Meanwhile, Lan Bo cut through the water with incredible speed. Within minutes, he approached a pod of orcas, ten or so of them fiercely attacking a human merchant ship, their massive heads ramming it until it rocked dangerously.
Sensing the approach of Lan Bo’s presence, the orcas calmed and parted to make space for him.
Against these colossal creatures, Lan Bo looked small and fragile, but the aggressive orcas aligned neatly, heads lowered, tails swaying in deference to their king.
“Nali? (What happened?)” Lan Bo asked.
The lead orca responded: there was a strange scent aboard the ship. Curious, and finding no weapons, they had tried to investigate further.
Lan Bo sniffed the faint trails mingled in the seawater—familiar, almost like brandy, yet different from the scent of wine shipments, mixed with blood.
He clung to the ship’s hull like a lizard, climbing swiftly toward the deck. As the crew focused on the attacking orcas, Lan Bo circled behind them, silently slipping into the cargo hold.
Inside, the thermometer read just 4°C, like a large refrigerated chamber. Blue containers labeled with serial numbers filled the space, all fully sealed.
Pressing his ear to the metal, Lan Bo caught faint sounds of breathing.
His ears gradually sharpened, the ear bones reshaping into blue fins, heightening his hearing.
Through the iron wall, he heard weak cries for help. The voice was familiar—he thought he was hallucinating.
Carefully, he pressed close to the container, claws black-blue and sharp, and tried to loosen the sealing screws. They were tight; after much effort, he removed three of the metal panel’s fastenings.
Lan Bo coiled his tail around one end of the panel, dragging it aside. Blood gushed out, pooling on the floor. As the ice melted, body after body tumbled out, flesh mangled and soaked in blood.
From the pile, a scarred hand struggled upward. An alpha, face smeared in blood, was trapped beneath the corpses, still breathing. Instinct drove him to crawl toward Lan Bo, reaching out in desperation.
“Save me.” His blurred eyes didn’t notice the fish tail on Lan Bo—they only followed the gentle pheromones, reaching out in agony.
Lan Bo reached to grasp him, but the moment their fingertips met, the young alpha lost his last strength, toppling face-down onto the floor.
“No, no,” Lan Bo cried, clutching him, trying to soothe him. “Randi? Wei?”
It was futile. The alpha’s spine had been cut open surgically and stitched, the wound now severely infected, pus revealing glimpses of white bone.
The dead alpha’s face mirrored Bai Chunian’s—same black hair, same dark eyes, corners of the eyes lifted like a peach blossom.
The ship floated in tropical currents, yet a chill ran up Lan Bo’s spine. He slowly looked up at the mound of bodies—each in the same disposable experiment suit, snow-white skin drained of color, black hair matted with blood, bodies covered in stitched wounds, most dead, a few unconscious barely clinging to life. They all shared Bai Chunian’s features.
Panicked, Lan Bo set the alpha on the floor and moved to another container. Screws loosened, the lid lifted to reveal more bodies, again all identical to Bai Chunian, dead from repeated infection after stitching.
Lan Bo sat dumbfounded, blood on his hands, tongue flicking to taste it. The faint brandy in it muddled his mind.
The noise drew in sailors. One entered, looking up to see a mermaid perched atop a container, tail shimmering blue.
Lan Bo’s hollow blue eyes narrowed into a thin line, icy as a serpent.
He lunged, claws on the sailor’s neck, voice low and seductive: “What are you transporting?”
Terrified, the sailor stammered in Spanish: “We just… we just deliver the cargo… the employer told us to dump it in the sea… I don’t know… I know nothing…”
“Who is the employer?” Lan Bo demanded, tightening his grip.
“A… Kingston merchant…”
As the sailor tried to process what he’d revealed, he quietly reached for a stun gun in his waist holster, kicking Lan Bo away with sudden force, then pressing the trigger against his chest.
Lan Bo was suddenly kicked two meters away, landing on the deck while clutching his stomach.
Two high-voltage stun projectiles shot out, slamming into his bandaged chest. But the sailor hadn’t anticipated that the shock, powerful enough to knock someone out, flickered across Lan Bo’s chest only twice before dying out.
Frozen in shock, the sailor’s hand stiffened on the stun gun. Hair standing on end, he stumbled backward, trying to reach the alarm two meters away.
Lan Bo’s eyes flared blue. A surge of ultra-high voltage electricity ran backward along the spiral of the projectiles, white light sparking with heat, racing toward the sailor. The insulation of the stun gun was no barrier—the sailor was instantly carbonized into ash.
Lan Bo climbed out of the cargo hold, clinging to the ship’s hull, crawling along the steel surface to survey the situation.
On deck, the sailors concentrated on driving off the orcas with harpoons. The orcas flicked their tails at them like teasing fools.
Within two minutes, however, the orcas seemed to sense something and all dove into the water, swimming away.
Lan Bo lay still on the hull, predator’s tail swinging dangerously.
Suddenly, a tentacle, thick enough for four people to wrap their arms around, shot out of the water and coiled around the ship. It was covered in spots, suction cups gripping the steel hull so firmly that the metal warped, effortlessly pulling the vessel into the deep.
Lan Bo released his grip, leapt into the water, still not fully seeing the monster before the ship vanished without a trace.
He searched the nearby waters but found nothing, then raced back toward the merfolk enclave.
The ship Bai Chunian had arrived on had been guided away from the merfolk island, and once it cleared the mist, the passengers slowly regained consciousness.
A young man from Havana rubbed his aching head, sitting up. “Bro… we’re alive. I actually saw a mermaid… a real mermaid!”
Bai Chunian said nothing, eyes fixed on the monitoring screen, though his mind was wandering.
He removed the earring Lan Bo had given him, holding it between thumb and forefinger against the light. The bone was snow-white and fragile; the black mineral heavy. Lan Bo had said it was a piece of his own heart he had personally cut.
Such a pain-averse fish, yet always doing reckless things.
He had joked about a queen, thinking Lan Bo was teasing—but Lan Bo’s expression had always been serious. What exactly was he thinking?
Bai Chunian held the earring, the mineral cool against his palm, faintly pulsing.
He had always thought he and Lan Bo were kindred spirits—orphans surviving death together, warming each other—but Lan Bo had his family, his mission, living in a world utterly different from his own. He, on the other hand, belonged neither to humans nor to the sea, stuck between species, unable to fully integrate anywhere.
Annoying.
The clear sky suddenly darkened, clouds gathering. A bolt of lightning split the clouds, a streak of blue shooting from above the cargo ship. When the light vanished, Bai Chunian had disappeared as well.
Lan Bo, gripping Bai Chunian’s collar with his teeth, coiled his tail around him and dove into the water along the ship’s hull, oxygen bubbles enveloping them.
Bai Chunian lightly tapped Lan Bo’s spine. “Stop messing around. I’m busy.”
“I won’t go.” Lan Bo released his bite but prowled alongside like a protective predator, low and serious. “Dangerous.”
“What danger?” Bai Chunian smiled. “I’m a mature experimental subject. What can it do to me? I just need some blood, some tissue samples.”
Lan Bo wanted to explain what he had just seen, but the situation was too complex for language. Even in merfolk tongue, he couldn’t make it clear, let alone in Mandarin Bai Chunian could understand.
“Come back with me,” Lan Bo arched his back, dorsal fins spiking, adopting a hunting stance.
Bai Chunian coaxed patiently. “The mission isn’t done yet.”
“Once it’s done, will you come back with me?”
“But I need to report the mission, the kids on Aphid Island are waiting for me to teach.”
Lan Bo paused, stunned. He had never considered that Bai Chunian wouldn’t be tempted to stay in the ocean. He thought Bai Chunian would return obediently to his prepared Tridacna bed after the mission.
Bai Chunian bared a half-canine in a grin. “I’ll request a long-term assignment in the Americas. I should have plenty of time to be with you.”
“No.” Lan Bo’s gaze was unrestrained, filled with possessive obsession. “I have gems, gold, silk, all five oceans’ creatures belong to me. Whatever you want, I’ll take it for you.”
“I want nothing.” Bai Chunian sat down, scratching Lan Bo’s chin lightly.
“The throne, too, if you want it.” Lan Bo entwined his hand around him. “I won’t let the queen I raised go back to the dangerous humans.”
Lan Bo’s tension was palpable; his muscles taut, claws sharp outside his finger sheaths. “Humans fear you, study you, try to kill you.”
“But the president doesn’t,” Bai Chunian replied casually, rubbing his face. “Uncle Jin doesn’t either.”
“Only you trust humans,” Lan Bo said coldly. “I’ve lived 270 years. No one deserves trust.”
“Darling… what’s gotten into you?” Bai Chunian embraced Lan Bo, soothing his tense nerves. “I shouldn’t even have been born, but since I’m here, I have to have some value. The president recognizes me—I can’t disappoint him, understand?”
“Lan Bo… few have ever recognized me.”
Lan Bo absorbed his words silently, yet stubbornly pushed him toward the deep sea.
A floating reef blocked their path. Lan Bo paused, recalling the area—it seemed this island hadn’t been there before.
Bai Chunian took the opportunity to grab Lan Bo’s hand, pulling him up to the shore. They sat at the edge of the island. By coincidence, the ship Bai Chunian had arrived on was also nearby.
Lan Bo’s eyes scanned the agents aboard the ship, distrust written across his features.
Bai Chunian made a quiet shushing gesture and whispered, “They’re all colleagues from the Alliance’s South American branch. The escaped experimental subject ended up here; they’re handling it. I’m just taking a small blood sample.”
Lan Bo ignored everyone else, sticking close to Bai Chunian’s side.
The cargo ship hovered near the island. A young man from Havana scanned the area with binoculars, seemingly searching for Bai Chunian. Moments earlier, an unknown creature had snatched Bai Chunian from the deck, leaving the agents on high alert.
“See how much panic you caused?” Bai Chunian said, glancing at them anxiously searching for him, then ruffled Lan Bo’s soaked hair. “I’ll go say hello.”
He stepped onto the shore, but immediately felt the ground unusually soft. Carefully inspecting the soil, he touched it lightly.
It was smooth, coated with a layer of mucous membrane.
Bai Chunian’s expression shifted instantly. He pushed Lan Bo back toward the sea. “Go!” and dove in after him.
The message receiver on his wrist lit up. A note from the reptile omega arrived, containing the experimental subject’s details that Bai Chunian had requested:
Special Operations Weapon No. 809
Kraken
Status: M2-grade mature alpha
Appearance: Giant octopus
Biological Prototype: Blue-ringed octopus
Companion Ability: “Infinite Expansion”—can absorb consumed matter without harm, continuously growing in size, limitless.
Differentiation Ability: J1 skill “Flowing Clouds”—can instantly change body coloration for camouflage.
The island they had just been on suddenly vanished. Bai Chunian held his breath, eyes open underwater, searching for the fleeing Kraken.
Lan Bo tried to return to pull him close, but a massive, column-thick gray tentacle suddenly appeared behind him, coiling around him. Lan Bo was forced further from Bai Chunian.
Finally, Bai Chunian caught sight of the Kraken in full.
Its chromatophores covered its entire body, allowing it to change color in milliseconds. Half its massive body lay atop the white seabed, blending perfectly with it, while the other half merged with the colorful coral.
Compared to the first time they’d seen it at the port seafood factory, its volume had nearly grown 30,000 times. The Kraken now weighed roughly 1,500 tons—equivalent to stacking 300 adult Asian elephants.
The Kraken suddenly opened its rectangular eyes buried in the snow-white seabed. Its movement stirred the currents. Without Lan Bo providing oxygen, Bai Chunian had to quickly surface to breathe.
The sea erupted in massive waves. The agents’ cargo ship pitched violently, masts snapping and collapsing. Several agents were thrown overboard, including the unlucky young man from Havana.
Several people fell into the water simultaneously, but the Kraken’s interest focused solely on Bai Chunian. One of its thick tentacle tips coiled around his foot, dragging him downward.
This was Bai Chunian’s disadvantage: the ocean was not his territory, and he faced a mature octopus experimental subject.
Each of the Kraken’s tentacles possessed independent thinking. Without effort, the other tentacles automatically blocked all rescue paths Lan Bo might attempt.
The suffocating pressure spread from his lungs. Bai Chunian’s vision darkened, yet he still retained his thinking ability. He quickly assessed how to escape and what the experimental subject’s objective was.
Other humans and nonhuman subjects were also in the water, but the Kraken clearly only targeted him, suggesting it had likely received a specific target signal.
The most probable signal an ocean creature could detect would be pheromones. Bai Chunian suspected someone had tagged the Kraken with his pheromones. However, since this was a temporary mission in South America, no one should have had the opportunity to pre-program the Kraken with a tracking pheromone.
Bai Chunian scanned underwater and spotted a crevice in the reef, just large enough for a person to pass.
The Kraken’s tentacle—thick enough for four people to embrace—coiled around Bai Chunian’s ankle. Its fine tip tightened around him, but Bai Chunian swam toward the reef.
Despite the enormous size difference, the Kraken’s strength still fell short of Bai Chunian’s.
The deeper he went, the higher the pressure. Bai Chunian had no diving equipment; he relied solely on his physical strength and lung capacity, swimming with extreme effort.
Suddenly, the Kraken diverted one tentacle from intercepting Lan Bo. It coiled around Bai Chunian’s other leg and began crawling up his waist, compressing the residual air in his lungs.
The tightening tentacle caused intense internal pain. Bai Chunian choked on seawater, releasing tension, and the Kraken drew him toward its mouth, tossing him into its dark, cavernous stomach.
“Randi!” Lan Bo broke free of the tentacles and raced toward Bai Chunian but was blocked by countless mutant teeth at the Kraken’s massive jaws.
Bai Chunian remained conscious inside the Kraken’s stomach. The water level reached only his calves; half of the chamber contained breathable air.
He felt somewhat comfortable. Using a powerful flashlight on his belt, he illuminated the pitch-black interior and saw remnants of the cargo ship the Kraken had swallowed—some containers had not yet been fully digested.
The Kraken’s potent digestive fluids had no effect on him, though the stench was overwhelming.
His wrist receiver lit again. The reptile omega sent some trivial updates.
It reported that Lab 109 had developed a new method for categorizing experimental subjects. They had stolen the data. If Bai Chunian wanted to review it, he would need to agree to meet them in person later.
Without hesitation, Bai Chunian agreed.
The file arrived.
It contained a revised method for classifying experimental subjects’ growth stages—
The growth stages of special operations experimental subjects are divided into larval, cultivation, mature, and deteriorated stages. After years of research, scientists have now subdivided the mature stage into ten levels: Level 1 Mature, Level 2 Mature… and so on. Once an experimental subject reaches Level 10 Mature and evolves again, it enters the Free State. If evolution occurs before reaching Level 10 Mature, it enters the Deteriorated stage.
The combat power ranking for each stage is as follows: Free State > Deteriorated > Mature (Levels 10–1) > Cultivation > Larval.
The reptile omega reported that, based on precise calculations, the growth stage of the Elephant Stealther is Level 1 Mature, Clown Samuel is Level 2 Mature, and the Kraken is around Level 3 Mature.
This meant that the Kraken would be harder to deal with than the first two mature subjects.
“And me?” Bai Chunian asked.
“About Level 9,” the reptile replied. “Lan Bo in his mature state is around Level 7, though he has currently regressed to the cultivation stage.”
Bai Chunian responded via voice, “Your useless intel just gave me unnecessary confidence. Give me something useful.”
The reptile omega said, “The Kraken has three hearts. Each tentacle can think independently. No bones. It’s a highly intelligent organism.”
“Weak points?” Bai Chunian asked.
“None. But also no real advantages, except it eats. The lab created it to handle medical waste. Later they realized it kept growing, the ecological tank couldn’t contain it, so they sold it cheaply to the Red-throated Bird organization for disposal.”
Bai Chunian waded through the partially digested blue containers, shining a powerful flashlight. Some were already open, revealing corpses dissolved by digestive fluids.
Transporting corpses in containers? He squatted and sifted through them for clues.
Some corpses still had experimental uniforms intact. The red triangular emblem on the chest plate indicated they belonged to Lab 109.
“Patients subjected to live experiments?” Bai Chunian approached a sealed container. Using his reinforced skeletal strength, he tore open the nailed-shut metal. He already had a rough idea of what was inside and stepped back two paces while opening it.
A stench of rot hit his nose. Decomposed flesh tumbled out with melting ice, mixing with seawater and blood in a loud splash.
One nearly intact corpse floated face down at his feet.
Bai Chunian flipped it over. The instant he saw the face, it felt like someone had twisted his heart.
It was his own face. The other corpses were identical too, even sharing similar pheromones—a putrid brandy-like scent.
He froze for a moment, then opened other containers, half-expecting to see other clones, but every single one was himself.
He suddenly understood why Lan Bo had tried to stop him from coming.
His thoughts scrambled, Bai Chunian tried to piece together the clues. If the Kraken’s target was merely corpses carrying his pheromone scent, it might have mistaken him for one of them, triggering its sudden attack.
He should have immediately photographed and sent the evidence to the Alliance tech division—but he hesitated.
If these photos were sent… Bai Chunian painfully clutched his head, crouching in the waist-deep water.
A blinding light suddenly shone on him. Bai Chunian forced his eyes open to see Lan Bo holding a transparent hydrosteel chainsaw. It buzzed as Lan Bo cut through the Kraken’s body, light illuminating him from behind.
Lan Bo dragged him out of the Kraken’s stomach. Sea water rushed into the giant creature’s stomach through the wound. The swallowed containers and corpses scattered into the ocean. Countless corpses bearing Bai Chunian’s face floated in blood-red water. Lan Bo weaved through the corpse sea, holding Bai Chunian as they swam to the surface.
“Did you see them? That’s me,” Bai Chunian asked, exhausted.
“En,” Lan Bo replied, eyes fixed ahead.
“Do you think I’m one of them?”
“Kimo nowakneya.” (You are unique.)
The Kraken’s tentacle wounds healed rapidly. It relentlessly pursued them. Lan Bo swung up a transparent hydrosteel quad rocket launcher, attaching M2 high-explosive water bombs. Four shots were fired in rapid succession, indiscriminately striking the Kraken. It was knocked out of the water by successive impacts, crashing back down and splashing massive waves.
Bai Chunian gulped in air at the surface. The suffocation left his mind ringing, his hearing muffled as if under a cloth.
The young man from Havana swam over, grabbing his wrist. “Brother, you okay?”
Bai Chunian wiped his face. “I’m fine.” The sample had been collected; what remained was the concern of the South American Alliance agents.
Lan Bo floated beside him, holding Bai Chunian’s arm, glaring unfriendly at the alpha.
“Wow, we have such a beautiful agent on our ship?” The alpha looked him over, peering beneath the water to see Lan Bo’s slender waist merging into a long translucent tail, shimmering brilliantly.
“Sea demon!” The alpha’s face paled. He let go of Bai Chunian, retreating in panic, yelling, “It’s wrapped around you, get over here!”
“Don’t worry, this is my wife.” Bai Chunian grasped Lan Bo’s delicate hand, spreading his fins to display him. “Very obedient.”
Lan Bo’s gaze grew fiercer.
It got worse. A corpse floated up near the young man from Havana.
The alpha recoiled in terror. More corpses surfaced, some not fully decomposed, all bearing Bai Chunian’s face with Lab 109 emblems on their chests.
His gaze shifted toward Bai Chunian, eyes blazing with hostility. He said firmly, “You’re a spy.”
Bai Chunian drew a deep breath. “I’m not. I have credentials—IOA Headquarters, Special Operations Unit, Search Division. Official staff, got it?”
The alpha sneered, producing a waterproof pistol from his waist and pointing it at Bai Chunian’s head. “Does the chairman know your identity, or are you deceiving him?”
Lan Bo, unable to restrain himself any longer, lashed out with his tail, wrapping it around the Havana agent’s neck and hoisting him from the water.
“Enough. Can I even explain this to you?” Bai Chunian pressed down on Lan Bo, “Let’s go.”
“Anyway, I’ve collected all the blood and cell samples,” Bai Chunian said casually. “The South American division can handle the local experimental subjects themselves.”
Lan Bo coldly relaxed his tail and swam back to Bai Chunian’s side.
The alpha, having just returned to the water, whispered a threat: “Don’t move.” Then he suddenly pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. Bai Chunian instinctively tilted his head; the bullet did not strike the back of his skull but pierced his shoulder.
The wound in his shoulder visibly closed almost immediately.
“Experimental subject…” the Havana agent growled, “I suspected you were trouble back on the ship. Tell me, what’s your objective?”
Bai Chunian, back turned, lightly touched the healed shoulder and let out a self-mocking smile. “Am I about to be retired?”
He had only recently earned the IOA Free Bird medal; at this rate, it would soon be revoked. The chairman alone could not counter public opinion. Even if he were dismissed, Bai Chunian understood.
A loud notification buzzed simultaneously from the communicators on their waists. They pulled them from the water and shook off the water to receive the orders.
Every agent on the ship received the directive personally transmitted by the IOA South American Division Chairman:
“Mission target for this Special Operations Unit: eliminate Experimental Subject 809, Kraken.”
“Reinforcement helicopter arriving in fifteen minutes. Headquarters has transferred full command of this operation to Bai Chunian. All other agents follow his orders and assist in the operation.”
The Havana agent pressed the communicator, shouting in disbelief, “He’s an experimental subject spy! Are you insane?!”
The division responded, “All plans are decided by Headquarters. Execute the orders.”
Lan Bo raised his eyebrows in surprise. Bai Chunian gripped the communicator, eyes calm, Adam’s apple subtly moving.