At eight in the evening, Lan Bo lounged in the fish tank watching a drama, holding a bowl of jellyfish salad.
During a commercial break, a news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen, reporting that two terrorists had blown up the upper sphere of the Pearl Tower. Fortunately, they had arrogantly issued a warning beforehand, allowing authorities to evacuate the area in advance—no casualties.
“Hmph. What kind of idiot would do something so pointless?” Lan Bo muttered. Still, he found human news oddly entertaining and switched channels to watch more closely.
It was already dark, and the reporters’ shaky footage couldn’t make out the faces of the figures high up on the tower—only the thick smoke from the explosion.
But others might not recognize him.
Lan Bo did.
Plop. The bowl of jellyfish slipped back into the tank.
—
At that same time, Yan Yi was in his dining room, mixing a vegetable salad at the counter, while Lu Shangjin sat beside him browsing investment reports on his laptop.
His phone suddenly rang urgently. Yan Yi glanced at the caller ID. “My hands are wet—answer it for me.”
Lu Shangjin turned on speaker.
Lan Bo’s deep, imposing voice came through:
“Yan—Yi—look what you’ve let my poor, delicate, helpless Xiao Bai do!”
Yan Yi: “…”
—
Every Friday at eight, the underground arena opened on schedule.
Despite its name, this fighting arena had stricter rules than most illegal rings. Located in Aphid City, any excessive misconduct would be like courting disaster, so they prohibited child abuse and slave trading. Only formal matches were allowed—fighters signed life-and-death contracts before entering the ring, wagers were agreed upon in advance, and there was no cheating or reneging.
Even so, business thrived. Aphid City was full of wealthy elites eager to spend lavishly for entertainment. Though society had stabilized compared to fifteen years ago, the belief that strength ruled all remained deeply ingrained. Simply put, some people just loved watching brutal fights to the death.
Rumor had it the arena’s owner had extensive connections, both financial and political—even occasionally linked to Lu Shangjin. Few dared to cause trouble, which only made business smoother.
Two young alphas entered the lavish reception hall. Two burly guards blocked their way. “Please present your VIP membership cards.”
“Don’t have one.” Eris shot one of them dead and walked inside.
The other guard stood frozen, blood splattered across him—clearly not used to such incidents.
Bai Chunian pulled a VIP card from his pocket and placed it in the guard’s hand. “I do.”
The two of them walked straight into the arena without obstruction. Alarm sirens blared as the guard frantically shouted into the phone: “Two armed intruders! Yes! Around six-one! Both alphas—one looks foreign! That’s right, the same terrorists you’re hunting!”
Inside, the audience continued cheering wildly, completely unaware of what was happening outside.
On the ring, one fighter finally collapsed into a pool of blood, while the victor proudly displayed his massive physique to the crowd.
This was the arena’s undefeated champion—an African elephant alpha known as Butcher. Backed by an entire company, he was the owner’s cash cow, competing across arenas worldwide without a single loss.
Standing nearly eight feet tall, his sheer size alone overwhelmed opponents. Combined with his formidable fighting skills, none of his challengers had ever left the ring intact—dead or crippled. Even when opponents surrendered, he sometimes refused to stop, earning penalties but never tarnishing his reputation.
Tonight, word of Butcher’s challenge in Aphid City had drawn wealthy elites eager for a spectacle.
After knocking out two opponents in a row, hesitation spread among the other fighters’ sponsors. No one wanted to send their expensive fighters into certain defeat. Despite the host’s efforts to hype the crowd, the atmosphere grew awkward, and the audience became restless.
The arena was thick with smoke and noise. Eris grew excited at first, then nudged Bai Chunian with his elbow. “So this is your ‘good place’? How do we play?”
Bai Chunian tilted his chin toward the ring. “See that African elephant alpha? He’s already killed two opponents. Now he’s waiting for someone to challenge him. That number on the screen behind him—that’s the prize money if you beat him.”
Eris pointed at the number on the screen, counting the zeros with his finger. “So many zeros. I could buy a subway card.”
“More than that—you could buy plenty,” Bai Chunian said, thoughtfully helping him take off his coat. “In a place like this, no one scolds you for anything. If you win, they even applaud you.”
“Woohoo, that good? No one’s ever applauded me before.” Eris was eager to try. Bai Chunian lowered his head to roll up his sleeves and reminded him, “Remember—once you’re up there, no using your differentiation ability. Hand-to-hand only. Otherwise, even if you win, they won’t pay you.”
“Hmph. For a slow lump like that elephant, I don’t need any abilities.” Eris planted one hand on the platform and vaulted lightly into the ring.
The moment someone stepped onto the stage, the crowd reignited. When they realized it was a tall, slender, pale-skinned boy, the screams grew even more shrill and frenzied, flowers raining down onto Eris.
He had never seen anything like this—applause and cheers all for him. He blew kisses to the crowd. “I’m Eris! I’ll beat the shit out of him~”
The audience roared louder, the sound nearly shaking the ceiling.
Not bad—this kid had a natural talent for hyping a crowd. Bai Chunian folded his arms and watched from below. He was already bored of fighting matches. To this day, in pure close combat without abilities, the only person he acknowledged was Instructor Dai Ning from the training base.
Dai Ning was the only human who had ever beaten him barehanded. The instructors at the base had all been top-tier agents before retiring. It wasn’t that the president refused to let them leave—it was that they had made too many enemies. Keeping them on Aphid Island was the safest way to let them live out their lives.
Bai Chunian shook his head. Somehow, he always ended up thinking about them.
While he was distracted, the match had already begun. Butcher dismissed his small opponent with contempt, snorting as he lunged forward with both fists.
Eris dodged with ease. He grabbed Butcher’s arm—thick as his own waist—swung lightly around, and slipped behind him. His arm locked around Butcher’s neck from behind, tightening as he let out a chilling, manic laugh.
For a professional fighter, a rear chokehold was normally easy to break—but Butcher couldn’t shake him off. That seemingly slender body contained explosive strength, the arm around his throat like unyielding steel.
Butcher threw himself backward, trying to crush Eris beneath his full weight. But the moment his back hit the ground, Eris shifted—tightening the choke from the front, springing upward, then dropping hard with a laugh, slamming down onto Butcher’s stomach.
Butcher spat out a mouthful of blood.
There was no suspense in this fight. In just three rounds, both of Butcher’s legs and one arm were broken. Screaming, he was carried off the ring.
The stage was buried under flowers thrown from the audience. Eris sprawled in the sea of blossoms, inhaling their scent in a daze, then tore off petals and tossed them back to the crowd.
His arrival drove everyone into a frenzy—but the Red-Throat Bird tattoo on his exposed arm was also fully visible.
Ordinary people might not recognize it, but the audience here—many with ties to power and wealth—certainly did.
Butcher’s sponsor stared at the tattoo, his fists clenched white. This match had cost him tens of millions. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, “Red-Throat Bird… just you wait…”
Bai Chunian was very satisfied with that reaction. He cleared his throat and coaxed, “Not going to pick a few more opponents from the crowd?”
Unexpectedly, Eris refused. He was busy hugging flowers and shaking hands with the audience. Turning back, he asked, “Why would I? Look—they like me. This place you brought me to is amazing. From now on, you’re my big brother.”
Bai Chunian choked on his words for a moment, then lit a cigarette. “Suit yourself.”
He checked the time. It should be about right now.
The international police would arrive first to arrest Eris, then detain him, and finally transfer him under international prison custody. That would give Bai Chunian a legitimate way into the prison. Without chaos on this scale—without casualties—the prison wouldn’t even bother.
Faint sirens were already approaching outside.
Bai Chunian watched Eris coldly and reached out, placing a hand toward his shoulder.
From his self-introduction, it was clear Eris accepted that name subjectively. Bai Chunian’s M2 ability—Annihilation—would definitely work on him.
Just as he was about to make contact, the heavy thrum of helicopter rotors sounded overhead. A loudspeaker blared:
“You are surrounded by the PBB Storm Unit. Drop your weapons immediately and cease resistance!”
Bai Chunian froze. He knew that voice all too well—it was He Suowei.
“Damn it, didn’t the Storm Unit withdraw from Port M?” Bai Chunian crushed his cigarette underfoot and glanced at Eris, whose eyes lit up as he raised his shotgun again.
He lunged to grab him—but Eris slipped away, muttering nervously, “Don’t touch me. I’m covered in my followers’ kisses.”
Bai Chunian was speechless.
“It’s PBB! I want to fight them.” Clutching his gun, Eris dashed out.
“Get back here! Damn it!” Bai Chunian chased after him, but there was no time to access He Suowei’s comm channel. He could only murmur urgently, “Tech team—jam PBB’s signal. No time to report to HQ. Tell Lao He to pull his men out—I’ve got this under control.”
The Storm Unit didn’t have the authority to carry large amounts of specialized anesthetics like the international police or prison. Without those, provoking Eris would lead to catastrophic casualties—far beyond the few people he had already killed.
Eris had already clashed with the Storm Unit, still treating it like a game, clearly not taking it seriously yet. Bai Chunian hurriedly scanned the chaos for He Suowei.
A helicopter landed in front of him.
He Suowei, clad in PBB-marked riot armor, camo helmet, and goggles, jumped down with a submachine gun. Swearing loudly, he reached out to Bai Chunian:
“What the hell are you doing stirring up this mess? Get up here—we’ll handle this.”
Bai Chunian instinctively wanted to go after him, but he suddenly stopped, staring for a long time as Eris moved. After a while, he bent down, picked up a shard of broken glass, and—right in front of He Suowei—slashed his own forearm, holding it out for him to see.
The sharp edge of the glass carved a deep, bleeding gash into his arm, which then healed before their eyes at a visible speed.
Proof of an experimental subject.
He Suowei froze for a moment, caught off guard by the gesture.
Police vehicles from the International Bureau had arrived, sirens blaring. They had grenades specially designed for dealing with experimental subjects, and they targeted Eris, firing round after round.
The grenades exploded on impact, deafening in sound, the shockwave flipping several cars. The opulent arena’s glass shattered and fell.
Large chunks of glass and heavy signage crashed down from above Bai Chunian.
It didn’t matter—he wouldn’t die. After a whole day of chaos, he was tired, both mentally and physically.
A heavy force threw him two meters back. He Suowei, clad in full riot and bulletproof armor, caught him. Before Bai Chunian could react, he felt the butt of a gun against his stomach.
He Suowei swore, “I’ve raised two unlucky kids just like you—they’ve contributed to world peace, earned recognition from the unit, medals, ranks. You can choose to oppose us on the battlefield, but self-destruction is cowardice. I don’t respect that.”
Bai Chunian blinked. This massive, straight-shooting alpha still didn’t know his plan. But he had already inferred the connection between PBB and IOA.
Now, though, was not the time to reveal everything.
“Don’t lecture me. I haven’t even used species-suppressing abilities to hurt your pride,” Bai Chunian said, lying back and flashing a toothy grin. “It’s not that you look down on me—you just can’t see through me.”