About ten days had passed, and reports of accidental deaths on the news seemed to have inexplicably increased. The police had also noticed something amiss and launched an investigation. All evidence pointed to accidental causes of death, with no signs of foul play, so the possibility of homicide had to be ruled out.
However, the police department was not short of seasoned veteran officers. After a thorough investigation, they discovered that the only commonality among the deceased was that they had all once worked at a breeding facility affiliated with the 109 Research Institute in Hongli City. The first to leave was a Salamander Alpha, who had been transferred away from the breeding facility three years prior and was working as an obstetrician at Hongli City Hospital at the time of his death.
Lacking further leads, the police investigation has hit a dead end. Although they intuitively sense that someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes, they still have no place to start. If this is indeed a homicide, then the killer’s counter-surveillance skills are downright terrifying—to be able to eliminate so many people so efficiently in such a short time without leaving a single trace is not something an ordinary terrorist could accomplish.
Generally speaking, if there are clear patterns of overlap among the victims, it cannot be a random act of terrorism. Therefore, if it is not the violent rampage of a serial killer, it must be a vendetta. Officer Zhang began screening suspects with potential motives by starting with the victims’ friends and family.
Officer Zhang Ling from the International Police Department had come to Aochong City specifically for this case to seek cooperation with the IOA, and he also met with Bai Chunian.
Officer Zhang had interrogated Bai Chunian when he was in prison. The fact that Bai Chunian had completely outmaneuvered his lie detector skills with mere rhetoric still rankled Officer Zhang, so naturally, he didn’t give him a warm welcome when they met, his square face remaining cold as ever.
Bai Chunian leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his lower abdomen, his legs crossed and stretched out. He replied calmly, “Since you’re not a terrorist, there’s nothing our Special Operations Search Division can do to help. Officer Zhang, why don’t you try your luck at the Alliance Police Station?”
Officer Zhang raised his small, piercing eyes to scrutinize Bai Chunian, trying to read something from his body language and gaze. But Bai Chunian was just as skilled at interrogation; he wouldn’t reveal any expression that might incriminate him.
When he arrived, he had already contacted the Alliance Police Department, but they didn’t seem very eager to investigate. It appeared that, under some kind of pressure from higher-ups, everyone had simultaneously lost interest in the case. Now, the Special Operations Unit’s Search Division and the Alliance Police Department were simply passing the buck back and forth.
As for the International Prison, it was even less likely that they would do anything. Ever since former Warden Li Wang resigned in disgrace, the new warden—pushed into the position by Yan Yi and PBB Commander Gu Wei—had left the International Prison in a state of utter disarray following the reshuffle. By the time of the next international conference, it was likely that whatever proposal Yan Yi put forward would receive overwhelming support.
And all of this seems to be proceeding in an orderly fashion under Yan Yi’s guidance. When the IOA was first established, no one could have anticipated that a seemingly mild-mannered and quiet Omega president would harbor such ambition.
The unexpected deaths of several former researchers, coupled with the human experimentation scandal at Berner Pharmaceuticals—which the media exposed without warning just a few days ago—have created a storm of undercurrents. While the institute appears calm on the surface, its stock prices reveal that it has been significantly impacted. The fact that it has managed to maintain stable external partnerships to this day is entirely due to Hummingbird Aileen’s rock-solid management skills.
The headquarters office of Institute 109.
The interior design of the entire institute is fairly uniform, featuring mostly high-tech, white, curved designs. Elaine’s office follows the same minimalist style.
A fair-skinned, slender young man emerged from the break room, delivering a freshly brewed cup of coffee to the red-haired female Alpha seated behind the desk. He said mechanically, “Here you go.”
As always, Aileen’s tastes were monotonous; aside from the experimental subjects she designed, even her personal assistant had been engineered to possess the appearance of a gaunt, pale-skinned young man.
Eileen leaned back in her ergonomic chair, wearing a suit jacket over a white shirt with the collar casually open. A slightly plastic-looking teardrop-shaped pendant hung from a platinum chain around her neck. It was a Valentine’s Day gift she’d received during her student days; though she’d changed the chain several times since, she’d never replaced the cheap pendant.
Age had left no wrinkles on his face; instead, it had added a touch of mature charm, allowing a sharp, striking beauty to radiate from his very core. However, the flood of scandals surrounding Institute 109 that had emerged in recent days had left him somewhat weary, and he looked considerably haggard.
A soft light suddenly illuminated the sleek office desk, casting a three-dimensional projection of the computer screen onto the surface. The AI assistant asked in a gentle voice, “Officer Zhang Ling has sent an encrypted email. Would you like to read it now?”
The AI’s voice was modeled after a male Omega in his thirties—a preference that didn’t quite align with Aileen’s tastes.
“Read it to me.” Aileen brought her mug to the desk and rested her elbows on the surface.
The AI read: “The deaths of six former researchers at the breeding facility are suspected to have been secretly orchestrated by the IOA Chairman.”
Elaine gently wiped the lipstick smudge off the mug and snorted. “Yan Yi wouldn’t be this impulsive… Never mind. First, notify the management at the Red Fox City Cultivation Base. Put the facility on lockdown immediately, step up security checks, and don’t let any suspicious individuals in.”
“Deng, have you finished renewing all the expired contracts?”
Upon hearing the question, the AI replied quickly: “Our reputation has been damaged. Many countries have canceled their contracts for experimental subjects and stated they won’t renew them, while others are waiting to see what happens. There’s been a minor issue with the supply of pharmaceutical raw materials; the Red Throat Bird organization can no longer fulfill our orders. The core members of that organization have all been assassinated or taken away by the puppet master Nix.”
“Useless.” Aileen rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sort out the raw materials for the potions first.”
“Do you have a preferred partner in mind?”
“The Lingti Clan.”
——
These past few days, Bi Lanxing had remained at the IOA instead of returning to the military base. Bai Chunian had dumped a pile of menial tasks on him, expecting him to figure them out on his own. Bai Chunian’s style as an instructor was always to start things but never follow through—he’d hand off tasks and then wash his hands of them. Whether you could get the job done was entirely up to you, and if you didn’t finish, you’d still get an earful from him.
Xiao Xun was still recovering in the hospital and couldn’t help him.
A few days ago, Bai Chunian hadn’t been at the Alliance at all; he’d been nowhere to be found. Today, he’d stayed in the office for a while—a rare occurrence—but as soon as he returned, he slumped into his chair and dozed off.
Bi Lanxing sat beside him, silently typing up a report, glancing at him from time to time. He couldn’t help but feel that Brother Chu had looked much more haggard these past few days. The chairman hadn’t assigned any specific tasks, so what exactly had Brother Chu been busy with lately?
Bai Chunian’s uniform jacket, draped over him, slipped to the floor. Bi Lanxing picked it up, shook it out, and draped it back over Bai Chunian.
Unexpectedly, before he could even touch him, Bai Chunian suddenly opened his eyes and grabbed Bi Lanxing by the throat. Bi Lanxing clearly saw the fleeting glint of ferocity in Bai Chunian’s eyes and froze.
Bai Chunian also paused for a moment, then released his grip. With a faint smile, he pointed his left index finger at Bi Lanxing’s nose as if firing a gun: “Piu. Just testing your reaction time. You failed. If this were a real-life theft mission, you’d be dead.”
But Bi Lanxing didn’t breathe a sigh of relief. He could tell that Bai Chunian’s gaze just now had been clearly vicious, laced with murderous intent. After years of training, Bi Lanxing had developed that instinct.
“Brother Chu,” Bi Lanxing handed him the uniform jacket that had fallen to the ground, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Write the report.” Bai Chunian stretched lazily. “Finally, someone to handle this paperwork for me.”
“Anything else?” Bi Lanxing looked at him. “Danger doesn’t matter—I won’t hold you back.”
Bai Chunian chuckled, leaning on the desk with his chin in his hand as he looked at him. “If I took you along to do something bad, would you go?”
“I’d go.” Bi Lanxing blurted out, then suddenly felt it was inappropriate and asked hesitantly, “Wait, how bad could it be?”
Bai Chunian slung his arm over Bi Lanxing’s shoulder. “I was just messing with you—you actually believed me? Hurry up and finish that report so we can clock out. Once this round of work is mostly done, you can head back to the military base to continue your exchange training. That way, the little bunny won’t be calling me all day long, chattering away.”
Of course, Bai Chunian wouldn’t lead them into anything out of line. But Bi Lanxing’s thoughtless “Let’s go” felt like a different kind of comfort, causing Bai Chunian’s furrowed brow to smooth out once more as he happily clocked out and headed back to the apartment.
Lately, the frequency of their OBE sessions had increased significantly, and La Bo was starting to feel the strain; every night, he slept more soundly than usual. Bai Chunian was also becoming increasingly clingy, seeking him out with growing abandon. Eventually, La Bo began crawling out from under the covers as if trying to escape, only to be pulled back by a pitiful, pleading Randi, who would coax him into continuing.
This was actually something La Bo enjoyed, so he didn’t think much of it. However, one day while calling Bai Chunian during work hours, La Bo happened to discover that he wasn’t at the IOA Alliance Building but was outside, and he could faintly hear the sound of a bell ringing.
Thinking back, it seemed there was only one clock tower built near the Alliance Police Station.
Speaking of acquaintances at the Alliance Police Station, aside from some officers he often worked with, there was only Satan, who was being held in the detention center.
The fact that Xiao Bai had gone to see another omega behind his back made La Bo a little annoyed, but out of trust, he didn’t suspect him.
On top of that, Xiao Bai had recently been spacing out for no apparent reason, staring coldly at the wall calendar or clock, watching the hands move second by second, lost in thought for hours at a time. This was a common state for him when he was planning something; he would rehearse the details of the operation over and over in his mind, considering every possible contingency to ensure the operation remained completely under his control.
At first, La Bo simply assumed he was still grieving over the pearl. Whenever he’d zone out, La Bo would go over, hug him to release soothing pheromones, kiss his dry eyes, and gently rub his cheeks and hair.
Xiao Bai would respond warmly, as if only this could bring him a little comfort and peace. Only then would the Alpha’s nerves relax from their taut state, and he would cling softly to La Bo.
So it wasn’t until June 23rd that La Bo realized Bai Chunian often slipped out of the apartment quietly after three in the morning.
In the early hours of that day, before dawn had broken, La Bo suddenly felt his heart tremble. He jolted awake from a deep sleep to find the bed beside him empty.
Bai Chunian was gone.