The library and science museum were less than fifty meters apart, with no cover between. The No Survivors team driving across showed they had someone capable of command—they had underestimated Lu Yan based on those failed sniper shots.
After several misses, Lu Yan’s health bar had been reduced by two-thirds from the alpha named Enke. He had no choice but to duck under the railing and use a recovery syringe. The syringe contained the same red liquid as his health bar. Puncturing the rubber port on the bar replenished his health, but due to pressure, it took at least twenty seconds per syringe.
In those few dozen seconds, the silver Toyota of the No Survivors team had already reached the midpoint of the drive. The science museum’s interior offered little cover and a single staircase—perfect for a sniper point, but if a squad stormed the building, retreat would be nearly impossible.
“Captain, can I borrow your M25?” Bai Chunian lazily stood and brushed dust from his uniform.
Lu Yan hesitated. This alpha seemed unreliable; what could happen if the rifle was handed over?
“Tch, fine,” Lu Yan said, tossing the sniper to Bai Chunian. “If you peek, they’ve got this window covered.”
Bai Chunian caught it, lightly scaling the glass railing. Without a scope, he fired a quick shot at the window. The front left tire of the speeding silver Toyota exploded, sending the vehicle skidding wildly. Seizing the few seconds, Bai Chunian reloaded, peered out again, aimed at the driver’s forehead, and pulled the trigger.
The broadcast immediately updated:
[Mess Around] Bai Chunian eliminated [No Survivors] Enke
“Driver’s out. This team’s finished. Let’s go downstairs and collect them.”
Lu Yan stared at the kill feed, frozen.
“Lanbo and I, with Arrowwood on the little rabbit,” Bai Chunian led them down the stairs. Bi Lanxing carried Lu Yan through a window; black vines extended from his five fingers, climbing along the glass facade and forming a zipline to rapidly descend.
Lanbo didn’t rely entirely on Bai Chunian—his tail continued emitting electricity, using electromagnetic adhesion to vault across conductive surfaces. Bai Chunian caught him mid-jump. The elevator they entered was charged with high-voltage energy, levitating them and allowing a smooth, fast descent.
The No Survivors team was trapped from all sides. Having just encountered the other two squads at the library, they were far from optimal condition. The drift and crash from Bai Chunian’s shots left the remaining three dizzy. They had never anticipated their main alpha would be sniped early. Frantically defending themselves, they barely managed to react.
Bi Lanxing tied up the three struggling members with his vines, allowing Lu Yan to easily collect kills. His chest kill count jumped from “2” to “5.”
Bai Chunian crouched to inspect Enke, the alpha he had sniped. A Gira Woodpecker alpha, Enke had only 2 kills, while his teammate, a Great Tit alpha, had 10. The other two had zero. Clearly, the team followed the classic “three protect one” strategy, giving kills to the main alpha, who in this case was Enke—a surprisingly skilled fighter.
Bai Chunian sliced open Enke’s uniform and noticed a tattoo on the chest—a flying bird with a cluster of red markings around its neck.
The insignia of the notorious organization “Red-Throated Bird.”
Bai Chunian had never imagined a terrorist group would mix into an exam like this. He was curious about their motives. If it was for money, that made some sense—after all, hiring ATWL to assist in exams was expensive—but compared to drug trafficking, smuggling, and human trafficking, exam-assisting seemed relatively arduous, with a high risk of exposing themselves.
Unable to figure it out for the moment, he set the thought aside. He removed the detonation blockers from the No Survivors corpses. Ignoring the ones scheduled to fall in the next hour, there were twelve blockers in total; split among the four of them, each would have three. With the remaining one on each person’s belt, everyone now had four hours of safety.
After searching the corpses, Bai Chunian checked the fixed supply box and retrieved three recovery syringes, a PVS-4 night-vision scope, multiple ammo belts of different types, and a set of wireless communicators.
“What did you all get?” he asked.
Bi Lanxing: “Uzi submachine gun.”
Lu Yan: “Desert Eagle, ten spare rounds.”
Lanbo held a .44 Magnum revolver, methodically loading each bullet with his teeth.
Bai Chunian: “Silencer.”
Lu Yan: “???”
Bai Chunian lifted the silencer and, pointing it at the No Survivors corpses, said, “Next time, pick a luckier team name, brothers.”
Lu Yan’s mission book listed the first task: hand over intelligence to the librarian on the library’s third floor, D Section. When the team entered, they found the file room in total disarray—papers scattered everywhere, chaos on the floor.
The librarian crouched amidst the mess, sweating profusely as he tried to gather the documents. Lu Yan cautiously approached to deliver the intelligence, only to be snapped at:
“I’m busy! Can’t you see? Look at this mess!”
Lu Yan’s temper flared, but Bi Lanxing grabbed him and whispered, “We have time. Help him sort first.”
Bai Chunian found a spot to lounge and started tidying up a pile of disordered “File A,” browsing through as he organized.
File A recorded an early 17th-century outbreak of a virus targeting humans: the Hurricane Virus. Symptoms combined Ebola-like hemorrhagic fever with rabies, spreading worldwide with hurricane-like speed and ferocity.
At the time, medical researchers discovered that treating wild leech-like rotifers could produce a vaccine, enabling the human body to rapidly form antibodies against the virus.
Those who survived the outbreak thought the danger was over—until November 1793, when a neurosurgeon in Aphid City noticed a half-pigeon-egg-shaped protrusion on the back of his neck. He called it “a kind of gland” in an interview.
Soon, many citizens reported the same glands, which did not affect daily life, so there was no panic. People assumed it was a side effect of the Hurricane vaccine—but the shocking truth emerged: newborns also exhibited the glands, showing it was inheritable.
Major medical organizations launched studies and found that human cells normally lacked reverse transcription, but the leech-rotifer serum promoted it. Viral RNA could be converted to DNA and integrated into reproductive cells’ genomes.
Because the rotifers hijacked genes and mutated easily, each person’s gland contained random DNA from various organisms. Over centuries of evolution, the glands matured fully, expressing different biological traits or mutating into specialized glands that granted humans unique differentiated abilities.
In the summer of 1896, a young European magician performed a levitation act at the opera, causing a sensation. When someone tried to expose him as a trick, he opened feathered wings and flew to the ceiling.
By the early 20th century, researchers realized this magician was likely the first human to awaken a gland-based trait—presumed to be a hummingbird type, capable of flight and hovering, already reaching M2 level.
Glands acted almost like parasitic viruses, symbiotically integrated with humans—irreversible and inseparable.
Bai Chunian had never pondered how glands appeared. He did not remember childhood events. By the time he realized he was a White Lion alpha, he simply was one. Investigating human anatomy at the molecular level was a rare opportunity.
Sorting another pile of scraps, Bai Chunian organized them by page number.
“File B” proved far more interesting than the dense genetic reports—a kind of observational log, recording an experimental subject’s reproduction:
Special Operations Weapon 1513 Breeding Diary: Contrary to his astonishing offensive power, he showed little interest—or shyness—in mating with omegas. Despite introducing abundant aphrodisiac pheromones into the breeding chamber, he refused interaction.
They finally found a cute omega, whose appearance surpassed the creator’s aesthetic limits… and, fortunately, Special Operations Weapon 1513 liked him. Slowly, he approached, hugging the adorable omega from behind—though only briefly, leaving hope for tomorrow’s progress.
He even slept hugging the omega. Seeing their sweetness, the researchers predicted a baby would inherit Special Operations Weapon 1513’s piercing, bullet-like attack power… Their genetic cloning techniques were still primitive, but one day, pure gene editing might achieve their desired results.
Bai Chunian was intimately familiar with this process. There was a long stretch of time when, after enduring an entire day of brutal chemical trials and physical performance tests, he would be exhausted and sent back to the warmth of the breeding chamber, lying beside Lanbo, drifting to sleep while inhaling his scent.
At first, the researchers instructed him to caress and hug Lanbo. Usually defiant and poor at following orders, Bai Chunian didn’t resist this one time—he tried holding Lanbo in his arms. Later, after every night’s training, lying beside Lanbo in the breeding chamber became the only thing Bai Chunian looked forward to each day.
He finished reading File B but wasn’t satisfied, so he searched for File C, curious what other records might be inside. After some time, he found half a pile of File C remnants in Lanbo’s possession.
Lu Yan and Bi Lanxing, sweating heavily, had already cleaned up the file room and received the intelligence chip from the librarian. The four of them sat together, opening their mission books to plan the next steps.
Lu Yan had completed one task; a star lit up on his mission book. Bi Lanxing had done the same.
Bai Chunian glanced at Lanbo’s mission book.
Three stars.
Random Task One: Sort File A – Completed
Random Task Two: Sort File B – Completed
Random Task Three: Destroy File C – Completed
Such luck.
This had to be the proverbial “goldfish luck.”