Chapter Thirty-Two: The Lich King's Scheme Succeeded

In truth, Roald possessed no such thing as the so-called nineteen gene techniques, but that hardly prevented him from claiming so. Yet what he said was not entirely a lie—the undead required no breath, and could fight in any climate or oxygenless environment, unhindered and fully capable. Coupled with the enhancement of various cards, alongside methods such as Infection and Dark Infusion, transforming them into super soldiers was not at all impossible.

As for the supposed surgical transformation for Ross, it was nothing more than subjecting him to a round of card enhancements. Roald’s real purpose was to obtain Hulk’s blood in his berserk state, then use it to further reinforce Grommash, and at the same time to examine the layers within the blood of Marvel’s superhuman heroes.

Simultaneously, by collaborating with the American military, he would sell them undead warriors clad in armor, clearing himself of any suspicion. When the Ancient One traced the origins to the military, she would assume it was simply another biochemical experiment. That had nothing to do with Roald.

If the Ancient One truly had so much idle time.

Roald hoped, through this opportunity, to somehow obtain the blood of some sorcerers, or to leverage the military to collect certain energy substances, to see whether Kel’Thuzad could be forged.

Leaving Grommash to assist Ross with the capture of Hulk, Roald’s figure vanished before Ross in an instant.

If not for the necrotic elixir gripped in his hand, and Grommash standing beside him, Ross would have thought it all a dream.

After a moment’s contemplation, he picked up the phone and dialed the military’s dedicated line.

“Commander Roman, I have something…”

…

…

San Diego, Eighth District Base for the Study of Non-Terrestrial Life, U.S. Military.

General Ross, now in possession of concentrated necrotic elixir, entered the laboratory with Grommash at his side, accompanied by a major. In the adjacent room, a group of military brass were gathered, preparing to witness the results of his so-called breakthrough.

As the three entered, Ross’s face was solemn, heavy with a gravity he could barely conceal. “Blonsky… Major, are you certain of your decision?”

“Yes, sir. I am a soldier, and obedience to orders is the duty of all soldiers.” Blonsky stood with his hands behind his back, legs apart. “But what I find even harder to endure is the humiliation of defeat.”

Last time in Brazil, he had led his personally trained special forces to capture Bruce Banner, only for the operation to end in failure.

Confronted with Hulk in his rage, he found his expertise in firearms and tactical teamwork utterly useless—the opponent was impervious, the battle one-sided. Not a single member of his squad survived, and Blonsky was the sole survivor of the capture team.

It was an enormous disgrace.

“General, rather than wither away or die in regret, I’d rather go out with a bang.” Blonsky’s voice trembled with passion. “I was prepared for this the moment I stepped into this room.”

Today, he was here to test the effects of the necrotic elixir.

“Today, I have a gift for the major, possibly more potent than the so-called super soldier serum, with fewer side effects.” With that, Ross nodded to Grommash.

Grommash sliced open his palm with his battle axe, mixing his blood with the necrotic elixir.

It was Roald’s suggestion; the orc blood served as a minor catalyst.

“A gift?” Blonsky was puzzled.

“A superior super soldier formula, with fewer drawbacks.”

Taking the syringe containing three milliliters of Grommash’s fresh blood blended with necrotic elixir, Blonsky injected it into his arm without hesitation.

In mere seconds, Blonsky’s body erupted with a series of popping sounds, as the elixir mixed with demon and orc blood took effect.

With a thunderous crash, Blonsky fell to his knees, shattering the tiles beneath him. His body trembled violently, bestial growls escaping his throat. His muscles bulged visibly, new markings appearing on his skin, and the demon and orc blood turned his entire body crimson.

The solid floor was gouged like butter by his mutated hands, leaving deep scars. Grommash pressed a hand hard against Blonsky’s back, pinning him down no matter how he struggled.

After several minutes, the transformation ceased. Blonsky rose, gasping, now completely changed—his height nearing two meters, his body dark red, his muscles grotesquely swollen.

“How do you feel, Major?” Ross asked.

“General, I feel stronger.” Blonsky clenched his fist.

“Excellent. Let’s proceed with the tests.” Ross nodded in satisfaction, suppressing his curiosity about Grommash, and beckoned to the researchers.

They would first test the changes in Blonsky’s physical attributes, gathering data for comparison with his previous records.

Only with sufficient data could they experiment further, or consider deploying this in the military.

Soon, the research staff had the test apparatus ready.

“We can begin.” Ross took the record tablet from the clerk and called out to Blonsky and the staff.

The generals watching from the other room paused their conversations, their eyes fixed curiously on the screens.

They too were eager to see Blonsky’s results.

“First, the weightlifting test. Start at five hundred kilograms.”

The staff exchanged glances, then looked at the calm Ross, and set the resistance level.

“Start at one ton,” Grommash interjected. “Our technology isn’t as crude as yours.”

He had drunk Grommash’s blood—how could his strength be so little? Was Ross underestimating him?

The room fell silent.

“Are you sure?” Ross stared at him in surprise.

“Absolutely.”

Seeing Grommash’s insistence, the staff increased the dynamometer to one ton.

Blonsky, as if nothing had happened, lifted the one-ton weight overhead with a single arm.

Watching Blonsky, his body bristling with test sensors, handle it so effortlessly, the generals monitoring the entire process felt their brows twitch.

But the subsequent tests left everyone questioning themselves.

“Pressure resistance at 0.5 density, passed!”

“100-meter sprint: eight seconds, passed!”

“Standing long jump: twenty meters, passed!”

“Standing high jump: eighteen meters, passed!”

“0.3 to 0.4 inch firearm resistance, passed.”

Everyone present was stunned by Blonsky’s results.

Ross was trembling with excitement.

Bear in mind, Blonsky had only injected three milliliters.

What if he took the full dose?

He slammed the data tablet onto the lab bench, then, as arrogantly as he could, straightened his uniform, faced the camera in the corner, and gave a crisp salute to the generals in the other room.

Finally, he spread his arms wide and shouted loudly so everyone could hear:

“Gentlemen, we can redefine what it means to be a super warrior!”

“Americans don’t deceive Americans!”

He, Ross,

Had risen today!

Vindicated and proud!