The elevator passed the floor where the inspection department was located and reached the top level of the Allied Technical Division building. The technical department occupied five floors in total, four of which were fully open-plan spaces filled with precision instruments and equipment. Each floor was heavily guarded, with patrol security and mobile surveillance far stricter than even the chairman’s office.
Duan Yang was now the technical department’s leading authority. Once someone became valuable, they naturally came with a long list of privileges, and the higher-ups were happy to accommodate him. If he wanted a private server room, they would immediately assign him a dedicated office area. The equipment inside was all his precious tools—just a single computer, when broken down into parts, cost nearly a million. He rarely allowed anyone into that office; even standing at the doorway for a glance would earn a scolding from him, as if someone were trying to steal his wife.
That said, it made sense. Duan Yang had studied under K, and his abilities were far from ordinary. Instructor K had retired and gone to the Ant Nest Island Special Training Base, where he continued mentoring Duan Yang’s younger brother. In a few more years, the technical department would likely gain another outstanding young talent.
Bai Chunian searched the public server rooms but didn’t find Duan Yang. He then went to his private server room as well. The door wasn’t locked—it opened easily with a push.
He hadn’t originally intended to go in, knowing Duan Yang was particular about his space. If Duan Yang found out he had entered without permission, he would likely come knocking on his door in fury.
But once the door opened, Bai Chunian saw Duan Yang slumped asleep at his desk. Even more surprising was that beside him, another omega was also asleep—wearing a bright yellow caterpillar hoodie with the hood pulled up over their head. Both looked completely exhausted, likely having worked late into the night.
Unbelievable. Even someone who couldn’t normally step foot into Duan Yang’s office—the department’s celebrated beauty—was here. This little omega definitely had some connections.
Duan Yang’s phone buzzed on the desk. He reached out lazily, fumbled for it, and answered while still slumped over.
“Who is it?”
Bai Chunian poked his head out from behind the computer and waved the phone he was holding: “It’s me.”
Duan Yang jumped in surprise, banging his head on the corner of the CD rack on top of the computer. The noise woke up the reptile beside him, and he sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry,” Bai Chunian chuckled. “I’m here to thank you for the files. Since you guys just woke up, how about grabbing some breakfast?”
The cafeteria’s buffet offered different dishes every day. Bai Chunian didn’t take anything else; he just picked out twenty boiled shrimp and placed them on his tray. He found a seat and gave them a gentle wave.
Duan Yang was still half-asleep, with a few strands of hair sticking up in disarray. He sat down groggily across from Bai Chunian and yawned.
Crawler walked over with his tray and stood between the two of them, hesitating. Bai Chunian propped his head up, squinting at him with a suggestive look, showing no intention of helping him out of the awkward situation. He wanted to see if the Crawler would choose to sit on his side or Duan Yang’s.
Duan Yang finally snapped out of it in time and patted the seat next to him: “Crawler, sit here.”
Bai Chunian: “Haha.”
The reptile remained impassive, gritting his teeth inwardly as he sat down next to Duan Yang and bowed his head to eat in silence.
Bai Chunian propped his chin with one hand while using the tip of his chopsticks to peel shrimp shells with the other, listening to Duan Yang recount yesterday’s thrilling tale.
“That submarine’s defense system was exceptionally well-designed; it took me quite some time to get the data sent over to you.”
“And what about the defense system you thought was impossible to breach?” Bai Chunnian asked.
“He built it.” Duan Yang glanced at the Reptile, who was silently eating beside him. “The research institute created him with the original intention of taking security to the next level, but… well, it’s still a bit rough around the edges.”
The Reptile didn’t retort this time; it seemed he agreed with Duan Yang’s assessment. Bai Chunian remembered that the Reptile had always been confident and proud of his own skills, so it appeared Duan Yang had just put him in his place. One look at his expression was enough to tell his pride had taken a serious hit.
“By the way, in the files I sent you, there’s an original English version of the test subject destruction log. He managed to steal it from the lab at the last minute—it was a huge help.” Duan Yang knew Bai Chunian was completely clueless when it came to computers; explaining too many technical details would only confuse him, so he kept the explanation as simple as possible.
“Oh…” Bai Chunian looked at Crawler. “Thanks, Crawler.”
Crawler choked on a mouthful of milk, his face turning bright red.
Duan Yang said with concern from the side, “Just have a little snack to help clear your throat.” He was met with a roll of the eyes. “Anyway,” Duan Yang said proudly, “aside from that submarine keeping me on my toes all night, there really haven’t been any challenging missions lately.”
“There is.” Bai Chunian’s eyes crinkled into slits. Right in front of Crawler, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket—it had an address written on it—and pushed it toward them. “How about this?”
Duan Yang glanced at it, looked surprised for a moment, then chuckled in a low voice. “That’s actually interesting. We’ll still have to go through the proper mission authorization process. Send it to me.”
“The mission brief hasn’t come down yet.”
Duan Yang froze. “What the hell? You’re actually taking the liberty of making this decision on your own?” Although Bai Chunian’s status in the Alliance’s Special Operations Unit meant his word carried as much weight as the unit leader’s, this was the first time he’d dared to bypass Team Leader Cang and the Chairman to make a decision on his own.
“Don’t worry. The mission brief will come, and so will the bonus. We’ve worked together for so many years—have I ever lied to you?”
Bai Chunian looked utterly confident, and Duan Yang finally felt a little reassured.
“…Hmm… Alright then, let’s agree on this: I’ll go collect the bonus, but if the President gets angry and comes after me, you’re not allowed to mention my name.”
Bai Chunian agreed immediately.
“Alright. I’ll take a look. When do you need it?” Duan Yang tucked the note into his pocket. “Make sure you get that mission brief sorted out ASAP.”
“No rush. I’ll take my time.” Bai Chunian glanced leisurely at the Reptile. “If you’re going to help someone, you might as well see it through. You two seem to work well together—with your help, it should go much faster.”
“No need for him.” Duan Yang waved his hand. “I can handle it myself.”
The Reptile shot him a look that said he didn’t know his place: “The security here is way more complex and tight than in the submarine lab. Don’t come begging me for help later.”
“No way. If I have to beg you, I’m a dog.”
“Alright, I’ll wait for your update.” Bai Chunian grabbed a disposable food container, arranged the twenty peeled shrimp in order inside, sealed it up, then cast a pitying glance at Duan Yang—who was single by choice—before taking his leave.
Back at the apartment, Lan Bo was still napping at the bottom of the fish tank.
He was sleeping in a half-curled position in the corner of the tank, tiny bubbles rising from the junction of his cheek and ear and floating toward the surface. After living together for so long, Bai Chunian realized for the first time that he actually had gills—they were just too inconspicuous to be easily noticed.
Bai Chunian didn’t wake him. He set the lunchbox down quietly and tiptoed to the bathroom to take off his shirt and wash his hair. The Alpha in the mirror before him felt somewhat unfamiliar. Although his appearance hadn’t changed drastically, he had undergone an evolution from bone to skin. The most interesting part was that his hair stayed clean without needing to be washed; some of Lan Bo’s purifying abilities had been inherited along with the increasing number of gifts bestowed upon him.
As he examined his reflection, a pair of fair-skinned arms suddenly reached around from behind, resting on his abs and slowly tracing upward. Fingertips hooked the black crystal-like collar, and a face peeked out from over Bai Chunian’s shoulder, cool lips brushing lightly against his shoulder.
“You look great like this, pretty kitty,” Lan Bo murmured in his ear, wrapping his arms around him from behind.
Bai Chunian immediately shook off that subtle sense of unease and began to feel good about his appearance. He suddenly noticed that Lan Bo’s arms weren’t bandaged; turning to look, he saw that Lan Bo was bare-chested, his hands resting on Bai Chunian’s shoulders.
A rush of heat surged through him. Bai Chunian struggled to hold back, and though he managed to suppress his reaction physically, two fluffy white lion ears still poked out from between his hair.
He raised his hand to push them back, but Lan Bo stopped him.
Lan Bo grabbed his wrist: “You don’t have to hold back in front of me.”
“I want to kiss you,” Bai Chunian said, turning his head away, his ears twitching.
Lan Bo raised an eyebrow slightly: “Aren’t I just an ugly goblin?”
Bai Chunian: “Ah, that was an accident. I didn’t know it was you singing; I thought it was an imposter, but I was still captivated.”
Lan Bo: “So I’m the fool?”
Bai Chunian: “…I’m the fool.”
“We kissed yesterday.” Lan Bo’s fingertips gently traced the scar on the Alpha’s chest. “In your true form, your tongue was so big and rough. You just kept licking and licking—I had to yank your collar to make you stop. You even licked off two scales.”
“Oh…” Bai Chunian drooped his ears.
“But your kissing skills are still great.” Lan Bo pressed his face close to Bai Chunian’s and nuzzled him.
Bai Chunian perked his ears up again, delighted, and pulled Lan Bo into a kiss.
“Give me the list.” Bai Chunian held him tightly, pressing him against the bathroom tiles and whispered, “The list of researchers who administered the mimicry serum, as well as those involved in the follow-up surgeries and treatments. If you don’t remember their names, just describe their appearances to me.”
“The mastermind isn’t among them.”
“When one person commits a crime, his hands and feet are merely following orders, yet they’re forced to die alongside him. That’s just unreasonable.”
“True.”
“Come here. I’ll teach you how to forge Dead Sea Heartstone.” Lan Bo pulled him out of the bathroom. Bai Chunian saw the lion emblem covering his entire back and felt a strange sense of belonging and security well up inside him. He couldn’t help but cling to him again, wrapping his arms around him from behind and gently licking his neck.
“Watch closely.” Lan Bo sat down on the bed in the bedroom, opened his right palm, and a surge of energy released from his palm. The collar around Bai Chunian’s neck immediately melted into a liquid, flowing into Lan Bo’s palm.
Bai Chunian followed suit, extending his left hand and opening his palm.
Lan Bo shot him a glance.
Bai Chunian drooped his ears as if he’d been caught red-handed by his elementary school calligraphy teacher and said, “I’m left-handed. Is that a problem?”
“It’s fine.” Lan Bo switched to his left hand, channeling the liquid Dead Sea Heartstone from his right hand into his palm, and explained calmly, “To forge a weapon from Dead Sea Heartstone, you must first visualize its internal structure clearly in your mind, then begin solidifying it from one end until the weapon takes shape.”
A translucent black tactical dagger took shape from its tip and landed in Lan Bo’s hand. He gripped it with his left hand in a reverse grip; as the blade’s edge traced an arc, half the green leaves of the pearl orchid by the bed were sliced off mid-air. The remaining leaves withered instantly, turning to ash along with the soil in the pot, which then fused into the dagger. This was not the result of a toxin, but because the Dead Sea Heart Rock—formed from the remains of creatures from the deep sea—could absorb life force like a black hole.
Like the silk bomb casings of the golden threadworm, the wounds inflicted by Dead Sea Heart Rock on test subjects are extremely difficult to heal.
“Because Dead Sea Heart Rock is far harder to control than water, it’s impossible to cast mechanical cores with the precision of water-hardened steel, so we can only make bladed weapons.” Lan Bo tossed the dagger to him. “Give it a try.”
“Got it. Like 3D printing.” Bai Chunian caught the dagger, closed his eyes, and strained to visualize it. The dagger in his hand gradually melted, transforming into a different shape.
A lopsided frying pan landed in Bai Chunian’s hand.
Lan Bo: “…The principle is correct. Very good.”
“There are quite a few weapons that can be forged from Dead Sea Heartstone.” Lan Bo took back the lopsided frying pan, melted it in his hand, and demonstrated other possible forms to Bai Chunian.
Sickles, axes, long staffs, barbed wire batons, beast bite-stoppers, and chains—various forms shifted rapidly under the manipulation of his slender fingertips, a dazzling spectacle to behold.
“With more practice, you’ll soon get the hang of it. As long as you can forge three forms—the sickle, the bite-stopper, and the collar—that will be enough for you.” ” Lan Bo placed the Dead Sea Heart Rock in his hand and went to the shoe cabinet to retrieve the shrimp that Bai Chunian had brought back from the cafeteria.
Just as he returned to the bedroom with the plastic lunchbox, he heard Bai Chunian call out to him: “Honey, I’ve got it! Look, is this how it’s done?”
Lan Bo looked over at the sound. In Bai Chunian’s hands, the Dead Sea Heart Rock suddenly molded into a statue of David, then melted, only to immediately solidify from the bottom up into a “Horse Trampling a Swallow” figurine. It melted again, transforming into “The Little Mermaid,” and melted once more, casting itself into a 3D replica of “Girl with a Pearl Earring.”
Lan Bo: “?”