet.

His sharp gaze locked onto Zou Fang once more.

"You," he said, voice filled with deep interest.

"You are interesting."

Zou Fang's eyes widened slightly.

"May I ask… how did you know?"

A hush fell over the crowd again.

Every disciple focused entirely on Zou Fang.

Even Angola, despite still looking pathetically bruised, stared at him.

Because Elder Fan Ming's question was something everyone wanted to know.

How had he known?

How had this seemingly random, strange, chaotic disciple figured out something none of them did?

Even the sect's elders—even the old beast caretakers—had failed to realize what was happening.

And yet… Zou Fang, the one who pummeled Angola like a sandbag, had known all along?

Zou Fang blinked.

He scratched his head again, looking completely lost.

Then, after a long pause, he gave his answer—

An answer that would shake the entire hall once more.