IOA headquarters issued an urgent mission and simultaneously requested assistance from PBB. Bai Chunian and He Suowei almost simultaneously pushed open their dorm doors, exchanging a glance that said they already understood the situation.
Bai Chunian buttoned his shirt while asking, “How many people are you sending over there?”
He Suowei glanced at his watch. “For a reconnaissance operation like this, we can’t show ourselves. You’ll have to infiltrate, and we’ll provide support from outside.”
“Understood.”
The PBB special forces represented the stance of a military base; without concrete evidence, they couldn’t launch a raid. IOA’s operatives were different—they specialized in tasks that everyone pretended not to do openly, but secretly everyone was doing.
The Berna Pharmaceutical Factory was built in a secluded village on a tropical island. Most people didn’t even know it existed. Its location offered naturally enclosed and hidden terrain, cheap labor, and land suitable for cultivating rare medicinal herbs.
According to the intel sent back by IOA’s covert agents, the Berna Factory was a circular structure with three concentric rings. The closer to the center, the stricter the security. The outer ring handled patented and legally sold medicines, while the activities in the inner rings were unknown.
This time, Bai Chunian brought more people, dividing them into two teams. One team was led by Han Xingqian, accompanied by Ying, Xiao Xun, and Lu Yan. The other was led by Bai Chunian himself, with Lan Bo, Bi Lanxing, and the hydrogen-oxygen twins assisting. They approached the island by helicopter, staying in constant contact through micro-communicators.
With Han Xingqian’s M2 “Wind Eye” ability providing signal cover, the helicopter approached the island undetected, slipping in under the cover of night.
“Check your watches,” Bai Chunian said as he activated his earpiece. “Let’s get in and see what’s going on.”
“Understood,” Han Xingqian replied.
Bai Chunian turned to Lan Bo. “Turn off your tail light. Don’t give us away.”
“Troublesome,” Lan Bo muttered, flicking his tail. The dim blue glow running through his tailbone went out.
“Lanxing.”
Hearing his name, Bi Lanxing immediately straightened. “Yes?”
“Oh, don’t be nervous. How do you think we should get inside?”
Bi Lanxing thought carefully. “I’ve seen the map. The factory has six entrances. The F entrance is near a corridor; we can… go in through F.”
“What about the security systems?” Bai Chunian asked.
“Temporarily short-circuited. The outer layer’s security shouldn’t be too strict,” Bi Lanxing replied.
“Good. You lead,” Bai Chunian stepped back to give him room.
“Me?” Bi Lanxing stiffened. “I have no combat experience.”
“Then here’s your chance.” Bai Chunian placed his hands on Bi Lanxing’s shoulders, nudging him forward. “I taught you tactics for a reason. You can’t always rely on me. Relax—I’m right behind you. I’ll alert you if anything happens.”
Bi Lanxing took a few deep breaths, pressed the micro-communicator, and said in a steady voice, “Bi Lanxing taking command of the comm line.”
Though his voice wavered slightly from nerves, he carried himself with a semblance of authority, earning Bai Chunian’s approval.
The F entrance was typically used for trucks carrying goods. Security was sparse and closer to the internal warehouse. As long as they avoided the infrared sensors, they could pass through.
Lan Bo silently climbed along the outside wall, reaching the F entrance. He was responsible for incapacitating the guards and short-circuiting the monitoring equipment.
Bai Chunian and the others waited in hiding. Soon, Lan Bo returned.
“That fast?”
“No one was there. The infrared sensors were down. The system showed a clear path when I walked through.” He spread his hands, revealing a leather cardholder. “I found this on the ground and picked it up.”
Bai Chunian examined it. It was a common leather badge holder meant for a security card—but the card was gone.
“Someone beat us here?” he speculated. “Or is this a trap? That shouldn’t be possible—the mission details couldn’t have leaked so fast.”
Bi Lanxing hesitated. “Chu-ge, do we go in?”
“You decide. You’re in command.” Bai Chunian pocketed the cardholder.
After a moment of weighing the options, Bi Lanxing decided to advance a little further to assess the situation. The outer layer of the Berna Factory was just ordinary reinforced concrete. Even if they triggered a trap, they had the means to retreat safely.
Entering through the F entrance, the corridor was empty. The lights were on, and a one-meter-tall plaster statue stood by the door as decoration—a metal-like hourglass held by an angel. The sand inside still flowed.
“This is quite artistic,” Bai Chunian sincerely praised. “If I take it back to Uncle Jin, he’ll love it.”
Bi Lanxing contacted Han Xingqian. “We’re at F entrance. Has the monitoring room been secured?”
“I’m in the monitoring room. I see you. Everything’s going smoothly—no one in sight. Feels odd,” Han Xingqian replied.
“Keep an eye on the cameras and find us a safe path.” Bi Lanxing led the hydrogen-oxygen twins into the warehouse near the entrance, while Bai Chunian and Lan Bo investigated the corner warehouse.
The warehouse was dimly lit, with shelves and miscellaneous items scattered on the floor. Bai Chunian picked up Lan Bo’s tail, bent it to generate a spark, and used it as a flashlight.
“Be careful. Don’t trip.”
“As long as you don’t hold my tail, I won’t fall.”
In the corner was a table and chair set, with an inventory logbook on the desk. Bai Chunian placed Lan Bo’s tail over the paper to illuminate it and began flipping through the entries from the most recent date.
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The latest record was from that morning: the cafeteria had received a fresh shipment of fruits—everything imaginable. Being a tropical island, fruit was cheap and plentiful, costing almost nothing.
Recent outgoing shipments, by contrast, were all ordinary medicines. The logbook was thick, but Bai Chunian was a fast reader. Flipping back two years, among a tangle of obscure drug names, he spotted one that stood out:
“Wangliang Hourglass.”
Bai Chunian had a remarkable memory—he’d heard that name before, from He Suowei. He had mentioned that in a document obtained during the ATWL exam, a lab report referenced “Special Operations Weapon 613, Wangliang Hourglass.”
The experimental subject code began with 6, indicating a non-living prototype; 1 for 10% mimicry, and 3 for alteration-type ability.
Lan Bo couldn’t contribute much to tasks requiring intelligence. Bored, he wandered around and noticed a water dispenser. He was thirsty, so he grabbed a paper cup to fill it.
The disposable cups here were unusual—narrow at the top and wide at the base, the opposite of normal cups. But it didn’t stop him from drinking. He elegantly pressed the cold water lever, waiting for the stream to fill the cup.
Instead of water, a stream of sand poured out.
Lan Bo stared at the cup, now full of sand, dumbfounded. He tossed it aside, removed the water reservoir, drank directly from it, and finally “ate” the remaining sand in the bucket.
“What did you find over there?” Bai Chunian asked.
Bi Lanxing replied, “There’s an old newspaper from last year on the wall. It says that Qiu Wanzong, founder of the Wanzong Group, had a son at eighty. A paternity test confirmed it was his biological child.”
“Ah…” Bai Chunian wasn’t particularly surprised—he’d seen stranger things. Typically, in old-man-young-wife scenarios, if a young wife had a child from an affair, it would be considered scandalous. Odd that this was publicly celebrated in a newspaper.
“Anything else?”
“Nope. Nothing else in the storage room. There’s a mango on the desk that’s been there a long time; it’s shriveled.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Bi Lanxing suggested.
“Don’t move. Stay put.”
Han Xingqian’s voice came through the communicator.
Everyone tensed, holding their breath and ducking behind the nearest cover.
Han Xingqian stared at the surveillance screens. The camera nearest to Bai Chunian’s group faced the angel statue at the door. On the screen, the hourglass in the angel’s hands gradually emptied, and two skulls wearing security hats appeared inside.
The plaster covering of the angel slowly cracked and fell away like flowing sand. Its arms and legs stretched, opening the lid of the hourglass and forcefully crushing the two terrified skulls. Bone and hat were ground into snow-white sand, slowly trickling through the narrow middle of the hourglass.