Bai Chunian walked over to the second manager, Jason, rested his elbow on the table, and leaned back casually, waiting for him to shuffle the cards.
During this time, the lion’s ears hidden within Bai Chunian’s hair twitched slightly. He heard a faint click and, without giving anything away, swept his peripheral vision around the room, meeting the faint smile of Manager Leleni, who was seated in the fourth position.
Jason’s face turned ashen as he drew a card from the deck, flipped it over, and slammed it down on the table: the 8 of Spades.
Bai Chunian calmly slid his index finger along the top of the deck, pulling out a card and placing it face down on the table.
“I’m a little excited.” Bai Chunian gently lifted a corner of the card with his fingernail. Jason held his breath, staring intently at the card.
“Wait a minute.” Bai Chunian placed the card face down on the table again, rested his elbow on Jason’s shoulder, and leaned in to ask, “How about this? Let’s first see what the penalty is for losing.”
Jason had a fiery temperament, and Bai Chunian, knowing this, became even more unhurried.
Bai Chunian pulled a lighter from his pocket and set the 8 of Spades that Jason had drawn alight. The moment the flame touched the card, the pattern on the back vanished, revealing several lines of text.
“Hmm… This card offers two choices: one, shoot yourself in the head with a revolver; two, go open the bulletproof glass door of Experiment Zone A.”
Bai Chunian had divided the experimental zone into ten sections, labeled A through J. Currently, the researchers were all locked inside these ten zones. Those on the lowest and second levels were separated from the centipede test subjects outside by nothing more than a single door.
Cold sweat beaded on Jason’s forehead as Bai Chunian slowly revealed the card he had drawn: the Nine of Hearts.
Seeing the number on Bai Chunian’s card, Jason closed his eyes in resignation.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you have to make a choice.” Bai Chunian pushed the revolver toward Jason. “I think it’s better to fire a shot. After all, there’s no guarantee the gun will actually go off, but if you open that door, your colleagues will be devoured by the centipedes.”
Jason gripped the revolver Bai Chunian handed him tightly, his index finger resting on the trigger. He pointed the barrel at his own head, gritting his teeth in hesitation. His neck flushed red, and his thighs trembled uncontrollably.
Bai Chunian stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, waiting for him to pull the trigger.
Jason’s eyes suddenly flashed with malice. He swung the gun toward Bai Chunian and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
There was only the sound of an empty chamber; Bai Chunian remained unharmed.
Bai Chunian shrugged. “What a pity. If you’d aimed that shot at yourself, you’d be fine. Shooting me doesn’t count. Carry on, sir.”
Jason’s supervisor suddenly burst into maniacal laughter: “Hahahaha! This gun doesn’t fire bullets at all! You’ll never lose! Hahahaha! I won’t fall for your trick!”
He turned the pistol on himself and pulled the trigger with absolute confidence.
Bang! The gun fired.
The other nine researchers gathered around the table jumped in shock. When they opened their eyes again, Jason was still sitting at the table, but half his head had been blown off, and blood was splattered on the wall and the researchers sitting next to him.
They screamed, thrashing wildly in their chairs and howling in pain.
“Lan Bo once told me that people pay the price for pride and arrogance. I hope you don’t underestimate the integrity of us test subjects—we’re different.” Bai Chunian retrieved the revolver from the pool of blood, wiped the bloodstains off it with the hem of Director Jason’s coat, and chuckled lightly. “I told you, this is a fair game. But he was right about one thing.”
Bai Chunian fired a shot at the ceiling. The gunshot silenced everyone instantly, and the room fell deathly quiet.
“I will never lose.” Bai Chunian placed the gun back on the table and pushed the deck of cards toward the third manager, Jenny.
Jenny’s eyes and nose were red, and she was sobbing uncontrollably. Bai Chunian took out a pack of tissues and wiped away her tears and the moisture from her nose. “Stop crying. I only brought one pack of tissues, and I have to wipe nine people’s faces. You don’t seem like a clumsy person to me. Why did your hands slip while carrying a tray?”
In the footage Duan Yang had provided, it was she who had placed the pearl in the sterile dish and carried it away from Lan Bo. The video captured the scene vividly: Jenny hurriedly left the lab holding the sterile dish, but Lan Bo grasped her hand pleadingly. As she shook off his hand, the tray tilted, and the pearl slipped out and fell to the floor. Several researchers scrambled to re-sterilize the pearl. No one had ever imagined that a life was hidden within it. Bai Chunian was convinced that the pearl’s life had ended at that very moment, and no one could refute it.
Jenny drew the 7 of Diamonds, while Bai Chunian turned over the King of Clubs.
The moment she saw the cards, Jenny burst into tears and reached tremblingly for the revolver on the table.
Bai Chunian suddenly grabbed her hand: “Who said this was your punishment?”
He picked up a steel ball the size of a light bulb from the floor, placed it in front of Jenny, and spun it on his fingertip: “Swallow it… or break through the bulletproof glass door of Lab A.”
“You have ten seconds to decide,” Bai Chunian glanced at the digital clock on the wall. “If you can’t swallow it, I’ll help you. Ten, nine, eight…”
As the countdown reached zero, Bai Chunian’s mouth twitched. “Forcing it, is that it?” He picked up the heavy steel ball and pried open Jenny’s jaw.
“Open the door! I… I choose to open the door…” Jenny lay face-down on the table in agony, staring in terror as Bai Chunian placed the steel ball back on the desk.
“Is that so? There are quite a few people in Zone A.” Bai Chunian chuckled into the speaker’s microphone. “Friends in Zone A, Supervisor Jenny has decided to sacrifice you to save her own life. Don’t blame her—if you were sitting here, you’d make the same choice.”
Eris watched Bai Chunian’s deadly game unfold on the screen and couldn’t help but glance up at her own section. She was in Zone F, which wasn’t on the same floor as Zone A, but she could see what was happening on the floor below through the screen and the glass curtain wall.
The researchers dared not make a sound. Suddenly, they heard the beep of a door opening. Eris, clutching her gun, looked in the direction of the sound. The bulletproof glass door of Zone A slowly slid open. Inside, some researchers cowered in the corners, too afraid to move, while others took the risk of rushing out with fire extinguishers or whatever other improvised restraints they could find. The largest group, however, was scrambling over a vial of fluorescent purple serum.
“What are they doing?” Eris asked.
The Puppet Master replied, “It’s SH-blocking serum. Once injected, the test subjects won’t be able to sense them for half an hour. Since Zone A rarely encounters lethal test subjects, we aren’t equipped with lethal weapons against them—only some spare SH-blocking serum.”
Eris scratched his face. “But I can still see them. Is this the Emperor’s new serum?”
“This cloaking serum only works on test subjects in the incubation phase. Once they reach maturity, their senses no longer rely solely on smell and heat.”
A centipede specimen roaming between the experimental zones sensed the scent of food. It immediately trailed a trail of toxic fumes that corroded the floor tiles as it crawled swiftly toward the experimental zone where the bulletproof glass door had been opened. It bit down on the researcher running at the front, who instantly turned into a smoking mass of pus and blood, flowing into the centipede’s mouth.
Meanwhile, in Zone C—adjacent to Zone A—several researchers took advantage of the centipede specimen’s distraction to begin smashing the escape hatch in the glass door with fire axes. After a few heavy blows, the glass shattered, and the researchers inside poured out in a rush, sprinting toward the emergency exit.
Watching all this on the monitor, Bai Chunian propped his head up and lazily pressed a button on the control panel.
After the button was pressed, a cultivation chamber near Zone C began a countdown to open.
Overwhelmed by fear, the crowd blocked the emergency exit, smashing the door with fire axes. As the twenty-second countdown rapidly ticked away, the containment chamber housing experimental subject No. 2316, “Jack the Ripper,” announced its opening.
Subject 2316 is a mantis-type experimental subject. The first digit, 2, denotes insectoid glands; the middle digit, 3, indicates a rare dual-bladed blade-like morph; and the last two digits, 16, signify combat-type abilities.
The mantis-type experimental subject, with both hands resembling the double blades of a mantis, lunged at the researchers gathered at the emergency exit.
Test subjects with codenames were generally outstanding specimens whose files had been submitted to and approved by the 109 Research Institute headquarters. Once fully developed, they were sent to headquarters for researchers to select, so his strength was beyond question.
A decryption chip was attached to the control panel in Bai Chunian’s hand; upon closer inspection, a black worm pattern was engraved on the chip. Although the breeding facility was merely a subsidiary of Institute 109, its security system remained impenetrable; at this moment, the assistance of the Crawler and Duan Yang proved particularly crucial.
Supervisor Jenny lay face-down on the desk, sobbing uncontrollably. Bai Chunian, satisfied, stepped away from the control console and approached the fourth supervisor, Lelani.
He shuffled the cards and pushed them toward Lelani. Lelani shot him a cold glance, then suddenly flipped his hand to clamp down on Bai Chunian’s wrist as he handed over the cards. Hidden in his palm was a small glass needle he’d removed from the suppressor, containing a vial of blue infection serum.
The situation turned in the blink of an eye. The tall, burly Manager Lelani forcefully pressed the vial of infection agent into Bai Chunian’s wrist.
The infection agent could kill a test subject within ten minutes.
The Blue Virus, mixed with hydrogen cyanide, instantly entered Bai Chunian’s bloodstream. The blue substance spread through his veins. Bai Chunian’s smile froze on his face; his eyes widened in shock as he stared at Lelani, then he leaned against the table and slowly collapsed.
“Hmph, just a mere experimental product, and you dare to think you can replace humanity?” Supervisor Lelani struggled with all his might to break free from the handcuffs restraining his hands to the table. He snatched the revolver from the desk, chambered a round, and fired a shot at Bai Chunian’s neck.
Blood spattered everywhere. Director Lelani rushed to the control console, attempting to activate the suppressors on the backs of the necks of the two released test subjects, but the console wouldn’t respond—he simply couldn’t operate it. He tried to call for help from headquarters, but all communication between the breeding facility and the outside world had been cut off; the signal wouldn’t go through.
Supervisor Lelani forced himself to stay calm. Glancing at his colleagues frantically pleading for help, he realized he had no key and couldn’t unlock their handcuffs. With no other choice, he took off toward the door.
But the moment his fingers touched the doorknob, he suddenly felt a sharp needle prick his fingertip. He reflexively pulled his hand back; his fingertip was pierced and bleeding, and the wound was smeared with traces of the blue chemical.
Symptoms of hydrogen cyanide poisoning quickly manifested in Manager Lelani. Gripping his throat in agony, he leaned against the door and knelt down inch by inch.
He struggled to breathe, yet a voice, like a hallucination, laughed softly in his ear.
Bai Chunian had crouched beside him at some point, fiddling with the bullet he’d extracted from the manager’s neck. The wound on his neck slowly healed, and the blue toxin spreading from his wrist gradually faded until it vanished.
It was as if he had been purified. Though the purification was much slower than Lan Bo’s.
“I never intended to replace anyone. I’m here to teach you how to be human,” Bai Chunian said, lowering his head to close the bulging eyes of Supervisor Lelani. The tips of his snow-white hair brushed against the man’s stiff face. “Be more careful in your next life.”
Eris witnessed the entire scene on the screen. The puppeteer whispered, “That’s enough. Find a chance to leave.”
In a casual glance back, Eris’s gaze met Bai Chunian’s on the screen once again.
“…Nix…?” Eris murmured.
“Hm?”
“I think he… saw me.”