A familiar warm current rose gently, coiling like soft ribbons around Logan's stomach, intestines, and the fat layers beneath his skin.
The concentration of his gastric acid climbed once more. What was once pure hydrochloric acid now quietly mingled with traces of nitric acid, fusing into highly concentrated aqua regia. This change forced his esophagus and entire digestive system to grow a special mucous membrane—extremely corrosion-resistant, effectively shielding his body from the acid's erosion.
In such a high-concentration acid environment—capable of dissolving most substances in the world—no organism should survive. Yet the microbes and proteases in Logan's stomach evolved too. They not only thrived unharmed in this acidic "ocean" but became even more active.
Cooperating with the intense gastric acid, these microbes rapidly broke down ingested food into a thick "nutrient soup." This soup then flowed into the small and large intestines, where significant changes occurred.
Capillaries sprouted like bamboo after rain, densely wrapping the intestines in vivid red. Inside, millions of tiny villi emerged—like high-density filter cotton, rapidly extracting nutrients from the food. Even the high-concentration acid was fully recycled, wasting nothing.
Nutrients collected by the intestinal villi raced through the abundant capillaries to every part of the body. Excess was stored in the transforming fat layers.
On Logan's head, back, and outer limbs grew sharp spines mutated from scales. These spines gradually thickened and enlarged, hollowing inside with porous honeycomb structures of capillaries.
Excess nutrients concentrated here, forming rice-grain-sized icosahedral crystals—like pristine frost sugar. Stacked together, they formed gleaming rhombic pillars.
...
Logan vaguely sensed another molt approaching. His spines and the scales cracked in the Lavasioth fight all itched numbly.
This was undoubtedly an energy-intensive process. Perfect timing—the jerky brought back needed no more drying tomorrow. He stuffed it all into his belly.
As night fell, a cracked scale on his chest—like overripe fruit—slowly slid from the tight array, clinking to the ground.
Beneath the shed scale, rich capillaries and neurons emerged, covered in a thin membrane that sealed out air and dust.
Then copious transparent fluid secreted, filling and bulging the membrane outward. As it solidified, the membrane sloughed off, revealing a brand-new scale.
Beside him, Zhu Peiniang—busily chewing jerky—saw her small scabs flake off at visible speed, exposing tender pink skin below. Perhaps due to her youth, her scales differed from Logan's: softer yet tougher.
This made her somewhat vulnerable to sharp piercing or slicing but excellent against blunt impacts.
Her torn, incomplete azure scales now appeared deeper, dulled with a grayish tint—lacking former luster. New scales beneath had cut nutrient supply to the old; soon, they'd be fully replaced.
Hundreds of pounds of jerky gradually vanished into their stomachs. By next morning, most was gone.
...
Logan crawled drowsily from the nest, shaking lightly. He arched his back, stretched fully, and yawned hugely. Scales rubbed with crisp, pearl-like chimes.
He trotted to soft sand behind the mound, dug a large pit quickly, squatted, and handled life's necessities.
From the excreta, he clearly saw the digestive upgrades' effects. Once grayish-white feces, now pale dry blocks. Nutrients fully absorbed—only worthless waste remained. It could probably fertilize flowers without burning them.
With fewer nutrients, microbial activity dropped too—virtually odorless, a pleasant surprise.
...
Logan kicked soil back into the pit, covering traces. His gaze turned deeper into the Wildspire Waste—toward yesterday's drying spot.
Confirming the Black Diablos couldn't catch him and posed no threat, curiosity sparked. He wanted to actively track it.
He'd never seen a Diablos egg—how could he miss this chance to learn? Like spotting a massive crocodile about to lay eggs, unable to harm you—could you resist peeking?
Of course, snagging one to taste would be even better.
Animals act on impulse—no need to weigh consequences or take responsibility.
Logan sprang into action. He dashed back to the nest, low-roared a few times at the lazily belly-rolling Zhu Peiniang—instructing her to stay put today—then bolted toward the Wildspire depths.
Each powerful leap covered over ten meters—like low-flying white lightning. Soon, he returned to the cactus.
The scene differed vastly from yesterday. The once-still columnar cactus was snapped mid-trunk, upper half scattered chaotically, remnants covered in massive chew marks.
From those huge bites, likely the Black Diablos's doing. Or perhaps that was its true goal—and he was just unlucky drying jerky on its food?
Logan scratched his chest—new scales itched slightly. He stopped pondering and followed ground traces.
Between two deep furrows, he found a small black carapace fragment—shed when it face-planted yesterday. The lingering scent made tracking much easier.
(End of Chapter 36)
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