The mermaid leapt into the air, using the low-hanging storm clouds’ lightning to maintain height. Bai Chunian froze, realizing he had no time to think. He braced on the sunroof and vaulted out, landing on the hood: “Lan Bo, don’t let him escape.”
Lan Bo tilted his head. The river water surged toward his hands, compressing with the rocket launcher on his shoulder to form a transparent quad-barrel launcher, aimed at the vortex swallowing the red car.
Bai Chunian waved from the bridge: “There are hostages in the car!”
Lan Bo discarded the quad-barrel launcher. Upon hitting the water, it fused with the river, forming a hydro-steel heavy machine gun. Its rate of fire could reach 6,000 rounds per minute, piercing any non-armored target within 100 meters.
Only hydro-steel barrels can accommodateLan Bo’s M2 “High-Explosive Water Orbs.” Regular guns cannot.Lan Bo had clearly sacrificed raw weapon power for usability.
Bai Chunian shouted again to halt him: “Beta! Beta!”
Hearing that the hostage was a beta,Lan Bo grew impatient. He shattered the hydro-steel heavy machine gun, scooped up a portion of the fragmented water with both hands, and reformed it into a handgun. As he descended past Bai Chunian, he whispered, “Wait for me on shore.”
Bai Chunian swiftly rolled back into the armored sedan, slammed the wheel hard, and turned away from the raised bridge, accelerating into the city streets.
Lan Bo dove into the water, his powerful, translucent tail churning the river. Around him, the murky water visibly cleared; wherever he passed, sediment and pollutants were purified, revealing the red car trapped in the riverbed beneath.
Samael had shattered the car window, clutching tightly a beta doctor in a white lab coat. The circus clown’s hold looked comically absurd.
Without the protection of the experimental subject, the force ofLan Bo’s two high-explosive water orbs would likely have crushed the doctor into a pulp. Even so, in the water, no advantage could surpassLan Bo’s speed. He moved almost as fast as lightning descending from the clouds and needed no air to survive. Even without striking, Samael would be slowly suffocated just by being forced to exhaust himself underwater.
Samael’s mask bore a mocking smile. Red-and-white hoops appeared around him, expanding rapidly. Fish within the water caught in the hoops’ range suffered ruptured eyes and attackedLan Bo fiercely.
The infected fish formed a wall of sharp teeth, forcingLan Bo several meters away, while Samael swam toward shore with Doctor Lin Deng held in his arms.
The defiance of the fish enragedLan Bo. A violent, guttural cry echoed through the river, shaking the water for thousands of meters.
The PBB troops arriving on the riverbank witnessed a once-in-a-millennium spectacle.
He Suowei, stationed in the helicopter, saw the scene most clearly: massive shadows emerging from the distant river. First, countless river dolphins leapt from the surface, followed by large, aggressive schools of carnivorous fish, swirling into a dark vortex.
A strange, resonant sound traveled from underwater to the air. Little Clown, resting in the helicopter, suddenly went vacant-eyed, his irises glowing the same blue asLan Bo’s tail. He almost climbed out of the helicopter into the freezing river, restrained only by Ying’s desperate grip.
Ying patted him, anxiety sharp in his voice: “A-Cheng, wake up! What are you doing?”
Little Clown had seemingly lost his mind, replying blankly: “The king is calling me.”
The carnivorous fish were far stronger in bite force and cohesion than Samael’s infected fish, viciously ramming and tearing at anything alive in the water aside fromLan Bo.
Samael’s clown suit was shredded by the fish’s teeth, and his bleeding attracted even more attacks. Some fish even tore at Doctor Lin Deng, but Samael wrapped the struggling doctor with his own body and used pieces of his clown outfit to cover him.
Lan Bo’s cold gaze followed Samael’s desperate struggle. He raised his gun, striking Samael’s arm; water rushed into the wound and into his nose.
Lan Bo seized Doctor Lin from Samael, releasing a growing bubble of air around him, filled with oxygen, isolating him from the water.
Samael, unable to breathe, clawed toward shore with a wounded arm, the fish pursuing relentlessly.
Lan Bo calmly floated the oxygen bubble to the surface, then carried the dripping doctor up the towering bridge using electromagnetic force, as though lifting a piece of trash.
PBB forces sealed the riverbank, soldiers in armored suits and gas masks waiting. Samael would be subdued the moment he stepped ashore.
Though the perimeter was tight, the riverbank was long and wide, leaving some potential gaps. At the far west abandoned dock lay a cluster of idle fishing boats, gently bobbing with the river breeze.
A battered hand clawed up the edge of one boat. Samael paused for a few seconds, then forced himself aboard, collapsing in exhaustion. His body was riddled with wounds; even with the subject’s enhanced healing, so many bite injuries required time to recover.
After resting, he staggered off the boat, rolling onto the shore, chest heaving with fatigue.
Suddenly, he sensed a presence more dangerous than the mermaid he’d just encountered.
He opened his eyes, searching through his mask.
A solitary shadow sat atop a wooden beam on the dock—Bai Chunian, cross-legged, holding a pure, transparent glass orb up to the sunset.
Samael warily eyed the seemingly relaxed young alpha. Bai Chunian did not intentionally release any oppressive pheromones, but a malignant aura emanated from his bones, born of endless cycles of killing and a hopeless future. Samael recognized it instantly—he had been the same.
The glass orb reflected the dying sunlight in its flawless clarity. Bai Chunian murmured to himself, “Unbelievable… some souls are so pure they remain transparent even in death.”
Samael struggled to stand, supporting himself on his injuries, legs trembling: “You… aren’t… human…”
“We are… the same kind… with me… you can… be free…”
Bai Chunian’s eyes curved slightly, river reflections rippling within them.
Until the crescent moon hung high, he quietly left the dock. Crows circled behind him, feeding on bloodied corpses in the wild.
Samael lay in the wilderness, impaled by sharpened metal playing cards scattered around him. The final joker plunged its pointed corner into the brow of his mask. On the card, the clown still smiled.
The Alliance’s return bus waited at the rendezvous point. Bai Chunian lounged under a tree, smoking a cigarette, delaying his return.
A cool, slippery arm wrapped silently around the back of his neck, locking his throat from behind with a forearm, a cold gun pressed against his temple.
“Chitaha mil jeo? (Who are you grieving for?)”Lan Bo whispered near his ear, his tail coiled around the tree Bai Chunian leaned against, suspending his body above the ground.
“I’m not, darling,” Bai Chunian replied, turning to embraceLan Bo, burying his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the pheromones lingering on the moisturizing bandages.
He felt restless and uneasy; his bones and veins ached with a craving forLan Bo’s calming pheromones. Even though the bus was nearby, and the trainees and medical personnel could see everything, he could not control the desperate anticipation.
It was like before in the breeding chamber: after a full day of brutal combat in a blood-soaked ecological box, the losers’ limbs scattered on the floor, the winners covered in injuries, returning to the warm enclosure to crawl into the omega’s arms for healing.
“Don’t mourn for humans,”Lan Bo murmured, lifting Bai Chunian’s face to kiss his eyelids. He released his tail from the tree, suddenly pressing his full weight onto the alpha, toppling him to the ground. His right hand lifted the hem of Bai Chunian’s vest, pushing it upward to reveal the chiseled, desiccated muscles of his abdomen.
Lan Bo loosened his belt, extending sharp nails that dug into Bai Chunian’s lower abdomen, pinning him down and tearing inch by inch into his skin. With each cut, he etched his name—
“Lan Bo.”
Bai Chunian received no calming pheromones. The pain from the sharp nails was intense, and though his wounds healed quickly,Lan Bo repeatedly tore at the same spot, preventing closure, leaving indelible scars. Bai Chunian did not push away the omega abusing his body; his fingertips dug marks into the ground in response to the pain, his eyes filled with a yearning for embrace, gazing indulgently atLan Bo.
“Punishment,”Lan Bo said coldly, watching the alpha below him seeking comfort. He hated seeing Bai Chunian distracted by others—it was a private betrayal.
“Ief bigi moya glarbo, boliea moya glarbo ye, chiy, farist giae boliea. (If humans cause you pain, I will only cause you more. So first, remember me.)”
Volume Three: The Pestilent Hospital – Afterword (Part One)
PBBW Storm Unit, while clearing the battlefield at the western dock, found the body of experimental subject 408, Samael. Two squad members in protective suits lifted his mask and photographed him for record.
According to the squad members, Samael’s eyes were closed; he was a strikingly handsome omega, melancholic in expression, contradicting the comical mask and outfit.
Inside his pocket, they discovered a worn doll keychain shaped like a circus clown spinning a hula hoop. Etched on the bottom of the clown’s shoes were words:
“Happy Birthday, Daddy loves you. Even at the research institute, be happy every day.
Lin Deng”
Afterword (Part Two)
Professor Lin Deng was temporarily detained by the military. During interrogation, he disclosed that his parents were held by the top officials of Research Institute 109 in Germany. Monthly reports on experimental subject development were required to ensure their safety.
Lin Deng explained that anyone within a certain perimeter centered around experimental subject 408 would contract the circulating virus. He had developed an antibody vaccine that could prevent infection, but it had not yet passed authoritative validation and could not be widely deployed. After subject 408’s death, all patients in the latent or early infection stages would automatically recover, while those in the late stage would die.
Due to a hacker breaching the hospital’s core systems, much data had vanished. The Enxi police found no evidence of Lin Deng manufacturing dangerous bioweapons, and he was set to be released within a month.
Afterword (Part Three)
One month later, Lin Deng was released without charges.
A young omega in a yellow hoodie, chewing on a lollipop, drove to pick him up. The boy wore a trendy, color-blocked hood, a bold black worm logo painted across his back.
He tossed a game console to Lin Deng from the driver’s seat. It turned on automatically, displaying a laughing clown on the screen, spinning a hula hoop comically with a tap.
“Though he came to take you away, his arrival brought disaster to the hospital. This outcome isn’t unfair.”
“Don’t be sad—I made an electronic grave for him. How do you like it, Professor?”
Afterword (Part Four)
Outside the Alliance building, a solemn white flag was raised beneath the IOA banner in mourning. Whenever an Alliance operative died on a mission, this flag was hoisted.
The Nile Crocodile alpha, Cheng Chi, was seventeen, a trainee at the special training base for five years, a contemporary of Ying and the others. His pheromones were white roses. His grieving mother brought twenty thousand white roses, clutching a portrait and oscillating between sobs and manic laughter; his father stood silently by, eyes red.
Bai Chunian, dressed in a black suit with a white rose pinned to his chest, walked before them. Ying and the other trainees followed in black, Ying blinking hard to hold back tears.
Bai Chunian approached Cheng Chi’s father, producing a glass orb from his pocket with gloved hands.
“You must understand—this is irreversible.”
The middle-aged alpha’s voice trembled: “Yes.”
Bai Chunian: “He was my most outstanding student. He sacrificed himself to protect the doctors. Does he not deserve to be remembered?”
“But I must protect the living. An Lan has heart disease and is carrying a baby,” the father said, looking at his grief-stricken partner in the sea of flowers. “You are too young, you haven’t started a family. You wouldn’t understand.”
Bai Chunian handed over the orb coldly. The sound of it hitting the ground and shattering echoed.
The omega holding the portrait froze, ceasing tears, lifting the photo in bewilderment.
The memorial hall was deathly silent. People had stopped crying and looked around in confusion, unsure why they were even there.
Ying supported the hand of the little clown fish and, seeing the funeral banner with Cheng Chi’s name, murmured absentmindedly, “Who’s Cheng Chi? There are so many flowers here… so pretty.”
The little clown fish shook his head. “Never heard of him. What’s for lunch?”