Weng-Chiang's Life-Essence Distillation Chamber

The cylindrical distillation chamber looms in the subterranean vault, its brass-and-glass apparatus gleaming under flickering gaslight. Pipes snake from its base, whispering with hissing steam, while padded restraints line the interior—evidence of its grim purpose. Chang loads the latest captive, his reluctance palpable, as Weng-Chiang’s obsession with prolonging his decaying vitality twists science into torture. Litefoot’s horror grows palpable, the chamber’s mechanical groans syncopating the moment before terror.